


The Blacks, The Greens and The Reds

by Loke_Lyon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Technology, dance of dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 242
Words: 544,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loke_Lyon/pseuds/Loke_Lyon
Summary: Totally self-indulgent Rhaenyra Self-Insert, written solely because I need to start writing again instead of planning a story to death. Cross posted on AH.





	1. The Prologue

Saltpeter, Charcoal and Sulfur. The three ingredients in one would need in order to make black powder. 

Saltpeter had been acquired from a very awkward conversation with Harwin Strong. My attempts to distract him from why I needed all the bat poo I could remove from Harrenhal had, for an entire week, had him under the impression we were lovers and started five brand new rumours at court that I’m sure made Alicent all tingly.

Sulfur had been the next on my list and had left me with a bit of a dilemma. The easiest way to get your hands on Sulfur in Westeros was to buy it from the Dornish. The Hellholt was lousy with the stuff and the Ullers were always happy for the extra income from it’s sale. Unfortunately, that is the easiest method for anyone who isn’t a Targaryen. Another way is getting it out of Pyrite which meant dealing with the Lannisters. Lannisters or the Dornish, I’m hard pressed to say who are the more traitorous. In the end I gave in and asked Ser Jofffrey to get it for me. He didn’t ask why I needed it and I didn’t ask how he got it.

Charcoal is the easiest. Charcoal burners litter Westeros and it was simple matter of raiding Driftmark for a small supply. Grind all three up, properly measure the ingredients, mix carefully but well and you have yourself the modest little powder that’s going to ensure a certain little sulky brat never lays so much of a finger on the throne that’s rightfully yours.

Not that I’m taking it personally of course.

An old pain lanced through my fingers as prepared to transfer the powder to it’s new home. I stopped the flex the cramping from them, it wouldn’t do to slip at this juncture. Very carefully, I scooped my black powder into the metal casing and tightened the cap. Whilst Dragonstone certainly lives up to it’s name, I’d rather not blow up the castle I’ve only been in possession of for six months. Alicent would love that. 

Not that Dragonstone couldn’t do with a bit of exploding. Dragonstone the castle that is. The island itself wasn’t a problem. It’s farmland was rich and productive, the weather was pleasant and the views at times could be breathtaking. When not in my lab creating the recipe for Alicent’s downfall, I’ve taken to exploring it fully.

The problem is whoever built Dragonstone the castle apparently didn’t share my views on the island. Dragonstone itself had been built in the shadow of the Dragonmont, the towering active volcano that dominated the island. This had several knock-on effects. First it meant that the scenic views, rolling farmlands and gorgeous weather were on the other side of the damnable thing and to make things worse the shadow from the mountain cast the castle proper, and the small town surrounding it, into a permanent gloom. They’d then topped their monument to poorly thought out architecture in stone dragons. Huge stone dragons, small stone dragons, wall mounted stone dragons, statues of dragons… All made from the same fused black rock I had come to learn was indicative of Valyrian buildings.

As if that wasn’t enough, later architects had carved dragons into the walls, the floors, railings and banisters. No wonder Stannis had gone mad living here and if he was actually Azor Ahai and did have the power to wake dragons from stone then he was going to be a one man second coming of the bloody freehold.

Two guards in Targaryen livery fell into step behind me as a left the lab with my creation tucked under my arm. One of the many stewards of Dragonstone would ensure the rooms were cleaned and locked. Not that any totally-not-Alicent’s-spies would be able to figure out what I was doing before it was too late. Still, this is Westeros and it never hurts to be pro-active about you enemies.

I realised I was scowling when a maid yelped and leapt out of my way. I would have to check that. I rearranged my face into what I hoped was polite smile and made my way to the small courtyard I’d had cleared for testing. My two guards took up positions out of the way. Happily, my instructions had been heeded and a brazier was merrily burning away. It was heading towards late afternoon and I probably shouldn’t be testing things so close to the evening meal. Especially since Lord Corlys was lurking around. That man was a menace.

I poured a modest amount of powder onto the flagstone. Before withdrawing and retrieved a wooden splint. I had to be extra careful here. All my work would be for nothing if I set myself alight. Gently I lowered the splint into the powder before stepping even further back.

Black powder will ignite if you look at It wrong. In the open, like mine, it should burn. Confined however, it produces an explosion which is what makes it useful for flinging bits of metal about at high speed.

At least that was what it was supposed to do.

I could only watch with a sinking sort of horror as the wooden splint sputtered and died amongst the completely unignited and very much not on fire powder. From the corner, I heard my guards move to intercept someone. I stared at the unburnt spot and tried to set my emotions in order.

Frustration: Check  
Something weirdly close to grief: Check  
A sinking feeling that I have to face the Dance of Dragons without my easy mode solution of firearms: Also check.

Someone up there is laughing at me, I just know it.

“Rhaenyra!”

I jumped as a hand collided with my shoulder, pulling from my one woman self-pity party. It was Laenor. Another set of unfortunate feelings rose up inside me and I resisted the urge to clock him for taking my pity party and switching it to a ‘oh no original Rhaenyra is definitely still here somewhere’ existential horror.

“What?” I bit out. I don’t even know my own age anymore but I’m damn sure I’m too young to be dealing with the question of whether I’m keeping someone prisoner inside their own body or the knowledge that a continent spanning super war is on it’s way because Alicent is raging b- bad person.

“My Lord Father has requested your presence for a pre-dinner meeting.”

He doesn’t even look the slightest bit apologetic for the delivery of bad news. I cast another glance at the black powder with the vain hope that maybe it will set alight and the first time was somehow a fluke. It remains inert and I sigh heavily before I can stop myself.

“Did your experiment not go to plan?” asked Laenor, peering around me. 

I gestured to the black powder again with another sigh and he gives me a sympathetic look.

“Sorry it didn’t work out. Perhaps this is a sign to let go of all the alchemy stuff.” 

He was trying to sound conciliatory. He may be a gay man in the heart of grimderp Westeros but beyond matters of inheritance and love, he was remarkably closed minded. I fixed him with what I hoped was an intimidating glare. He raised his hands in mock surrender before pushing some of his long silver hair from his face. The Rhaenyra in me was thrilled. He was a beautiful man, tall with delicate features and long silver hair. His eyes were the typical Valyrian violet and he held himself in a particularly regal manner. I had, thankfully, failed to somehow butterfly away Rhaenyra’s beauty. Trust me, she had well deserved her title of ‘Realm’s Delight’. I lifetime of lessons in deportment had meant I could match Laenor’s regal grace with my own. On the surface, we were a striking couple.

The current power couple of Westeros.

“I’m just saying, it’s beginning to be spoken about at court,” he continued. I frowned. He didn’t have to say who was talking about it. It was Alicent, it was always Alicent. My Father would only intervene if anything became blatant and even then he was unlikely to do anything that would actually protect me. I had seen it all play out in the past and in all likeliness, I would see it play out again. I flexed my fingers and they throbbed again in reminder.

“Perhaps it is time for you to find someone-”

I cut him off with a wave. I knew how that had gone for the original Rhaenyra. Three obvious bastards had tanked her support harder than anything Alicent could have ever done. Something I know would have tickled orginal Alicent pink if this Alicent was anything to go by.

“I have already told you-” Laenor cut me of this time, his face twisted in unhappiness.

“I can not. I have already explained. I can not.” I understood and sympathised to a degree. He was a gay man and no amount of closing his eyes and thing of Driftmark was going to change that. That didn’t change the fact that bearing anyone else’s children was a risk I could not take.

“I’m not about to have children now anyway, Laenor. It’s too early. Childbirth killed both my mother and her mother too. We have a few years to find a solution.”

He didn’t look convinced. That was probably Lord Corlys’ doing. No doubt he was hammering the need for a quick heir into his son’s head. In canon, Rhaenyra had already been pregnant with Jacaerys by this point. I suppose the lack of heir was spooking my so called ‘greatest supporter’.

“I fear that will not placate the Factions at court,” replied Laenor.

On that last miserable note, I guided him back out of the courtyard, leaving orders for the stewards to clear the mess and to be careful with the powder.


	2. Opening Moves -  Chapter 1

Laenor left me at the entrance to my rooms to go and prepare himself. A gaggle of maids soon surrounded me and I let myself relax under their ministrations. My hair was unbound and brushed, the dirt I hadn’t notice wiped away with a wash cloth and then the dresses were brought forward.

In a previous life, I’d hated dresses. I’d hated wearing them, hated trying to move in them and especially hated how no matter the fabric they pulled and itched. The Rhaenyra in me loved dresses, loved being attended to, adored the idea of court fashion. 

I’d been startled to say the least when I’d realised I actually looked forward to dress fittings. Even more so when my new fashion conscious eye could pick out courtly attire and what it meant.

“Nothing to ostentatious tonight, Genna.” The maid in question curtsied and indicated for a black dress embroidered with red dragons. Another maid brought forth a mantle of red that evoked the style common to the Vale. Too tired to assess whether that would offend my dear Goodfather or not, I gave my assent.

The whole affair took about an hour. Outside of the window, the sun was beginning to set. I stopped to watch it. I wasn’t in any particular hurry and I beyond tired of dealing with Corlys. I needed a few moments just to myself. What would I do if I couldn’t get the Black Powder to work?

After my brief respite, I made my way to the private dining rooms. Laenor was not present yet but Lord Corlys and his wife were. I bit back a groan and hoped it hadn’t shown on my face. Corlys greeted me with his usual taciturn nod whilst his wife pulled me into a hug. I returned it happily. For all that I disliked Corlys, I loved Rhaenys.

“You look well! Any chance of good news?” she asked, with a friendly nudge as we sat down. Sometimes I wondered what the hell went on in their heads, that they could miss Laenor’s planet sized see-through closet. At the mention of heirs though, I became the subject of the Lord of Driftmark’s laser-like focus.

I took a sip of wine before answering.

“Not yet Lady Rhaenys but I pray to the Mother that I will be blessed soon.” When in doubt, invoke religion. It’s amazing how many Westerosi nobles dislike talking about religion.

“As do I,” echoed Laenor as he finally entered. He seated himself next to me after depositing a quick kiss on his Mother’s temple.

“Praying won’t help,” said Corlys, breaking his silence at last. Laenor tensed up, as did Rhaenys. 

“Father-”

“No, Laenor. You have been married for nearly half a year now. You think the servants do not speak? They do and the realm is eager to listen. And what things they speak of? A Lord that has never visited his Lady’s bed chambers, A Princess who is happier to play with queer dusts and strange powders like some sort of alchemist!”

My fingers gave a throb of agony as my hand tightened around the goblet. Around us, the Stewards were doing their best to seem as unobtrusive as possible. How many were Alicent’s? How much could I say in their presence?

“Corlys,” hissed Rhaenys, her tone promising retribution. The Lord set his jaw, meeting his wife’s eyes and then his son’s. Both lost the ensuing staring match.

He turned his eyes on me. He was challenging me, although what he hoped to achieve was beyond me.

Our staring match was interrupted by the arrival of the meal itself. His eyes flickered for a moment, resting on the hand that held my wine before looking away entirely. I realised that my hand was still clenched tightly around the goblet, so much so that my fingers had turned white.

I couldn’t tell who had won that match of wills. Instead of agonising over it, I offered Laenor a smile before helping myself. Dinner tonight was beef pie accompanied by a multitude of green vegetables. Delicious but my mind was whirring with other thoughts.

Why did he have to pick tonight of all nights? After today’s failure… Was that why he had picked it? No. He had sent Laenor before the Power had failed to ignite. Perhaps he knew I had begun testing today and wished to gauge my work before deciding to disapprove?

That sounded more in line with what I knew about the Sea Snake.

After the last of his famous voyages he’d come back to Westeros and assumed the title of Lord of the Tides. His treasures had made his House wealthy and Lord Corlys had proved himself as good a ruler as he had a sailor. He’d invested, begun construction on High Tide and married a Targaryen Princess.

At the time, it had been assumed by many that Lady Rhaenys would inherit the Throne and Lord Corlys had made it apparent to all who would listen that he was ready to fight her battles. The fact that he had proceeded to do so was something of a problem.

None of the books I had read had ever gone into detail about it but it seems the conflict between Aemon’s line and Baelon’s line had begun far earlier than the Grand Council of 101AC. As a youth, Rhaenys had climbed atop Meleys soon after Princess Alyssa’s death. To anyone unfamiliar with the customs of the Valyrian Freehold, this did not appear to be a problem.

However, I had soon been told otherwise. A dragon was personal thing, when a family member died custom dictated that those close to the deceased should have first refusal on the dragon. The fact that Rhaenys had so blatantly ignored this had enraged Prince Baelon as well as Prince Daemon. It had taken some not inconsiderable diplomacy from Prince Aemon to ensure it did not become an Incident.

But damage had been done. When Prince Aemon died on Tarth, Daemon claimed Caraxes in revenge. I think that Rhaenys wouldn’t have cared had she not learnt soon after that Jaehaerys had stripped Dragonstone and the Title of Heir from her. Instead, the loss of Caraxes for her own daughter, the just born Laena, had become symbolic of her loss no matter how unreasonable it was to expect a babe to claim a dragon.

So much so that both Corlys and Rhaenys were eager to look the other way when the seven year old Laena claimed Vhagar. When her claiming of the mighty beast had come to light, Viserys had to physically restrain an enraged Daemon. The fact that the target of his ire was seven year old girl, one he was happy to threaten violence upon did not go down well with the Court. Or Jaehaerys. The Old King had him confined to his rooms for a week.

Corlys hadn’t taken the incident well regardless of whether Daemon had been punished or not. He and Daemon had nearly started a civil war during the Great Council and it took years for matters to thaw between them. Even then it had been a chance thing. An icily correct visit to court and an unplanned drunken night had given birth the Conquest of the Stepstones. I was given to understand the early years of the Conquest had been fraught with arguments and rivalry even then. They’d managed to reconcile however. 

For all that Corlys blamed neither brother for the wrong done to his wife, there was still an empty chair on Viserys’ small council. Alicent was desperate to fill it with a Redwyne but Viserys refused, telling anyone who asked that the title of Master of Ships belonged to Corlys and would be waiting for him when Corlys came to claim it.

That Corlys had sworn he would not take the title until his wife and children’s rights were restored, that he would not aid a usurper, seemed not to bother Viserys overly much.

I took a drink of wine and used it to covertly scan the Lord of the Tides. He was in his early sixties but was still as healthy and as active of a man half his age. His skin was weathered by the sea, something he was eager to show off as he eschewed any particular fashion, opting for the garb of sailor. Admittedly, the fabrics used were silk and satin. He wasn’t as handsome as his son, his features were thicker than the normal aquiline Valyrian look but I’d imagine he still many a maiden blushing.

He certainly had the Rhaenyra in me blushing. The dinner proceeded in an awkward silence, with no one quite willing to break it. Laenor opened his mouth a couple of times but seems to back down before the words made their way out.

I forced myself to focus. That Corlys was trying to assert authority over me was obvious. The fact that he had all but usurped the castle from me was annoying. I’d been so focused on the powder… I pulled my thoughts away. This needed to be about Corlys.

Oh, of course. He can’t be seen involving himself to much in the goings on of the court. He publicly declared his withdrawal from it several times. He’s backed himself into a corner with hasty declarations made years ago that his own pride won’t allow him to forswear. Controlling a future Queen is fine and dandy but I think what he really wants is the Black faction.

I resist the urge to groan at that. The Black faction. The one I’d been neglecting in my haste to develop the Black Powder. I’d reasoned it all away in my head that I wouldn’t need the Lords of Westeros with dragons, guns and canons.

I’d messed it up somehow. I was certain I had the mixture right though. Even if I wasn’t exact there still should have been some reaction, something I could use to refine it further. 

Laenor cleared his throat. The rooms attention swung towards him.

“Out of curiosity, what was your experiment today supposed to do?” he asked. I took a sip of wine to give myself time to think. In the corner, Rhaenys leant forward slightly, evidently eager for anything that would alleviate the oppressive atmosphere that had sprung up.

“It was supposed to burn or explode.” I replied, seeing no way out. Laenor’s eyebrows drew together.

“Explode. Forgive me, Rhaenyra, but I do not see the advantage?” Laenor’s face was scrunched up in confusion. Damn him, even comically confused he was beautiful.

“Ah. Well… I had hoped to use it to create new artillery.” I managed lamely. At that, Corlys put his goblet down and leant forward.

“How would this have worked?” He asked. I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely interested or not. Hopefully, he was. For all that he was a curmudgeon, his support would be priceless. His current focus was the Stepstones. If I was going to have to play the political game after all, the earlier I could use him as an active Black, the better.

“Simply? A long metal tube with lead shot. The Black powder explodes and launches the shot out of the tube at high speed.” I explained. I was not going to tell him that early canons had a bad habit of exploding the people using them at the same time.

“But the powder doesn’t work.” There was reprimand in his tone. I kept the glare from my face barely. I’d walked right into a trap in my haste to trap him.

“I must have done something wrong. I can fix i-”

“How would this new artillery even help your cause? You ride a dragon, your Goodmother rides a dragon and your husband rides a dragon. I would suggest you leave the art of explosions to the Alchemists Guild.”

Realisation hit me like a punch to the face. I barely heard Rhaenys’ tart response.

The Alchemists Guild. I was an idiot. By the time of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon they were a sad shadow of their former glory but right now? Right now they were at the height of their power. Dragons weren’t extinct and their knowledge of magic and science could rival that of a Citadel trained Maester.

I took a long gulp of wine to hide my grin. If anyone could help me perfect the Black Powder it would be the Alchemists. Oh, and what a coincidence, I had the perfect excuse to show up on Viserys’ doorstep. Thanks Alicent!

“Perhaps a change of subject is in order,” I said, forestalling the brewing argument between the Queen Who Never Was and the Sea Snake. “I have actually been wondering if it might be worth travelling to King’s Landing. After all, I have a new brother now and I’d be a poor sister if I didn’t at least go and see him.”

“I wasn’t aware you were fond of your brothers?” said Rhaenys. She had a point. The last male relative I’d had any fondness for had been Prince Baelon. If one did not count Laenor, he was the only male relative I had ever had any fondness for.

“Brother or no, you’re better of staying away from that pit.” Corlys growled. His look of disapproval was back. I watched as he speared a vegetable with uncalled for violence.

“If scurrilous rumours are circulating in the capital perhaps it’s best to go there and make a show of it.” Laenor cut in. Corlys frowned as his earlier argument was flung back at him with an uncharacteristic show of backbone from his son.

“It wouldn’t hurt to touch base with my supporters either.” I added. I knew I’d been correct about his motives when Corlys reacted like a shark that had scented blood in the water. He drummed his fingers on the table before nodding.

“It seems appropriate,” he admitted. “As much as they should come to you.”

“Good luck with that, dear husband. The lords of Westeros are prickly bunch. They don’t like being summoned like common servants.” chuckled Rhaenys. As the atmosphere became less tense she’d begun relaxing. Corlys merely snorted in response.

Chilled fruit was served soon after.

“Regardless of your plans, it seems I can not stay here for much longer. That is why I requested this meal tonight. I need to return to the Stepstones and I’ve tarried here for as long as possible.” 

In response to Corlys’ statement, Rhaenys sighed and looked harried. Laenor leant forth and, surprisingly, laid a gentle hand over mine.

“Is there news regarding Prince Daemon?” he asked. I tensed and Laenor’s hand tightened about mine. The fingers of my right hand ached. I was glad Corlys had waited until the main meal was over with as at the mention of my uncle, my appetite fled. Rhaenys shot me a pained look.

“It seems the pirates once thought routed have gathered under a new banner. They will launch an attack on Bloodstone before the year is out.” Corlys explained.

“The Triarchy?” asked Laenor. I wasn’t paying attention though. I could not deal with thoughts of him to2night. Not after the failure of the powder and Corlys’ antics.

“I shall retire.” I announced, rising to my feet. If Corlys was surprised by this, he did not show it. Instead, he nodded his permission.

The Rhaenyra in me wanted to slap him. This was my castle, not his. I could not, of course. I would wait until he was gone and route out the men and women he had bought. Ser Joffrey was uncommonly good at finding and locating those with lose tongues and it would be a nice distraction from his romantic troubles. Killing them was too much but perhaps a one-way ride to Driftmark with a notice that Corlys had forgotten some of his men and women. 

“Laenor, why don’t you accompany your wife tonight.”

For all that it was put forward as a suggestion, it was a command. One Laenor leapt to obey, his earlier show of backbone forgotten in haste to be out from underneath the all-knowing eye of his Father. I pictured his face as he read the message informing him that I had severed his power base in Dragonstone without death or violence before offering Laenor a comforting smile.

Evidently a long night’s sleep and time to think up a plan were not on the cards today then.


	3. Opening Moves - Chapter 2

We didn’t speak as we made our way back to my rooms. I wanted to point out that Lord Corlys had gone so far beyond propriety tonight that he was possibly approaching politeness from the other side but to do so before Joffrey’s spring cleaning would be stupid. Corlys wouldn’t take it personally but he’d absolutely use it against me.

I guided Laenor inside my rooms and dismissed the maids and servants with a final request for a pitcher of wine. My lord husband was tense, as if he were made of glass. I directed him to a chair and took a seat opposite him. We did not speak until the steward delivered the pitcher and two goblets. Even then we both had made our way through our first goblet before I started, having spent the silence searching for the right approach.

“I do believe your Lord Father was five minutes away from suggesting he attend to the matter of an heir personally as well,” My voice wasn’t quite the dry, scathing tone I was going for but it worked to startle Laenor from his funk. He gave a sharp, short laugh.

“Mother would feed him to Meleys,” I could see that. Lady Rhaenys had a fierce temper and according to Laena and Laenor, many a maid had been dismissed from their roles at High Tide.

“We can not keep on like this Laenor,” I told him in the silence after. The man nodded solemnly.

“I will stick by my plan to wait for an heir but you must provide it.”

He sighed heavily and poured himself more wine before throwing back nearly half the goblet. I felt sorry for him, I truly did. He’d found his true love and lost him all in one year. Ser Joffrey may not have died when Criston Cole struck him down but what was left was a pale shadow compared to the man before. Then, whilst dealing with that loss, he’d had to navigate married life with increased duties on Driftmark.

“I do not know how but I will do my best. Do the Alchemists not know of some potion?” His voice was strangely hopeful. I frowned as I thought. Hadn’t Melisandre said that she had charms that could interest a man? Or was I just making that up.

“I’m not sure. I intend to visit them discreetly whilst we are in King’s Landing but I think we must discuss what comes after,” He placed his goblet down and leant forward.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Today has been something of a wake up call. If the Black Powder doesn’t work then I have no back-up plan to ensure my ascent to the throne.” Laenor nodded in response. I resisted the urge to sigh. He was a clever man but totally under father’s thumb. If I was going to pull him from Corlys’ orbit and into mine I needed to involve him.

“What do you think is the best course of action?” I asked and he seemed surprised I had. He seemed to think it over for some time, wine forgotten. Hints of the mind Corlys wanted in his son but was forever crushing with his own oversized ego poking through I supposed.

“We should start with the Crownlands.” He began slowly. At my questioning look, he elaborated. “Whoever controls the Crownlands controls King’s Landing. If war does break out, we will need King’s Landing if we wish to have any chance of winning. Do you know what Lords we can rely on?”

I thought back to the original timeline. Most of Rhaenyra’s support had come from the northern regions whilst Aegon’s had been mostly southern. That was proving true in my case as well. The fledgling Black cause was mostly made up of the Crownland houses sworn to Dragonstone and Vale lords.

“My cousin will likely side with me,” I pointed out.

“Lady Jeyne has only recently obtained her majority and is already embroiled in a succession dispute herself. There’s also the chance that raids by the mountain clans could pull their armies away at a critical time.” Damn him, he was right. Jeyne had the support of the majority of the Vale lords but there were a few that either opposed her outright or did not care to offer any support.

“Perhaps an offer of support. A letter to my cousin to assure her that I will ensure her rights are respected should armed conflict break out.” Laenor nodded in agreement.

“I can try and obtain permission from Father to send overly ambitious male relatives to the Stepstones? It would give Lady Jeyne an excuse to cut them off from their support bases in the Vale. There’s still the matter of the Mountain Clansman though.”

The Mountain Clansman of the Vale were the biggest problem for a stronger Vale. Dealing with them would not be easy. They were First Men who believed that the Vale was rightfully their’s and viewed all Andals as trespassers. The problem with that line of thought was that by now, the Andals had been here for thousands of years. You couldn’t just ship them off back to Andalos. 

For most of the time, the Clansmen were willing to sit in their hidden villages and attack only the remotest of locations. When Autumn came however, they would swarm down from the mountains into the Vale of Arryn proper and carry out mass raiding for food and women. Jeyne’s father and brother had died whilst attempting to mount a response to the Autumn raiding. A story every House in the Vale could relate too.

They refused all diplomacy, they killed people, drove the rest from their homes, stole women and the aftermaths of their attacks often saw even more people dying due to lack of food and adequate shelter. Although it revolted me, they would have to be eliminated. I said as much to Laenor, who merely shook his head.

“The Arryn’s have been saying that for centuries. Although, I suppose they’ve never had a dragon before,” he mused. Suddenly, I wish we’d had this meeting around the Painted Table. It would have been much cooler.

“So we cultivate allies in the Crownlands and the Vale as our first step. Give ourselves a core of loyal lords and use the strengthened Black faction to pull in more from other regions,” I concluded. It would work as a solid opening move, politically.

Although, even if Black Powder was behaving strange, other things might not be. What was the first thing everyone did in the stories? Seed drill. There were other areas that could be uplifted, not just military technology. 

“What about glass houses?” I asked.

“Glass houses? I admit such things would be useful for luring Northern lords to our side,” his voice clearly laying out that he thought the Northern Lords would be about as useful as a chocolate teapot “But they are too expensive. To buy and for the Northern Lords to maintain.”

“Not if we can make it ourselves.” Westeros was fully capable of making glass. The issue is that it was glass of a truly awful quality. Most glass was bought and shipped from Myr, which drove the prices to truly eye watering heights.

“You believe your Alchemy could give us the ability to make glass?” he asked, doubtfully. I wasn’t surprised, Myr kept the glass making secrets close to their chest. Slaves were bought as children and raised into the profession, those of them that tried to run away were given horrific punishment and those that stayed and were obedient were given a far better life than even some of the free citizens of Myr. A gilded cage but a cage none the less. 

I, however, had an advantage no Westerosi glass maker had.

When I had awoken as Rhaenyra, I had put as much as I remembered of modern technology to paper. Whilst the knowledge of glass creation was not exactly something I could remember now I knew I’d written down some details about it’s creation. Along with a whole treasure trove of technology I could use for the carrot part of a ‘carrot and stick’ routine with the lords of Westeros.

The stick part would, of course, be Syrax.

“I can’t. I came into possession of a book when I was younger. A very poor translation of an older work from the Valyrian Freehold. I copied as much as possible but it was very damaged. It contained many useful technologies but the instructions were rather garbled. I know glass was in there somewhere,” When in doubt imply that your operating on secrets obtained from the Freehold. Anyone with even a drop of Valyrian blood has a tendency to buy it hook, line and sinker.

It would also cover for the fact that I hadn’t exactly remembered many of the instructions. Not that I could remember anything about it now, of course. When I had been four and a fresh, newcomer to Westeros the information had been fresh in my mind but even fresh it was hardly a step by step guide to an uplift.

Oh. Balls. 

I’d hidden it in a tunnel accessible from my old room. My old room in the Tower of the Hand

The current occupant of the Tower was Lyonel Strong and his sons, Harwin and Larys. Larys was easy to deal with. He was intelligent and he enjoyed engaging in intelligent conversation without the pity or mocking that he usually dealt with due to his Clubfoot.

Harwin was a whole different problem. My need for saltpetre had seen me negotiate for access to Harrenhal. In my haste, I may have accidentally given Harwin the idea I was interested in more than a simple trade. The result had been awkward and Alicent had probably gone to sleep laughing for months afterwards.

“Technologies?”

Oh, I used an anachronism, didn’t I?

“That is what the book called them,” I replied with a shrug after the initial moment of panic had worm off.

“Well regardless of the terms a book about Valyrian ‘technologies’ would be invaluable. Do you still have the copy you made?” he asked, eagerly.

“That would be the issue.” I explained the issue with the current location and he sighed.

“The matter with Harwin was ill-done but it can’t be helped now. We must retrieve your copy. Once we have it we can use the information to strengthen our allies and bind them to our cause,” He looked more animated now than I’d ever seen him and I’d seen him as a rambunctious seven year old that wanted to explore the secret passages of the Red Keep.

“Did your notion of Black Powder come from the book?” he asked after settling down.

“It did. As did the notion of the canon. They put them on ships, you know?” I informed him whilst screwing up the paper we’d been writing details about glass on.

“Imagine that? Pirates would never be a problem again,” he murmured.

I poured us some more wine. He took the goblet gratefully and took a sip. I took my own large gulp before adressing the next part of things.

“We have some solid political strategies down but we must talk personal.” It was like letting air out of a balloon as he seemed to literally deflate.

“Didn’t we already decide we were waiting for heirs?” he almost whined.

“Not that. I’m talking about the image we project to the world at large. As much as it pains me to admit, Lord Corlys was right.” Oh boy did it pain me to say that. “You spend your time on Driftmark up to your ears in paperwork and I spend mine of Dragonstone up to my ears in-”

“Bat crap,” Laenor interrupted. 

“Queer dusts and strange powders,” I finished, overlooking his interruption. He smiled and took a drink of his wine once more.

“What would you have us do?” he asked.

“Play the husband. We need to be seen together. Perhaps we could fly Syrax and Seasmoke regularly? And of course, we will need to regularly share a bed-”

“I thought you said this wasn’t about heirs,” he said with a petulant air.

“Stop interrupting me. As I was saying, we need the appearance of a loving couple. One that had a rocky start perhaps but nevertheless…” I trailed of and he nodded as it sank in.

“I wouldn’t mind flying with you regularly. Mother says you have the makings of an excellent rider,” I was beginning to think the heirs situation was something of a hot button issue for Laenor. Whenever the conversation even so much as touched on it he became as tense as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. His relief when steering away from the topic was palpable. His entire demeanour changed in on instant to the next.

“I must thank Rhaenys for her compliment tomorrow. I do, however, remember her telling me that I handled Syrax as gracefully as a rock.” 

That made Laenor laugh. Learning riding from Lady Rhaenys had been fun. Not so much with my other teacher. I flexed hand around the goblet. After another hour of talking, mostly anecdotes about dragons and mothers, we made our way to bed.


	4. Opening Moves -  Chapter 3

Laenor left my rooms as early as was proper. I made a point of kissing him where the maids could see and although I could admit he wasn’t an unpleasant kisser, I could tell from the slight tensing that he’d rather I was Joffrey. Hopefully, it would get back to Corlys and curb some of the ‘talking’ going on.

After that I allowed a batch of giggly maids to attend to me. If we were to head to King’s Landing soon then preparations had to be made. Although I had a dragon, a royal could not just leap on it’s back and leave. I required dresses, attendants, guards, supplies, gifts… The list was almost endless.

An hour long meeting with castellan gave me a partial solution to the dilemma. Laenor and I would fly tomorrow with the bare essentials and our ship would follow along afterwards. There would be a gap of a few days but Viserys had never minded covering for that in the past.

After laying out what would need to be loaded onto the dragons and what the ship would be bringing. The longest part was deciding on appropriate gifts for me siblings. I finally settled on a dagger with a dragon hilt inlaid with emeralds for Aegon, a collection of really fancy thread for Helaena, a wooden sword and shield for Aemond and the usual assortment of rattles one gave to a newborn for Daeron. 

I was willing to admit pride as I made my way to the set of rooms I’d claimed as an office space. One of the first things I’d done when arriving on Dragonstone had been to set up an actual bureaucracy so that no part of the castle lacked oversight. That my staff could now plan and enact royal travel with a days notice was testament to my success.

Apparently, getting too smug had attracted the Gods attention and they’d decided to knock me down a peg or two because as I returned to my office I found Rhaenys waiting outside. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Rhaenys. She was blunt, wore her heart on her sleeve and was absolutely ready to fight 100% of the time. I have fond memories of her ripping Viserys a new one on my behalf.

For all that, Rhaenys was just as dangerous as Corlys and twice as ambitious. She wasn’t cruel though. If she could help someone she would and I couldn’t forget what she’d risked when she’d stood before my Father and the Court and denounced my Uncle with words that, had they come from anyone else, were a good way of getting your tongue removed.

She ushered herself in after me, waving away the offer for refreshment. Before I sat down to deal with her, I sent a runner to Ser Joffrey to order him to attend to me at his earliest convenience. 

“I’ll be heading off for Driftmark soon enough. I came to let you know I’ll be sending my girl to you in King’s Landing,” she informed me as she took a seat.

That was unusual, Laena was adventurous. She mostly spent her time flying on her dragon, planning to fly somewhere with her dragon or sightseeing in places she had flown to on her dragon.

“I always look forward to seeing cousin Laena but I was given to believe she was planning a trip to Pentos.” At least that had been Laenor’s report a couple of days ago when he and his family sans Laena had arrived.

“Corlys put a halt to it when he heard about the trouble on the Stepstones. He wanted one of us on Driftmark in case of trouble but I’ve offered to step in,” Rhaenys explained. I raised an eyebrow. That did explain why Rhaenys was sending her to me rather than to Pentos but didn’t explain why Rhaenys was leaving her husband a dragon short in the face on renewed hostilities.

“Did Lady Laena cancel her plans to fly to Pentos?” I asked. Rhaenys sighed and shook her head.

“She’s too into flying. She needs something to tether her to Westeros and the Seven knows her Father isn’t going to deal with it anytime soon. It’s a mother’s hope she might find someone in court worth breaking that damnable contract. Besides, having a beautiful maiden to flaunt won’t exactly hurt your cause.”

I see. Rhaenys and Corlys are having differences again. From what I’ve gleaned from Laena and Laenor’s slip ups, this is a usual occurrence. They love one another and are a surprisingly good team despite their hugely differing attitudes towards life but every now and again they butt heads and reenact Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s Great Quarrels. Still, Rhaenys is right. Laena is Lordling bait and so I send a message off to the castellan after she’s gone to advise him to co-ordinate with Laenor’s men about Laena.

I was half way through the harbour master’s report about a small collision that had occurred yesterday when Ser Joffrey Lonmouth limped in, leaning heavily on his stick. His brown hair was clipped short and his face was clean-shaven. The clothes he wore were a better fit for an academic than the knight he was. A far cry from the look he bore when I first met him. 

Joffrey then had been brash and proud with long hair he’d had in a knot and a well-groomed beard. He’d duelled a few squires who’d made remarks about him and Laenor and on the same day made it clear to me that Laenor was his and that he wasn’t in the mood to share. I’d warned them both about Criston. My warning had saved Ser Joffrey’s life but he’d been crippled in the aftermath. The brash youth was gone and I had only my inability to manage Criston to blame.

Like the Black Powder, he was another failure. I’d assumed that as long as I didn’t encourage him or openly act ‘unchaste’ he’d remain loyal. That his betrayal had been fuelled by Rhaenyra’s behaviour in the original time line. I’d been proved wrong and I should have seen it coming.

The Kingsguard had been in love with me. He had created a story in his head that I was the beautiful Princess and he the dashing Knight. That, somehow, I would eventually end up with him. When Uncle Daemon had blown in, Ser Criston had been my shield in truth. When my betrothal had been announced he’d expected to defend me again.

He’d come to me before the wedding and laid out a plan to flee to the Disputed Lands. There, he claimed, he would win fame as a mercenary so that he could ensure I had everything I deserved. I had done my best but it hadn’t been enough. I had not been diplomatic in my refusal, I had been too shocked that I had missed all the warning signs even though I had known something would happen.

I should have flattered him, soothed his hurt ego and rejected him gently. I hadn’t and his desperate love had turned to hate and rage. Laenor had been the target and since he couldn’t directly harm Laenor, he’d tried to kill Ser Joffrey. A ‘take what’s mine and I’ll take what’s yours’ scenario. He’d gunned for Joffrey, ignored countless other Knights in the melee and it had been all that Joffrey could do to even survive.

In the aftermath, it did not seem to matter how much Laenor professed he did care about the injury, how he loved him, Ser Joffrey would not believe him. He’d come to me and begged my pardon for not listening to me and offered to serve in my household, so that he would not be burden to his family. I had agreed. I had gotten Criston Cole so wrong and it had destroyed someone in turn. I felt guilty. I couldn’t help but hope that with a little bit of time to realise he could be useful as something other than a fighter that he’d find his way back to Laenor.

“You called for me, your grace?” he asked as he lowered himself into the chair with difficulty. I made a show of filing the report before turning my attention to him as finished making himself comfortable.

“I will be heading to King’s Landing tomorrow. I’ve made the material arrangements with the castellan but I have some tasks for you whilst I’m gone.” There was no point asking how he was or asking nicely. He would take it as pity and sulk for weeks.

“Will Ser Laenor be departing with you?” he asked, a note of longing in his voice. I brushed over it.

“He will. We’re hoping to touch base with loyal lords at court, amongst other things,” I replied, ignoring the look on his face. “As for Dragonstone, it seems Lord Corlys has people here. I want every single one of his informers shipped to Driftmark.”

Joffrey ran a hand through his short hair and looked thoughtful.

“I did think he was overstepping his mark but you didn’t give orders to the contrary so I didn’t think to address the issue. I would advise we don’t send them all though. It would be a solid plan to keep a few in place to feed misinformation to our enemies.”

That was a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that. I studied the man opposite. I was loathe to admit it but I had been finding him gopher jobs in the few months he’d been here. Apparently I’d caught his ability to turf out Alicent’s spies and completely missed the fact he had a mind for sneakiness I could use. If I made him ‘master of whispers’ I could hopefully get another window into Westeros that wasn’t being filtered through the various factions amongst the Blacks and Greens.

I pulled a sheet of paper close. Technically, when writing a proclamation that someone has the authority to speak on your behalf it should be done on vellum, not paper. It was, surprise surprise, considered an insult but I judged Joffrey to be among the less block headed members of my staff.

“I would have you become my spy master of sorts,” I said as I slid it across to him and he read it, eyes widening.

“You grace! I…” he paused, mouth moving. It was more than a crippled second son had any right to expect. I saw the anger at the imagined pity.

“Don’t mistake this for pity or kindness, Ser Joffrey. You are capable and have my complete trust but I have no doubt that you’ll be cursing my name in a years time. I’m tasking you with routing out my enemies spies as well as establishing spies of your own within their ranks,” I informed him, taking care that my voice was cooler than I actually felt.

He swallowed audibly and nodded, staring at the paper transfixed. Having the ear of the heir to the throne was no minor thing.

“I should begin immediately,” he said finally.

“Speak to the castellan for an allocation of funds. Nothing too extravagant. Our goal is to ensure Dragonstone answers to me and only me currently,” The paper I’d given him should mean the cranky old man should listen to Joffrey. Oh well, he could come and find me if he was refused.

“I will not let you down, you Grace,” he swore as he pushed himself to his feet with a bit of struggle. My smugness about something going my way lasted until well past dinner, when Laenor presented himself at the door to my rooms looking decidedly discontent.

“You made Joffrey your voice on Dragonstone,” he accused the moment the doors shut and the room was free of unwelcome ears. “You made him your spymaster.”

“Yes Laenor, I did. He has a mind for people and the Seven know he needs something to do.” I snapped back, good mood evaporating. My husband dropped onto the bed and rested his head in his hands before sighing.

“I’m sorry. I should not… I miss him. I miss him so much. It’s like I’m missing an arm,” he flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling, talking to himself more than me. “Maybe Qarl is right and I should let him stew through it on his own.”

“Qarl?” I asked, voice weak. Laenor sat up, blushing slightly in the candlelight.

“Yes. Ser Qarl Correy. He and I have been…” He paused as if looking for the right word. “…close recently.”

Whhhhhhhhhhhhhy?


	5. Opening Moves -  Chapter 4

Flying on the back of a dragon was indescribable. Nothing could compare to sitting astride a dragon as it soared through the air. Atop Syrax, I could understand why the Freehold had thought itself above gods and men. A light touch of the whip urged Syrax onward. She shuddered beneath me before pushing herself ahead of the bulkier Seasmoke. I let out a laugh of joy as I saw the chagrin on Laenor’s face as I moved to overtake.

King’s Landing was beginning to peer over the horizon. We’d be there within ten or so minutes. The thought wasn’t quite enough to take the joy from me, nothing could whilst flying Syrax, but it was enough to temper it. To get my thoughts moving back into the mind set I would need to survive court.

It had been a hectic morning. I’d awoken early to track down Joffrey. He hadn’t been keen on the idea of getting rid of Laenor’s current lover but brief rant about the Knight’s dubious claims of honour had seen the Stormlander clench his jaw and promise Qarl Correy would dealt with. Perhaps this was how my descent started because I was fairly sure that if Joffrey had him killed I wouldn’t care. In another life he was bought and paid for to end Laenor’s life. Better route him out now than risk a blade at our back later. Especially if he had been Daemon’s stooge. 

As we soared over the Keep both dragons let out a bellowing roar. We made for the Dragonpit and I was reminded of yet something else I would need to deal with when I ruled. The Dragonpit was bad for dragons raised in it. There seemed to be a point in a dragons development when the malign effects were lessened but it was easy to figure out which dragons had spent too much time in the pit in their younger years.

Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, Vhagar - All were huge creatures for their ages and strong fliers to boot. In comparison, dragons such as Dreamfyre, my own Syrax and even Rhaenys’ Meleys were smaller and more slender. They lacked the sheer power non-pit dragons of similar ages. Of course, the pit dragons were easier to claim and train so perhaps that had been Maegor and Jaehaerys’ thoughts when they’d built the place.

The pit dragons may be stunted to start with but they could be salvaged. Plenty of food and flying had seen my Syrax able to match Seasmoke in speed and she was, according to Rhaenys, one of the best living dragons when it came to aerobatics. Rhaenys’ Meleys was now bigger and stronger than Dreamfyre, a dragon older than her by a few decades simply due to being on Driftmark for just over two decades.

I allowed Laenor to land first, circling the pit as keepers rushed forward to attend. Seasmoke snapped and growled as his harness was removed and a great loop of steel chain pulled about his neck. Laenor’s whip snapped a few times as he drove his dragon into the pit proper. It was quick and efficient. No one wanted to mess around where a dragon was concerned. They might suffer their riders but anyone else was fair game, either for roasting or a simple bite or swipe of the claws.

With a pang of loss I took Syrax in for the landing. She knew the routine, having spent most of her early life here and needed much less guidance than Seasmoke had. Again, the keepers were quick and efficient and Syrax soon followed Seasmoke into the gloom with minimal prodding.

I allowed myself a deep breath in the blazing sun of King’s Landing. Up here, on Rhaneys’ Hill, the stench of the city was well obscured by the smell of Dragon and that had long ceased to bother me. Around me, men scurried to separate our baggage from the harnesses. Being royalty had it’s upsides I supposed. Like never having to unpack your bags.

I was pulled from my musing by a the approach of a tall knight dressed in the armour of the Dragon Keepers. They had supposedly sworn an oath to defend the Dragonpit and the dragons themselves from danger whilst they rested. They oversaw pit security and the dragon’s actual keepers, usually smallfolk drawn in by the promise of good coin and a payout if they died or were injured in their duties. 

From the sneer he couldn’t quite hide and the shallow bow that was just inside propriety I would guess he was one of Alicent’s appointments. No wonder the Dragonpit was left so undefended in canon if this was the quality of men we were letting in these days. No doubt the scent of war had these green knights charging forth, convinced that because they’d seen dragons docile under their riders, they could handle a dragon in battle.

“Your Grace,” he began with obvious distaste. “I am Ser Byren Hastwyck, current Commander of the Pit. I welcome you to King’s Landing in the name of His Grace King Viserys the First. I have taken the liberty to arrange for a litter to take you to Keep.”

Now there was a problem. If I took the litter I would be hidden from the smallfolk of King’s Landing. Given I didn’t know how I would be received by them the litter was probably safer. Then again the smallfolk reception would give me an accurate litmus test for the current attitudes in the capital. When in doubt, get a second opinion?

“Lord Husband! Do you desire to ride through the city or take the litter?” I shouted, ignoring Ser Byren’s startled look. Laenor, clearly amused, abandoned his task of directing the stewards and made his way over. I hoped he caught on that this Knight was not friendly.

“Riding if that’s possible, Rhaenyra, I can’t stand the litter,” he replied once he was in speaking range. If his answer displeased Alicent’s stooge, he didn’t show it. Instead he gave a stiff bow and promised that horses would be ready soon.

I placed my hands on Laenor’s hips, even as he tensed slightly.

“It seems Alicent’s rot extends to the Dragonpit,” I murmured. His arms wound around my back and he lowered his head so he could murmur in turn. His warm breath across my ear took me by surprise and I shuddered. If he realised why, he didn’t show it.

“A strengthened Black faction can check her ambition, Rhaenyra. We just need to focus on building it up,” he assured me in a low voice.

I curled into him, luxuriating in a warm, firm body before checking myself. By the Seven, could I at least keep it in my pants for five minutes? Yet when I pulled away it was with a reluctance I didn’t want to feel. Being seventeen again was a pain, all those hormones and no place to safely stick them. Laenor shot me a puzzled glance as Ser Byren made his way back to us.

“Your horses are ready,” he stated with the air of someone who simply wished we could be gone as soon as possible. I had been away from the capital for too long if Alicent had managed to install enough of her supporters that this minor Knight felt comfortable dancing so close to outright hostility.

I hesitate to say that the ride through the city was uneventful. It started off without much fanfare with some of the Kinghts of the Dragonpit forming around us but we were soon getting attention. Thankfully, the smallfolk of King’s Landing seemed remarkably ambivalent to me. I couldn’t pick out anything overly harsh but they also didn’t seem to have the love for me that Margaery Tyrell had inspired in canon. It was certainly something to look into cultivating at least, the smallfolk of King’s Landing had hated Rhaenyra so much they’d died by the thousands to slaughter the dragons within the Dragonpit. As we got closer to the Keep the crowds grew thicker and the noise louder, mostly from the various markets. I noted Gold Cloaks reacting, forming a barrier and shoving them back out of our way so that we weren’t held up in traffic. 

Eventually, with much smiling and waving, we made it to the Keep. We were shown into a set of rooms and given time to freshen ourselves up and change from the riding clothes to court clothes and then it was time to confront Viserys. Joy. Laenor was oddly quiet the entire time. As much as I wanted to ask him what was going on, we didn’t have time.

The Throne room was as unchanged as always. The huge skulls of dragons past hung from the walls interspersed with tapestry's depicting Aenar the Wise, Daenys the Dreamer, Gaemon the Glorious and Aegon the Conqueror. It was full to the brim with nobles from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms with the exception of the Iron Islands and the North. Much to my annoyance, I noticed that the Reach seemed extremely overrepresented. When I reached the foot of the Throne I bowed low to it’s occupant whilst simultaneously trying to ignore the person sitting on the smaller throne next to him.

“Daughter, it pleases me much that you have blessed us all here with your presence,” came Viserys’ voice. I stood up straight and shot him a polite smile. Next to him, Alicent glared daggers at me in the corner of my eye.

He’d put on weight in the few months since I’d last seen him. Viserys had always been prone to overindulge in food and wine. When Prince Baelon had been alive, he’d dragged Viserys out every morning to spar. After he died and Viserys became heir, that exercise stopped and my royal father had begun piling on the pounds. Now it seemed he was indulging himself even more which didn’t bode well for him living a long and healthy life in which he somehow outlives Alicent.

“I, and my Lord Husband, thank you for your welcome, Father,” I replied. At my words Laenor stepped forward and bowed again and Viserys’ smile grew even wider. Probably at the thought that heirs were only around the corner if we were finally getting on. I forged onward. “I have heard I have a new brother, Father, and have come here to pay respects.”

That got the court murmuring and Alicent frowning. Daeron had not been presented to the court yet and likely wouldn’t for a month or so. Not until the Maester could be sure he was unlikely to fall prey to any of the common ailments baby’s were wont to get in Westeros. The fact that I had come early, seemingly eager to meet a male sibling, no doubt had them all wondering what I was up too. Viserys, on the other hand, merely beamed at my perceived love for a new brother.

“Of course, daughter! I will arrange a private family meal and you can catch up with your other siblings as well.” Oh Viserys, you poor silly fool. This is not going to go how you want it too.

As Laenor and I made a show of happily accepting I realised something. This is going to be another awkward family dinner again, isn’t it?


	6. Opening Moves -  Chapter 5

After waiting around and chatting to the various nobles, touching base with a few of the present Blacks to boot, until it was socially appropriate to retreat, Laenor and I found ourselves in a suite of rooms. Our luggage had been brought up and unpacked for us, I was relieved to note. Ser Byren seemed the type to ‘lose’ it in transit.

Now I felt a tiny shred of guilt for making a mention to Father that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his job at the Dragonpit due to the fine temper he had been in. Father’s annoyed look had told me he’d gotten my meaning and that Ser Hastwyck wouldn’t have his royal appointment much longer. Only a tiny one though. One that could easily be banished by remembering his sneer.

Before we dressed, I collared a passing servant myself and had two messages sent out. One to the Guild of Alchemists to request a meeting at their soonest convenience and the other to Ser Harwin Strong and Larys Strong, inviting them to eat with us tomorrow night.

No doubt Alicent would be more interested in my message to Harwin. At the moment, even Viserys occasionally contracted the Alchemist’s Guild so even if many might mutter about it, it would likely be written off as a product of my uncommon interest in alchemy. No one would invoke the w-word in relation to it at least. Harwin was a different story. Laenor would have to be there at all times, Larys too. If I got permission to search the tunnels I would have to convince the older brother to remain with Laenor and allow me to go alone or with just Larys. No one would believe I’d sleep with Larys, poor guy. It was an annoyance but if I had to play the political game I needed to stop handing my enemies ammunition.

A few hours later, a steward stopped by to lead us to the private dining area used by the royal family as if I, the heir apparent, did not know where it was. I kept my smile gracious though. I could not afford rumours of a bad temper to go about. I gave word for a steward to follow us with the gifts I’d bought. When we arrived, Viserys and Alicent were there sans children but clutching a sniffling bundle of cloth Alicent that I assumed to be Daeron. Thankfully, the Kingsguard on duty was not the Lord Commander. I’d probably end up stabbing Criston if I had to deal with him today.

Father enveloped me in a hug I wish I could let myself enjoy before moving on to Laenor. Hugs from the royal person were not something that happened everyday and the aftermath left Laenor looking dumbfounded. I was hard not to laugh as Viserys steered me over to the latest addition to the family. Daeron was a baby. Babies, for the most part, look exactly the same. Still, I made a show of cooing over him and even managed to coax a smile from him.

I was interrupted from making a show of being a good big sister by a bundle of energy flinging itself into my legs. This one I gave a genuine smile to as Helaena beamed up at me.

“Hello little one!” I exclaimed as I lifted her up. She immediately curled into me for a hug I gladly returned. In the corner of my eye, Viserys smile widened and Alicent looked as if someone had just served her curdled milk. 

“Did you bring presents?” she asked, eye wide.

“Of course!” I smiled and let her down. As I did I caught sight of Aegon and Aemond.

I’d tried. I really had. I’d played the doting big sister, read them stories and made time for them. It had seemed like it was working for a while. Then I’d noticed him drawing back, shying away. When Alicent had suggested betrothing me to Aegon, the boy had exploded into a fury before storming away which had nixed that idea. I’d tried to coax the reason for his outburst from him but what I’d got was a whole lot of garbled, snot covered whining that sounded as if it could be ripped straight from Alicent’s mouth.

I’d gathered she’d spent every moment I wasn’t with Aegon telling him I was stealing his birthright, intending on killing him or worse. A whole lot of me was furious. Alicent had terrified the poor boy and in doing so had laid the first slab on the path to the Dance. On the other hand, the Rhaenyra in me was angry that her overtures of love had been denied and wanted to slap the sulky little brat for being rude.

It was had to separate that out.

Helaena had been a pleasant success. Evidently, Alicent hadn’t found the need to fill her daughter’s head with visions of me literally eating babies and by the time she’d realised a need too nothing short of watching me murder kittens was going to convince Helaena I was anything other than the greatest older sister to ever exist. In response, she’d kept Aemond from me as much as she could get away with. So now I had two sulky little brothers and a bundle of energy and affection for a sister.

And now Daeron. Was it too much to hope she was lured into a false sense of security by me relocating to Dragonstone? Given the way she was clutching him to her chest, I’d say not.

“Aegon, look at you! You’ve grown so much,” I said with all the false pride of an older sister. He straightened under my scrutiny and shot me a practised smile that I was impressed to see only looked slightly strained. Aemond gave me a baleful look as I turned to him. Mother above, what had Alicent been telling him that a four year old would have that expression.

“Have you started squiring yet?” I asked.

“He has, under Ser Criston Cole,” Alicent said from somewhere behind me. There was a note of maliciousness to her voice. Her acquisition of Cole was one of her greatest victories and she enjoyed shoving it in my face at every conceivable moment.

“Has Ser Criston forbidden him to speak?” I asked her archly, my temper coming to the fore for a moment.

“Rhaenyra!” barked Viserys, warning in his tone. Beside him, Laenor looked like he’d rather be informing The Cannibal that he was, in fact, a very delicious baby dragon and Alicent looked triumphant. Aemond laid a hand on his brother’s arm, looking ready to leap at me and start biting.

“I apologise. That was ill-done of me,” I answered, forcing the anger down. It would not do to pull a Daemon and try to punch a seven-year old child. A traumatised seven-ear old child who was terrified enough, I reminded myself. 

“You shouldn’t apologise, Aegon was being rude,” came Helaena’s pouted response.

“No, he wasn’t!” Aemond all but screeched and Helaena glared at him with such ferocity I suddenly wanted to laugh.

“No, Helaena is right. I was being rude. I apologise, Sister.”

Oh, that was bad. Aegon had finally found his voice and I could see Ser Criston’s polished and precise manner in it. Aemond shot me a look of pure venom even as Aegon struggled to keep his polite smile up even as he shook in fear. It was hard to be angry with him when he looked like he was about to faint. I clapped my hands together and gestured the forgotten gifts forward.

Aegon looked as if his soul was about to leave his body when he saw the dagger. I made sure to give it too him hilt first, it may have a fancy sheath but given the way the boy was eyeing it anyone would think I was seconds away from stabbing him with it. His bow was polite enough and I was somewhat amused to see that his first instinct was to unsheathe it and poke it to see if it was sharp. It was and he made his finger bleed. He didn’t tahnk me but I let it go because Alicent was making such a fuss you’d think he’d just cut his thumb off.

After that, I presented Helaena with her thread. She was fond of sewing and she was good at it too. She thanked me happily and her bow was sloppy but genuine. Aemond took his gifts with a pout and a bow so shallow that had it come from anyone else would have been breathtakingly rude. Still he was four and convinced I was going to murder him and his siblings at some point so I overlooked it.

Daeron wasn’t old enough to do anything more than gurgle and wiggle so Alicent thanked me for his gifts with such an icy tone that I came close to calling her on it. Our impromptu staring match was interrupted by Viserys clapping his hands together loudly.

“Perhaps we should all sit down,” he said after Alicent and I recovered from our simultaneous heart attacks.

Laenor seized the King’s interruption like a drowning man spotting dry land and all but threw himself into his seat. I took a seat at his side at a much more sedate pace after favouring Helaena with a smile and wink. Helaena took the chair to my other side and stuck her tongue out at Aemond when Viserys and Alicent weren’t looking. Daeron was handed off to his nursemaids and whisked away as the food was laid out.

“I have heard you’ve been busy on Driftmark, Ser Laenor,” said Alicent after a period of silence as we dug in. Laenor gave a her a smile and nodded.

“Father had me overseeing the ongoing construction at High Tide and working to ensure Spicetown’s growth is well managed,” he replied. “But he’s made other arrangements after speaking with Rhaenyra,”

Before Alicent could spring whatever nasty remark she’d been setting up, Viserys interrupted.

“Speaking with? He has been on Dragonstone?” The question was directed at me more than Laenor.

“Yes, Lord Corlys travelled back recently. Although he’ll be leaving again soon for the Stepstones once more.” I said, leaving out the fact that he’d only come back to yell at Laenor for not producing an heir fast enough and his reduction of Laenor’s duties being directly related to that.

“Is there any news of Daemon?” asked Viserys and I briefly had a vision of him wearing my soup bowl. Judging from the brief look of utter distaste that flashed across Alicent’s face, we were still united in our feelings on Daemon. As Laenor explained to situation on the islands, I allowed myself to tune out, whilst massaging my suddenly aching fingers.

Then again, Daemon was usually the only topic that we did agree on. The rumours about their supposed affair were true and had been the basis for Otto’s complete and utter loathing of the man. Daemon’s antics had also been the basis for the rift in the friendship I had been cultivating with Alicent given that she perceived him abandoning her to shower me with attention. That I very much didn’t want it hadn’t meant much to her.

Still, whaling on Daemon (or his reputation when he wasn’t present) was a good wholesome activity both the Blacks and the Greens used as a point of unity. I thought it was nice that we could all put aside our differences every now and again but Viserys apparently didn’t see it that way. Even when Daemon had… Even when I had told him about Daemon he hadn’t cared to listen.

Instead, he’d scolded me for turning against family. Told me my grandfather would be ashamed to see me using court politics to so shame my own Uncle. I suppressed the old rage. I knew Viserys was wrong, Prince Baelon would have cracked both their heads together had he been informed about Daemon’s behaviour. It was in Viserys’ nature though to seek the easy path, to ignore problems and allow them escalate until they exploded in his face.

My fingers were proof enough.

The Dance of Dragons was proof enough.

I tuned back in to discover Laenor and Viserys discussing what could be done about the Dornish potentially allying with the Triarchy. As much as I didn’t wish to do anything that would help Daemon, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to score some brownie points with Viserys for at least trying.

“The Dornish follow the Seven, do they not?” I asked. 

“Hmmm, yes. It’s belief is stronger to the west but those on the coast do follow it,” he replied, stroking his moustache. I hated that stupid moustache so much.

“Perhaps we can send some singers into the western part of Dorne to sing about the evils of slavery,” I suggested.

“It couldn’t hurt and at best it could cause a rift in Dornish unity. I will put the idea to the Master of Whispers.” Oh good. It’ll never get done then. Honestly, Viserys why did you even appoint Jaremy Corbray. He thinks any kind of sneaking around is beneath anyone with ‘honour’ and certainly beneath a Knight like himself.

Oh who am I kidding? Incompetence is entirely in character for you.


	7. Opening Moves - Chapter 6

Painfully awkward dinner finally over with, Laenor and I slunk back to our rooms after promising that gifts would be following us via boat. Awaiting us were too notices in reply to my earlier messages. One from the Alchemists Guild inviting us to tour their building tomorrow and discuss whatever business I had with one of their Wisdoms. The second was from the Strong brothers accepting our invitation to dinner.

Laenor opted to stick to his own rooms that night. It was all well and good for him to sleep in my bed some of the time but too much was considered unseemly which I honestly considered an odd double standard. Sleep didn’t come easy and found myself awake as dawn broke over King’s Landing feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all.

The maids, likely Alicent’s creatures as my own had not yet arrived, clucked over my dark, sunken eyes and brought out a range of cosmetics I was forced to sharply order to be put away as I was fairly certain it was full of fun and exciting poisons that I wasn’t keen to rub into my face.

Instead I settled for a quick, relatively speaking anyway, bath and several cups of Mint Tea to pull my mind into the present and out of the longing to go back bed. I still didn’t look my best when Laenor presented himself at my door but I couldn’t afford to put off a visit to the Guild. Not if they could help me get the Black Powder working.

I opted for a litter instead of riding through the city. I was too tense to smile and make it look convincing and too tired to play the beautiful flawless princess of the people. Laenor sulked about it as it turns out he genuinely didn’t like the litter but he took pity when faced with an expression that I had hoped conveyed the possibility of impending wrath but according to him made me look like I was about to cry.

The city was awake around us. I heard pedllers and stall owners hawking their goods, two men arguing about a broken cartwheel, a gold cloak hauling a thief off to the barracks and more as I dozed the entire way to the Guild. Laenor left me alone the entire way, which was something I was grateful for.

The Wisdom that greeted us was a tall man with dark hair turning grey and eyes that betrayed a First Man origin. His bow was deep and respectful and seemed genuine. When he straightened up, he had a smile on his face that had his eyes twinkling.

“Your Graces, can I start by saying how honoured we are that you are visiting today,” he began. “I am Wisdom Jerrett,” 

“I’m honoured to be invited to visit, Wisdom, I’ve heard much about the Guild,” I replied. Keep back the main flattery for later if they got stingy with secrets. Laenor echoed my sentiments but seemed happy for me to take the lead, so I did. 

Jerrett gestured us to follow. I allowed him to show off the buildings and the labs. They were impressive for a medieval guild. He seemed especially proud of the custom-made glass implements they imported from Myr, expanding on their uses. I managed to understand every third word but I think the gist was that they were used in distillation, something that surprised me. From what I’d seen, the idea of distillation didn’t seem to well known in Westeros at large.

I made sure Laenor and I made all the appropriate noises of awe and shock and Wisdom Jerrett only swelled further with pride. Here was a man who lived and breathed Alchemy and the Guild. Any compliment for them was compliment to him. I dread to think how he would have reacted had I accidentally insulted them.

It was a very happy Wisdom that led us into a bright and airy office and seated himself behind the desk as we placed ourselves in front of it.

“Truly well worth the visit, do you not think, Rhaenyra?” Laenor began. The Wisdom puffed up even more.

“Oh indeed. Forgive me , however, I did not come entirely for the tour,” I made sure to inject a note of apology into my tone. I did not want the Wisdom to suspect he was being used. I needn’t have bothered. Jerrett leant forward in his chair, looking fascinated.

“We had heard rumours of Her Grace’s interest in Alchemy. They were not wrong?” He sounded thrilled at the thought of a royal alchemist. 

“I fear I do not understand most principals of Alchemy but I had been attempting to recreate a recipe I found in an old book. I confess, I have only found failure,” I ‘admitted’. Jerrett looked thoughtful before pulling a battered and already scrawled on piece of paper towards him.

“Could you describe the recipe? And the book?” he asked, preparing a quill and ink. I relayed the main points of Black Powder to him. After jotting it down he summoned an apprentice and ordered the young-looking boy to see if the Guild had anything similar in their records.

“The books itself… I remember it didn’t make a a lot of sense, it was in poor condition to start with. The language was confused and imprecise, I suspect now of course, that it was a poor translation of an earlier work. I’d thought it Valyrian in origin. I know that it was likely worth it weight in gold but as a child it was merely an interesting prop to practise my hand with.”

The Wisdom nodded along with my explanation, face solemn.

“A sad but common tale. Have you given thought that it may have been fake? Some sort of joke?”

It wasn’t and I knew it wasn’t but I could hardly tell him why. I shrugged in response and he stroked his chin before shrugging himself.

“No doubt, Your Grace, we shall discover the truth when young Harald returns from his search. If it is legitimate however, I would be very interested to see it,” his tone was light but a book on ancient tech probably had him drooling internally.

I had an idea.

My understanding of the tech I’d written down had been shaky at best, mostly half remembered from a satirical book on rebuilding the world if you got stuck in the past somehow. I wouldn’t have the time to interpret that half understanding of my younger self into real world tech if I was going to be getting political and I certainly couldn’t trust Maesters to help.

“Of course, Wisdom Jerrett. It may be selfish but I had hoping to use anything newly discovered to improve Dragonstone.”

The Wisdom got my hint immediately. He nodded.

“Should in turn out to be worth looking into, perhaps we could discuss setting up a small campus there. You would have the finest minds of the Alchemist’s Guild on hand to sort the wheat from the chaff.”

Got you.

I was feeling indulgent enough not to point out that being involved in my pseudo-tech uplift from the beginning would massively boost their prestige in relation to the Maesters.

It took ‘young Harald’ another half and hour to appear with an old leather bound book. Jerrett immediately flipped it open, sending a cloud of dust into the air that had me sneezing and Laenor coughing.

“Apologies, apologies, Your Graces. A hazard one gets used to when working with old tomes. Now, lets see… Powders, powders… hmmmmmm, how interesting.” After that he was silent for a few moments but I could see his grey eyes flickering back and forth across the page. Finally, he shut it and handed the tome back to Harald.

“Take this back to the archives and have a room set up with a supply of Niter, Vitriol and Charcoal,” he barked. Harald all but dematerialised from the mans room. Jerrett then smiled at us.

“It seems this book may well be the real thing. The Black Powder you have described is known to us. Although I suspect it is not Valyrian in origin but somewhere further East,” he explained.

I was forced to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. So it was me, I had gotten the recipe wrong. My dream of shooting Otto in his stupid knees could still come true! 

“The East? Like Yi-Ti?” he asked, barely constrained excitement. Of all of the Sea Snakes legendary journeys it seemed that Yi-Ti excited Laenor the most, I would have to remember that. The Wisdom was nodding.

“Indeed. I have often said that at it’s heart, Alchemy is the scientific study of magic. In the West, this method has only been in use for a few hundred years. We are too eager to rely on superstition and belief. The East are far more enlightened than us in this regard. The understand the need to study magic and have since before the fall of the Great Empire of the Dawn.” He sounded like he was lecturing but not even my internal glee at the thought of Black Powder could distract me from that name drop.

“The Great Empire of the Dawn. I thought it a myth?” The Wisdom shook his head so hard I was worried he was going to make himself dizzy.

“Not at all. We have a lot of evidence that it very much existed although perhaps not ruled by God Kings.” We all gave an indulgent chuckle at that.

“What is this evidence? How does it relate to Alchemy?” asked Laenor. Talk of the East had definitely made this visit way more interesting for him. 

“Oh, there’s the obvious evidence such as the Five Forts and other such buildings dotted about Essos but if we’re talking Alchemy then nothing is more proof than the Tablet of Stars.” He said it with such reverence that both I and Laenor found ourselves leaning forward.

“Found in Asshai, few Westerosi scholars have ever managed to get close enough to describe it. They say it speaks of the Great Empire’s fall into anarchy and the first Long Night.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh god no. No white walkers please.

My face must have reflected my horror because he chuckled and leant back.

“I wouldn’t worry, Your Grace. Many civilisations from that time have records of the Long Night. It’s been accepted by scholars all over Westeros and Essos that this was some sort of super winter. Keeping an Empire together in those circumstances would have been next to impossible. Why, what records we have from the North in that same time period says that even a much smaller kingdom shattered into independent tribes.”

Why did today keep going from bad to good to bad? I was interrupted from my brooding and Laenor’s total fan-boying over Yi-ti by Harald’s reappearance to let us know the room Jerrett had requested had been prepared. We dutifully followed him through the halls to another surprisingly well lit room. Laid out were three jars of powder I recognised, a mortar and pestle, measuring implements, a candle, wooden splints and for some reason a knife.

We watched in silence as Jerrett pulled on a pair of gloves and began grinding the three ingredients into a fine powder. He measured out a mixture that looked roughly like my own before mixing to Black Powder itself. Finally he took a small pinch of the finished powder a placed it on a ceramic tile.

“It does look like yours,” Laenor hazarded after a moment.

“Eastern books refer to this as Burn Powder. When properly prepared, it will burn and explode readily,” explained Jerrett, lighting a wooden splint. Then, as we watched, he placed it against the powder. Nothing happened.

“I see your look of confusion. This powder is not the finished product. You likely stopped here thinking it finished but there is one more step.” He pulled of his glove and picked up the knife. Then whilst holding his hand over the small deposit of powder he pricked his finger and bled on it. Using the kife he ensured the blood was soaked in before retrieving another splint.

This time, when he pressed the splint to it, it burst into flame.

I stared in horror, not bothering to smother it in a mask of politeness.

“I understand your horror, Your Grace. We try not to use blood in our practises here. I take it the original manual did not go into detail about this part.”

I shook my head. I had no words. Beside me, Laenor looked similarly pale. Looking sympathetic, Jerrett steered us back to his office, leaving Harald to clean up.


	8. Opening Moves -  Chapter 7

It had been Laenor who’d had the sense to arrange a further meeting about setting up a satellite campus on Dragonstone and access to the ‘book’. I’d been too busy trying to set my feelings in order. In order to create Black Powder in sufficient quantities I would need to wade through a literal river of blood. I would burn through any reputation I developed. It would be worse than original Rhaenyra, worse than Maegor even.

I blinked in the afternoon light as Laenor steered me into the litter. I felt numb. What kind of bullshit logic did this place operate on? All this talk about ancient tablets, the Long Night and blood magic was taking a second seat to the fact that even when the first round of testing had not worked I’d still assumed I’d get the Black Powder somehow. That I’d still have guns and that all the politics could be avoided with a superior show of firepower.

When the litter stopped we were not at the Red Keep but the Dragonpit. At my questioning look, Laenor smiled and placed a warm hand over my cool one.

“You looked upset. I figured we could make a start on that promise to fly together,” he said, with a reassuring smile.

“Thank you. And… Thank you for sorting things out with Wisdom Jerrett.” I had to fight a wince at my tone. I sounded exhausted. I felt exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to fly to Dragonstone, curl up in my bed and weep at how unfair it all was. He held me close for a few moments and I tried not to care about that jolt of wrongness.

The flight on Syrax cheered me up. The feeling of freedom that being a Princess tended to strangle. As Seasmoke and Syrax danced over the waves we caught sight of the vast bulk of Vhagar flying alongside two ships. One bore a Velaryon banner and the other Targaryen one. Together, Laenor and I moved in, circling Vhagar. She was not a fast beast and our playful flitting back forth certainly got a rise out of her rider if the yelling was any indication.

I felt better by the time we had all landed and the dragons moved into Dragonpit. Less like the world had ended but I still felt fragile, as if any little thing could shatter me. I couldn’t afford to shatter in King’s Landing. I happily sank into Laena’s hug before moving away and laughing as Laenor ruffled his sister’s immaculate ringlets and she slapped at his hands in mock annoyance.

“So, I hear you were on the wrong end of Father recently,” Laena mentioned as we clambered into the litter. Laenor groaned and Laena laughed. She was in an odd position when it came to her father. She was the second half of his grand plan to cement his legacy. Beautiful, wealthy and equipped with a dragon, Corlys had sought marry his daughter to my father, the King, because aim high I guess. When he failed, he’d used her to secure Braavos’ support in his upcoming conquest.

A marriage to the then Sea Lord’s son with the understanding he would have the prestige of a dragon rider for a wife, the Sea Snake’s incredible wealth and the subtle pressure of his wife’s family controlling shipping in the narrow sea via the Stepstones backing him to succeed his father when he died. But the Sea Lord of Braavos’ died early and Tycheo Hartios had proved an utter wastrel. He’d quickly squandered his father’s money after his death by making several appallingly bad investments. Investments that had actually managed to damage his family name by sheer association. Apparently the Braavosi nobles saw lack of financial acumen as major turn off much as one dishonourable family member could tank a Westerosi House for generations, I supposed. By the time Laena was eligible to marry he’d been a penniless scion of a declining house. 

Corlys’ pride would not allow him to marry his daughter to such a man but a lot of the upfront money for the Conquest had been Hartios money. The Iron Bank themselves were involved when the contract was written and the contract stated she was to marry him. So Corlys came up with excuse after excuse as to why the wedding couldn’t happen yet whilst plying Tycheo with wine and women in the hope the fool would get himself killed.

No wonder he’d jumped on Daemon marrying Laena in the original timeline, in fact, I’d take a bet that Corlys had asked Daemon to rid him of the stupid boy in the process. Just mentioning his name would have Corlys grinding his teeth, a fact I can assure you I did not take advantage of.

The odd intersection of the deadlock on the marriage front, the massive dragon and Laena’s own personality meant her father was completely unsure of how to deal with her and so solved his problem by not dealing with her at all. As far as I could tell, as long as he was unable to incorporate her into his ongoing plans to strengthen House Velaryon, he liked to pretend she didn’t exist.

“Rhaenyra dared have an original idea,” said Laenor dryly, sending Laena into peels of laughter. “He took it as well as expected.”

That just made Laena laugh harder.

“He blundered though. Now I know he has men on Dragonstone I intend to send them back to him via Driftmark,” I said lightly. Laenor frowned, likely realising that I was referring to Joffrey. No doubt he was worrying about the Knight being in danger. Corlys was basically a more restrained Tywin, I’d come to realise. He would not strike at me for the insult but Joffrey had no such protection.

“Oh, I would pay to see Father’s face when he gets that note from Mother. Probably along with her commentary as well. ‘Damn you, you thick-headed fool!’” 

Laena’s excellent impression of her mother had me chuckling as well as Laenor guffawing. The ride back was spent with the two siblings making increasingly more ridiculous impressions of their parents. The horror of my earlier discovery seemed so far away but before I could let myself make plans for the future, I had to live through a meal with Harwin and Larys.

Before that, we had to show our faces at court. Viserys greeted Laena warmly and Laenor and I chatted with Lord Hayford and one of the Rosbys. Both Houses were Blacks through and through but it was always a good idea to reinforce that loyalty. In addition, Laenor had managed to arrange a sit down meeting with Lord Wendwater through his nephew by discussing timber shipments. Today would not be a total loss then.

Lord Wendwater was a hesitant Green. Given the complete lack of knowledge about where the young, impetuous Boros Baratheon would jump, he was right to be hesitant. The Stormlands bordered Lord Wendwater’s lands and would make a juicy target should the Stormlands declare for a different claimant. I had been hoping to start on the other side of the Crownlands in Cracklaw Point but those Lords rarely came to court. I spent the rest of the session tracking down and persuading the Black leaning Lord Celtigar to help me with the matter.

Laena left us late on so that we could prepare to meet the Strong’s. Laenor thought it important we coordinated in order to subtly reinforce the fact Harwin had no chance with me, just in case he was still harbouring any mistaken thoughts. Which meant I got to try on a whole bunch of dresses, much to my internal glee. The current court style was heavily influenced by the Reach, not one I could imitate for obvious reasons, so finding a fashionable solution to that dilemma was always fun.

I had adopted a Vale influenced wardrobe, for the most part. The long swishy dresses that accentuated the figure usually accompanied by an equally swishy mantle that could be made to evoke wings, useful for falcons and dragons. Whereas most of the Vale dresses were woollen, I favoured silks and satins in materials. I did not need the dresses to last, nor did I need them to keep me warm. I opted for black and teal colour scheme, evoking mine and Laenor’s House’s.

Laenor had little interest in fashion, like most Westerosi lords he liked to be seen as above it, but he trusted me when it came to saying it with clothes and figuring out what others were saying with their style of dress so I didn’t have to swat the back of his head too much as I ordered the servants to lay out his outfit.

It had been a good idea to start preparing early as it turned out, we’d barely gotten ourselves dressed when Larys and Harwin arrived.

Harwin was a gorgeous man. Tall, muscled and with a face that could melt any maiden’s heart and bearing that distinctive nose that would be as good as a smoking gun if I gave into the temptation, it really was not hard to see why Rhaenyra had risked everything to be with him. Larys, on the other hand, was everything his brother was not. He walked with a limp due to his twisted foot, his face could charitably be described as interesting when he smiled which was not a regular occurrence and he had peculiar, intense way of looking at you that gave you the impression he was trying to imagine you without clothes on.

Given a choice, I’d take a talk with Larys over Harwin any day. He was breathtakingly intelligent and whilst shy, when he did speak it was always worth paying attention to him. Harwin on the other hand was quite willing to blather out every single thought that entered his fool head and I can assure you, very little of his thoughts were worth they energy it took to have them.

As much as Larys was the complete opposite of a Westerosi lord, Harwin was the epitome of one.

“Sorry we’re early, Your Grace. It’s difficult to time things with limpy here.” The shove that accompanied the comment nearly sent Larys sprawling the but the smaller man recovered. Larys’ face did not move from it’s usual scowl but his eyes were full of hate. If Harwin wasn’t even making the effort to reign in his usual Westerosi dickishness tonight was not going to be fun.

“It’s not a problem, Ser Strong. Larys is a friend and I’m always willing to make accommodations for my friends.” I aimed a bright smile at the clubfoot but failed to coax one in return. I took his arm and guided him to the table, sitting him next to me if only to serve as a barrier against Harwin’s ongoing inane chatter.

If the start of the meal was awkward it only became more so as time went on. Harwin alternated between taking cheap shots at his brother, shamelessly flirting with me, drinking enough wine to kill a horse and implying that Laenor was gay or possibly a woman in disguise. Some of his insults were a bit indistinct. Larys kept quiet, only speaking to correct his brother’s more outrageous claims and to ask how Ser Joffrey had recovered from the accident at my wedding tourney. He seemed happy to learn that Joffrey was up and about, finding ways to make himself useful. Both I and Laenor were wondering when Larys had even befriended Joffrey. I resolved to ask him about it next time I saw him.

Finally, as we finished up dessert, I broached the topic I had invited them for.

“I must admit I had an alternative motive for inviting you tonight,” I said, as the servants cleared the table. Harwin perked up like a dog at the sound of the treat packet being opened but Larys merely nodded as if he’d completely expected this.

“Do you require our support in some kind scheme?” asked Harwin, eagerly. I forced myself not to grimace. If I ever wanted to sheme, it’d be Larys I’d choose. How Harwin had not given the game away himself in the original timeline was probably considered a minor miracle by some religions.

“No, nothing like that, Ser Strong.” Laenor butted in, hastily. “You are aware of course that until she was four my lady wife lived in the Tower of the Hand?” Harwin look puzzled as if that had never occurred to him before but Larys merely nodded for him to continue.

“As a child I was fond of exploring the tunnels in the Tower. I fear they are littered with old possessions of mine. I was wondering if you would allow me access so that I could reclaim them.”

“Tunnels? I was unaware of this,” Larys responded before Harwin could even open his mouth. 

“Regardless, I’d be happy to accompany to accompany you,” Harwin quickly said, cutting off anything else his brother could say. It was what I had expected but luckily Laenor had come up with several excuses to lure the older Strong brother into staying with him. Harwin had little argument and was forced to sit there like a big, dumb puppy that knew it had done something wrong but couldn’t quite figure out what as Larys limped his way out the door as I followed.


	9. Opening Moves -  Chapter 8

The Tower of the Hand was much changed since it had been Prince Baelon’s place of residence. Unsurprising, I suppose as it had seen two hands since. I only realised I stopped in the entrance way when Larys limped up behind me.

“Is everything well, Your Grace?” he asked quietly, interrupting my mind as it began recreating the Tower as it had been when I’d first awoken as Rhaenyra. 

“Apologies, Larys. It has changed so much.” He nodded but didn’t elaborate further. We made our way inside. Lyonel’s household didn’t seem to be in a rush to bother us but I’d bet they’d be eager to report my presence in the tower to their master the moment they could.

I didn’t bother making a show about remembering the entrance location. If it had been Harwin it would have worked but behaving like a ditzy woman around Larys was pointless. He’d just see through it and even if he didn’t, he wasn’t given to the pandering most men were all to willing to engage in around me.

The tunnels were as dusty and gloomy as I remembered. My little collection had been stored in an alcove further in and I was proud that it only took one or two wrong turns before I located the stash. Larys’ head seemed to be on a swivel, his eyes wide as he took in the surprisingly extensive tunnel system. All I can say is Maegor definitely didn’t trust his Hands. There wasn’t a single room in the Tower you couldn’t eavesdrop on from the tunnels.

The book was there, covered in grime and dust but other than that it looked undamaged. Well, book was an exaggeration really, it was a loose collection of paper I was telling everyone was copied from a book. It was the other items of the stash that took me completely of guard though. Gently, as if it might collapse at the touch, I lifted up the blue fabric of the blanket. As I realised just what it was, emotion I wasn’t prepared for punched me in the gut.

I suppose this was just going to be one of those days and so I resigned myself to the storm of regret.

“I had forgotten this was here. I thought it lost,” I choked and then realised I was crying. Behind me, Larys shifted uncomfortably. I turned the blanket over, obscured by dust but right where I remembered, the silver falcon and moon of the Arryn’s.

Oh, I had not wanted to love Aemma Arryn. The Rhaenyra in me had forced me to but I hadn’t wanted to. The day she’d announced her pregnancy had been awful, I’d wept so much because I’d known. Aemma had assured me that a new child would not make her love me any less and I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell her what was coming. She’d ben desperate for a boy. Runciter had given the okay to get pregnant again but she’d died. Died because Viserys had married her when she’d been eleven and by thirteen she’d already given birth. A brother that had died before his first name day. It had ruined her health, ruined her body.

Viserys should have known. Runciter should have known. They still kept pushing, for them a male heir was more important than a living wife. I’d come along and the effort alone had nearly killed her. She’d been fifteen and bed bound for months afterwards. Viserys hadn’t given up. He’d kept pushing and only miscarriages had followed. Until the babe she carried hadn’t died in the womb like the rest. Until the birth killed her. What had Viserys been thinking!?

I knew the answer to that. He hadn’t. Stupid, stupid bastard!

Seven month’s wasn’t enough to say goodbye to your Mother!

Larys was awkwardly patting me on the back and I realised I was sobbing. I must have been doing it for some time if Larys had been moved enough to try his own brand of comforting. I dashed the tears from my eyes and gathered everything for the pages to a cracked pitcher.

“My apologies, Larys. Old memories.” I hated how thick my voice sounded. 

“I quite understand. My own mother died in the child bed.” His voice was quiet. “Do you fear it?”

The question took me by surprise. It was considered a woman’s duty to marry and birth heirs above anything else. To ask a woman if she feared the child bed was like asking a man if he feared battle. Fighting words to the Westerosi.

Oh but I did fear child birth. Men would not understand and the only older female figure in my life was Alicent. I feared the child bed so badly that when I thought of it, in the dead of night, I was in danger of sending myself into spirals of panic. Breath coming short, head spinning - all for nothing because no matter how I twisted and turned I simply could not get away with not having children.

“I would be a fool not too. Both my grandmothers died in childbirth, my mother died in childbirth.” My voice was wavering at the thought of it. “But I will do my duty when the time comes as they did before me.”

“I have no doubt you will, Your Grace. If I may offer some advice though? Most Maesters do not study childbirth overly much. Make sure yours is prepared.”

I didn’t have time to delve into that comment because we emerged from the hatch to find Lord Strong and Viserys waiting for us. It wasn’t the two most powerful in the Seven Kingdoms that set my stomach rolling though, it was the man that flanked them. Ser Criston Cole. I suppose I couldn’t avoid him forever, he was still the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 

Someone up there really hates me though. This hasn’t been the worst day I’ve had in Westeros but by Gods, it’s definitely in the running.

Lord Strong studied me for a moment and then barked out an order for something clean myself with. I was ditched, covered in grime and dust with clear tear tracks on my face. I must have looked a state.

“You went into the tunnels unguarded,” said the King. I examined him, trying to get an idea of which mood he was in tonight. He wasn’t angry, not truly, he seemed more annoyed. Unfortunately for him, I’d been reminded of his shortcomings recently so I was definitely not going to roll over and accept being reprimanded by him for something he had no right to stick his nose into.

“It was hardly a risk. None of the tunnels lead outside the Keep and it was important,” I sneered back. I shouldn’t provoke him but I was tired. Today had been far too much and my emotions had been stretched to the breaking point. He scowled at me before focusing on the bundle I held.

“It’s the blanket Mother gave me,” I answered before he could query it. At my answer, the irritation left him and instead he smiled indulgently.

“Ah. It makes more sense now. You want it for your own babe?” he said as a maid bustled in with the water. I hadn’t even remembered it was there but now that I thought about it, it was a nice idea. I nodded as I used the water to clean myself up.

“Well, I can’t argue with that. Does this mean you are pregnant?” Ser Criston stiffened at his words. Oh great, don’t ask how I’m doing ruling Dragonstone or whether I have opinions on roads. Those things aren’t important to being Queen, it’s all about how many babies you can shoot out and whether they have the correct hair colour. I will be Queen, not Laenor’s broodmare!

Whoops, dial it back and answer the man.

“No, Father. I intend to wait for a year or two,” I told him. He frowned, anger evident on his features.

“It is your duty-”

“I understand my duty well, Father, but might I remind you of how your own mother died? My mother? Her mother? Even Queen Alysanne lost babes!” I snapped. He took a deep breath to retort but I held up a hand. “I am exhausted and wish to return to my rooms,” 

That really wasn’t a lie but I doubt Laenor would let me sleep before we’d flicked through the pages together.

“Of course, Daughter. Ser Criston, please escort the Princess back her rooms.” Ouch, okay, I had that coming. Yelling at a King was not cool and all that but you really have to rub it in, Viserys? 

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was silent as we made out way back. From the way his jaw was clenched, he was angry. No doubt Alicent would receive a report of tonights events. I nearly crashed into him when he stopped.

“Larys Strong?” he asked, finally. 

“What are you talking about?” I asked. He spun around to face me.

“You’ll fuck Larys Strong but you will not have me?” he hissed. His hands were flexing around the hilt of his sword. I did not like where this was going. “When Prince Daemon nearly killed you, I defended you. I fought for you! You would take that disgusting boy-lover and the fucking clubfoot over me!?”

“You defended me, yes. You did your duty as a Kingsguard. Care to remember what else to oath of the Kingsguard commands? As for Larys, I did not fuck him. You know I did not. I am loyal to my husband. To Laenor Velaryon. Not to Daemon Targaryen. Not to Harwin or Larys Strong. And certainly not to you. And if you insult my husband in such a manner again, I will have you killed.” The arctic tone of my voice caused him to stiffen, his hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, his face turn to a mottled white of pure fury.

“Whore!” he hissed.

“If I am whore, Criston, what does it say about you that I will not have you?”

I was saved from his ire and rage by Harwin and one of the Cargyll twins rounding the corner and talking loudly. No doubt they saw my furious expression and Criston pulling back from me like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. The two newcomers paused.

“Ser Cargyll, Harwin. Returning to the Tower of the Hand?” I asked. Harwin was quick to tell me that his father had dispatched Ser Cargyll to fetch him but the knight in question was keeping a cool eye on Ser Criston. No doubt Viserys would receive the report we had argued and promptly dismiss it like every report of Criston’s behaviour in regards to me and Alicent.

“Thank you for escorting me this far, Ser Cole.” I slipped by him before he could insist on walking me the entire way. “Good night, Ser Erryk, Ser Harwin.”

Laenor was still in my rooms when I returned, pacing up and down in some amount of agitation.

“Oh, you’re okay! The King is apparently in a fine temper to learn you’ve been messing with the Strong’s.” I put my bundle down on the table we had eaten on not so long ago.

“I set him straight,” I replied, negelecting to mention our spat. Gods, what the hell went off in that man’s head? To name his daughter heir but then screw her over in every other conceivable way? If you hate me, why make me heir? If you want me dead, why not just have me killed?

My head span and I grimaced. I couldn’t take any more of this yo-yo’ing. If everyday in Kings Landing was this exciting I’m going to give serious thought to moving to Ibb or something.

“You told him about the book?” Laenor asked, eyes wide. I shook my head and unfolded the blanket, grimacing at the state it was in. Laenor moved over, quickly collecting the pages before stopping to give a puzzled look at the rest of the items.

“Is that the wooden sword you stole from me at the Great Council?” he sounded dumbfounded, even as I smiled.

“You lost it in a bet,” I replied and he huffed before chuckling himself. “The blanket belonged to my mother and her mother before her. I intend to get it restored and give it to our child.”

A reassuring hand rubbed between my shoulder blades and he didn’t even tense up this time. Laenor put the pages aside. Apart from his sword, the pages and the blanket itself nothing really had any sentimental value. One of the maids was summoned to take the blanket away for cleaning and Laenor quickly hid his old toy from it’s ‘original thief’, he’d declared it his own ‘heirloom’. Then it was time to get to business.

We split the pages and read through them. I’d managed to get the agriculture ones, the ones that described selective breeding, crop rotation, farming machinery and food preservation. I’d also managed to get half of the notes on distillation. It was clear from my confused rambling I hadn’t really ‘gotten’ the concept of farming. For example, I’d made mention of a plough but there were no descriptions on how it would help, it’s purpose or even how it differed from normal farming techniques. 

I dutifully wrote down a summary from what I could understand and glanced at Laenor. He was rigid in his seat, eyes flickering back and forth with excitement written large on his face.

That… probably wasn’t good.

“Rhaenyra! Look at this! If it’s right this could change everything.” He slid a page yellowed with time across to me and I picked it up. I gotten halfway through talking about mould when I realised what this entailed. Penicillin. I glanced back at Laenor who looked as if he was barely stopping himself from bouncing in his chair. Would Penicillin even work? Gun powder had not. If it did the possibilities were endless but the question was whether the spore even existed in Westeros.

“A medicine that can treat a massive range of illnesses. A near cure all,” he squeaked. “And look here. A section on birthing!”

Another paper was slid across. In a past life, my sister had been a midwife. For all that the concept of birth terrified me, I’d still been eager to listen to the stories told. Here’s a fun fact about midwifery, forceps are really, really useful for preventing unnecessary deaths in child birth. In our world they’d been invented by this one guy who’d kept them a secret, going so far as to blindfold mothers during birth so no one would find out his trick. And then his family had done the same thing for the next 150 years.

I suddenly wanted to throw up. Could this have saved my mother’s life? As if reading my thoughts, Laenor laid a hand on mine.

“You were a child. Even if you had shown Runciter, he wouldn’t have listened,” he said kindly, before pulling free another page. “Look at this one! A simple device for amplifying sound. Simple! Yet not one Maester has ever thought to use something like this.”

Numb, I left him to his discovery's and summoned a maid to help me prepare for bed. I fell asleep soon after to Laenor’s exclamations of excitement and frantic scribbling from the other room.


	10. Opening Moves -  Chapter 9

When I awoke and staggered out of bed regretting all my life choices, Laenor was still in the same place he’d been the night before, paper littering the table and floor around him. He waved me over and I collapsed into a chair opposite him. Mornings were hard. A maid hurried over and presented me with a cup of juice and some fruit, one of mine that arrived yesterday. I thanked her before turning my attention back to my husband, who was sorting the paper explosion into some kind of order.

“I’ve managed to create a system in which the papers are filed into general groups. A few of the big ones are Agriculture, Medicine and oddly enough Glass. Whoever wrote this really, really had a high opinion of glass,” he told me. Sue me, it’s super useful for everything and it’s a travesty we all just accept Myr makes the best glass. “From there I’ve ordered them into how much detail the text goes into producing the ‘technology’. I think we can start work on the Agricultural technologies on Dragonstone and Driftmark this year even.”

“You wish to start on Dragonstone and Driftmark? Why not the Crownlands? We need to start gathering and strengthening allies as soon as possible,” I asked, ignoring the slightly wild look in his eyes. He’d definitely not slept. His doublet was creased, his eyes dark and his hair an unbound mess. I resisted the urge to comb my hands through it, he wouldn’t appreciate it. He got defensive when it came to his hair.

“Have you ever worked with farmers?” I shook my head. My duties at Dragonstone mostly bought me into contact with the small time merchants in the port. “Well, they’re stubborn. Very stubborn. Not they they don’t have good reason, if they all try something new and they all fail then they do not eat and neither does anyone else.”

“The section on farming machinery is very vague and we’ll probably require the help of the Wisdom’s producing anything from it but the idea of actively breeding plants and animals for traits? We do that already but just not on the scale the book describes in necessary for fast change. The field system suggested, although I admit I’ve never heard of Norfolk, could be implemented across the islands within a year. Two at most. It’s underlying theory could spawn more technology the writer of this book couldn’t dream of!”

“And once we prove it works, we’ll be hip deep in Lord’s wanting to know how we did it.” I said slowly, unable to stop the cat-like smile of satisfaction growing across my face. He nodded along, eye bright now that I’d finally ‘gotten it’. I eyed his other stacks and had an idea.

“Laenor, have you looked anymore into the section on birthing?” I asked. He nodded and tapped a stack of pages, I recognised some of the terms. Had he seriously copied everything? I scooped a few of the pages up and found that yes, he had copied the entire thing by hand. He’d even tried producing sketches of the things I’d described. Some of them were remarkably close and some… well, they could use work.

“Larys said yesterday that his mother died in childbirth.” I said slowly. “Have you any relatives who…”

“Well, Father hardly likes to tell everyone but my birth ended Mother’s chances of another child. She struggled with Laena as well.” It was an awkward subject. Septons and Septas liked to wax lyrical about the miracle of birth and how the birthing bed was a woman’s ultimate duty but no one liked to acknowledge how dangerous it was, how often women died or lost their children.

“Larys said that most Maesters do not overly study child birth.” Laenor snorted in response.

“Maesters study everything,” he replied but my brain was spinning now. Taking what I knew of Westeros and of the Maesters and of how nearly every family in every generation had a tale of someone dying needlessly and comparing with vague memories of a sister who’d studied for years to be a midwife, who’d still not been allowed to do solo births until she had assisted others and had proven experience. Unbidden, my mind drifted to the doddering Runciter and the sneering Mellos and even my own Gerardys.

In truth, I had never been fond of the Maesters. Runciter had merely turned that dislike into a hardened idea to do something something about them in the distant future.

I thought about Westeros’ idea of midwives. Midwives were a tradition of the smallfolk and were usually older women who’d gotten the role through experience than study. It was sort of assumed anyone who was anyone had a Maester. If you were having to consult midwives and healers then you were as good as saying you didn’t have the money or prestige for one of Westeros’ knights of the mind. 

“That’s right. They do. How could any man truly know a subject if he spends half a year studying at best?” I asked, slowly. After all, doctors studied for years and still had to jump through hoops to practise. Was this why so many died? Not malice or some conspiracy but simple mistakes made by men who’d never assisted in birth before. Afterall, the Maesters served a castle. They didn’t deliver every pregnant woman in a ten mile radius. Laenor was looking at me strangely.

“Think about it. How many times do you think Maester Gerardys has assisted in a birth? And he has several silver links.” Now Laenor looked thoughtful, probably because he knew the answer was zero.

“You believe that the inexperience of the Maesters is what kills their patients?” He asked slowly. I nodded eagerly.

“Yes! We have access to a set of ideas that could revolutionise medicine. We could create an entirely new set of healers, ones who study only the art of healing and may even specialise further into diseases or birthing.” Laenor stroked his chin but his mouth was twisted, as if he were wrestling with his thoughts and losing.

“The Maesters have always been Westeros’ healers. They have access to knowledge built up over centuries. Even if what is contained in the book is enough to challenge their supremacy, we’d need a massive investment to do so,” he pointed out, tone doubtful. Ah, pushback. I’ve presented something new too fast and it’s straining his Westerosi worldview. After all better farming is fine but knocking out a major pillar of the Maesters power? Questioning a system that’s been in use for thousands of years?

“Please, Laenor, any of this technology is unlikely to make the Maesters happy. Take the press for example? They make their money off of controlling access to books, deciding which books are copied and which are not. We could print any book a hundred times over for a fraction of the cost and in a fraction of the time.”

His face screwed up, a lifetime of socialisation telling him that this would not work.

“It’s much too far, much too fast. We’re trying to win you a throne, not take Westeros apart and put it back together again in a new order,” he pointed out finally. Damn him, he had a point. All but declaring war on the Maesters would likely scare a lot lords on principle alone. To say nothing of whose ears the Maesters themselves would start whispering in.

“For now we can focus on the farming and getting the Wisdoms to Dragonstone, but Laenor, I want to train midwives as well. That is not negotiable.” Laenor studied me for a few moments after that announcement. I finished the last of the fruit, ignoring his silent condemnation. I was not going to risk dying in a childbirth any more than I needed too and if we could prove they worked, that they were better than Maesters? Well, Westerosi lords would clammer for them and we’d be the only provider. It would be the first crack in their dominance over Westeros and one I could use to push my own doctors.

“Very well. I’ll add it to the instructions I send to Dragonstone.” I watched as he pulled a sheet free and jotted down a few lines. I drank my juice and listened to the sound of his scribbling, allowing my eyes to drift closed.

“I’m sending Laena to Dragonstone with all of this. She should be able to make a round trip in a day if she pushes Vhagar a little. Then I’m going to see Wisdom Jerrett so he can start getting a selection of Alchemists to Dragonstone,” He told me, rising from his seat.

“Perhaps you should change first?” I asked, nodding at his less than appropriate attire. He pulled a face. “You know certain people will have a field day if they see you sprinting around the city looking like that.” 

“You’re right. It’s just… Rhaenyra, I have been trained to take the lordship of an island. My knowledge is trade, as shameful as most will find that, and even I can see that there isn’t a single technology in here that won’t improve lives across all of Westeros.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair.

I let him leave with the promise he’d at least bathe before speaking with Wisdom Jerrett and not give away too much of the technology contained within it’s pages until the Guild was under our thumb and indebted to us. I sipped the last of my juice and leant back in my chair. Was I making a mistake? 

Even if I was wrong, it was too late now. Laenor had seen the pages. He knew that they were invaluable and they were, in more ways the monetary value. Used correctly they would secure Targaryen and Velaryon dominance for centuries to come. There would be no gradual decline as the family desperately tried to command unruly vassals, no civil wars that out opponents had any hope to win, no way to remove an unjust king…

Ah. Considering the general quality of Targaryen rulers, that’s going to be a problem.

On that horrifying thought I forced myself to rise, calling my maids to me. I had errands to run before a meeting with Lord Wendwater and then a meeting with Lord Celtigar. I would need to impress both if my work to sway the Crownlands was to make a good start. I couldn’t rely on just the Crownlands though. So after I had changed and bathed, I sat down and wrote to my cousin.

I had last seen Jeyne at my wedding. She’d seemed cheerful and friendly enough, at least when the swarms of potential suitors weren’t present, but I hadn’t been thinking politically then. I’d had visions of professional soldiers armed with muskets dancing before my eyes. I hadn’t bothered playing politics because I hadn’t thought I needed too. In retrospect, even had the Black Powder been viable, that had been a mistake.

So I was sure to remain warm but diplomatic, without assuming to much about how much leeway our shared blood would buy me. I enquired about her health, how the Vale was, whether she had her eye on any suitors and finally, whether she’d allow me to visit in the near future. The letter was too long and heavy to send by raven so I paid for a courier to get it to Jeyne post-haste which gave me another idea. If I was going to damage the Maesters as healers and archivists, why not damage their hold on communications too?

The days turned into weeks as Laenor and I charmed and politicked our way through court. I acquired three ladies-in-waiting, one from House Stokeworth and the two Strong girls. The last two were odd in a way, I understood Lyonel disdained mine and Alicent’s games, preferring to focus on the practical sides of ruling a kingdom. As far as I understood, sending his daughters to me was less a show of support and more a way of saying that should my father die suddenly he would act in accordance with his wishes.

Gods, I hope I can stop this guy from burning to death. Having Otto as Hand when Viserys died would suck.

Marya Stokeworth was a plump but pretty girl who fussed over everyone. Shortly after she’d entered my service I’d been enacting my plan to win over King’s Landing by visiting a succession of orphanages and I think it had awoken something in her because she’d been organising sewing rings and charity parties and enquiring as too whether I could help with funding. She seemed so earnest that I couldn’t believe it was an act. No one was that good at acting. 

And since she was doing it in my name… well, Alicent wasn’t too popular amongst the occupants of the city anymore.

The two Strong girls were called Alys and Sera. Twins, they took more after Harwin than Larys physically. Both were pretty with the Strong nose, their father’s height and blue eyes although thankfully, they didn’t take after their older brother in attitude or intelligence. They weren’t quite Larys levels of smart but they were quick-witted at least and knew their manners. I suspected they were less thrilled by Marya’s enforced sewing circles but they went along with it well enough, preferring to spend their time sewing by sharing the sort of inside jokes that only twins had.

Laenor acquired a squire from House Rosby named Alton who he swore was a good lad at heart but had me half-convinced he had nothing resembling a personality in the few brief times I’d met him. 

With both of us turning the charms on the court, the Black faction went from strength to strength. 

The Wisdoms, under the watchful eye of Jerrett, left on a ship bearing my colours two weeks after Laenor’s meeting with them. I was given to understand that the competition for a place within the new campus had been fierce. The idea of these ‘lost’ technologies had sent the Guild into a frenzy. Jerrett had still been trying to insist the Guild’s true purpose was magic even as his co-workers fought over glass production techniques and knowledge of the nitrogen cycle.

Viserys remained as spineless as ever, as predicted Ser Cargyll’s report about Criston’s behaviour did nothing after Alicent had stepped in on his behalf. I did manage to spend time with Helaena after I all but petitioned Viserys in open court as Alicent had been sibling hoarding. 

I took the girl to the Dragonpit for a ride on Syrax which she’d talked about non-stop for three days. It was nice to be the big sister to a sibling that thought the world of you. Aegon, annoyingly, still avoided me like I had the plague when he could and when he couldn’t his interactions were icy, hostile but never outright rude. My one attempt to win Aemond over ended when he hit me in the shin with his wooden sword. It left a spectacular bruise and I was quite put out about it.

Daeron remained pink, round and loud.

As I approached the month mark, a cutter from Gulltown bearing Grafton colours arrived with a letter bearing the Arryn seal. Apparently, it would be impossible for me to meet with Jeyne right now as the Eyrie had been sealed due to an outbreak of illness suspected to, from the way the letter writer described it, super plague. It had been signed by a Ser Arnold Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon.

Yeah, I was calling bullshit on that one.


	11. Interlude - Laenor

“My wife is an enigma,”

Laena turned to him in surprise. They’d taken Seasmoke and Vhagar to a deserted beach North of King’s Landing and had been sitting watching the waves in silence for some time. Gods, he could see why his Father hated King’s Landing.

“I thought you liked her?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. When he’d been young, he’d thought that he’d marry Laena. It hadn’t been hard to imagine, she was his best friend. She already knew everything, he couldn’t shame himself in front of her. She would have been happy with a husband that didn’t try and prevent her from flying.

“I do. She just doesn’t make sense,” he finally replied. His sister huffed before scooping a rock from the sand and sending it flying into the waves. Laena did not see Rhaenyra like he did. 

She had been just four when they’d first met. Prince Baelon had died and Mother had told him that she was going to make him a king. He hadn’t wanted to be a king, he’d wanted to fly Seasmoke and explore the world. He’d trailed about the Red Keep in misery until a small girl had ambushed him. Two years his junior and already so much more worldly-wise than him. They explored the tunnels together and afterwards his Mother had scolded him for doing so but he hadn’t cared.

Mother hadn’t made him king or even an heir to one. He hadn’t been allowed back to court and it was a decade before he saw her again. She’d flown to Driftmark atop Syrax and begged for Lady Rhaenys to protect her. She offered to marry him but Mother had been firm. She would not do anything to invite Viserys’ wrath down on them. Rhaenyra had stayed for a two weeks before her Father summoned her back.

She’d changed so much and in some ways not at all. She was still far more wordly-wise than he could dream of being with a smile that made it seem like she knew some kind of great secret no one else did. He’d thought he’d figured her out then. Why she’d been so afraid of Daemon? Why she’d sought him out as ‘safe’? He’d seen the way her eyes had moved to track his sister as she’d danced with his Father’s bannermen and captains.

When they’d been betrothed he’d assumed she’d find her own lover amongst her ladies and he’d have Joffrey and at some point she’d find someone suitable to bear their heirs. He’d told her as much as they’d sat on the bed after the wedding but she’d rebuked him. She’d told him they could not risk bastards, not with the Queen waiting for any slip up, not with Corlys watching them so closely.

He’d panicked and tipped off his Father by spending too much time at Driftmark. He’d been too heartsick at losing Joffrey and too terrified of the shame that would accompany Rhaenyra’s realisation that he couldn’t produce an heir with her. Father had made his play and he’d found his understanding of his wife thrown again. He’d always thought she was epitome of a princess. That she practised alchemy and had brought no ladies, no lords and no support to Dragonstone had shocked him.

Father had said that her obsession with whatever she was making would destroy her chances at the thone and had told Laenor he would ensure the whole alchemy business was finished with. That he would take a firm hand with the Blacks so that he could protect the rights of his unborn grandchildren. Mother had been little help, she had been weary of Father’s methods but she’d agreed Rhaenyra needed to be reigned in.

She’d told him to bed her and bed her well. That she’d fall in line once she was married woman in truth. He’d asked his Mother if she’d fallen in line with his Father after being bedded and she’d sent him to his room like an errant child and not the man of twenty that he was. She thought that any child of King Viserys was soft, like he was.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Laenor, I love the girl but she needs someone strong in her life,” his mother had told him. How wrong they were, how little they understood. 

At least he knew just how little he knew about her.

He’d thought her attracted to women but after watching her for the past few months he’d begun noticing something odd. Her eyes flickered to women as if she couldn’t help herself but sometimes, if she wasn’t aware she was being watched, her mask would slip and she would look disappointed. As if she had been expecting something from them that hadn’t been delivered.

Men, himself included, had also provided a similarly puzzling reaction. When she allowed herself to look at them he could see the lust in her face and afterwards, she always looked vaguely unsettled. He’d prodded Joffrey into revealing that she had taken no lover in the six months they’d been apart. No man or woman had graced her bed, only books on such a wide range of subjects that many joked that she wished to become the first female Maester as well as first Queen.

And then there was The Book.

She was lying to him about it being a copy of a copy of a copy. She was lying about it being a relic from her childhood. He did not know why but he knew his wife had created these things. The manner of speech the author employed was too much like the manner of speech she herself used when she slipped. He’d heard too many of the strange words and phrases that peppered the text from his wife before the pages had come to light to believe that she’d last read it during her childhood.

Why would she not tell him she had written it?

“Oh! Speak of her and she will come!” came his sister’s voice, interrupting his musings. He followed her gaze to the rapidly approaching form of Syrax. They hauled themselves up from the sand and did their best to brush themselves clear as Rhaenyra steered her mount in for landing. He knew something was wrong from the way she strode over the sand towards them.

“Uh oh, this doesn’t look good. Have you angered her brother?” mumbled Laena. He didn’t have time to reply as Rhaenyra reached them a moment later and waved an envelope bearing the Arryn seal at them. Laena took it as his wife caught her breath, he watched as she read through it and paled.

“There is some sort of plague in the Vale. The Eyrie has been sealed,” his sister stated, handing him the letter. He felt his heart sink. Rhaenyra had been so sure her cousin was in their corner. He had no idea who the heir to the Vale of Arryn was but he suspected they’d drive a much harder bargain for support than Rhaenyra’s own flesh and blood.

“It’s a lie! There is no plague.” It was stated with such anger and finality. Baffled, he risked a glance at his sister only see she’d done the same thing. 

“Look at the signature on the letter,” she growled. He did so. Ser Arnold Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. “He is Jeyne’s closest male relative. If women are excluded from inheritance then he is the man who inherits. The damn thing came on a ship in Grafton colours.”

“You believe he’s lying. That this is a plot against Lady Jeyne?” he asked. Rhaenyra nodded, eyes bright with fury. She was so certain. Why was she so certain? What did she know?

“If you’re wrong, you risk allowing the Vale to be decimated by plague,” his sister pointed out. He watched his wife’s jaw clench and the fingers on her right hand flex. An old injury, a parting gift from the Uncle that had terrified her so. What had Daemon done that she ran from him when she wouldn’t even bow in the face of plague?

“I am not wrong. There is no plague in the Vale, I would know if there was.” He took a deep breath and made a decision.

“Laena, could you stay here and reassure the Black lords in our absence. It seems Rhaenyra and I will be travelling to the Vale to discover the truth of it.”


	12. The Vale - Chapter 10

Plague in the Vale, my ass. I know there’s no plague in the Vale just like I know that Ser Arnold is a dirty lying liar whose probably got Jeyne locked up somewhere whilst he brings the Vale lords to his side. 

Maybe I was overreacting, history tells me he probably won’t succeed but hopefully flying to Jeyne’s aid would ingratiate me much further than words on paper. There was also the more selfish idea of that if, somehow, I had butterflied him into succeeding then he would never support me. If he did, he made his own claim on the Vale invalid.

I wanted to push the dragons hard but Laenor had counselled caution. He’d told me that if we pushed the dragons too hard they’d be in no condition to fight once we did reach the Vale. If I was right about Ser Arnold then we couldn’t take that risk. We had no clue how he was maintaining control currently, Laenor told me, he could have fooled the Vale lords like he’d try to fool me or be perched in the Gates of the Moon with a massive army. I’d accepted, grudgingly. This meant that instead of blurring past the fields of the Crownlands and the Riverlands rolled by at a much more sedate pace. 

The trip took four days at the almost agonisingly slow pace Laenor had set. We’d stopped the night at Duskendale, Maidenpool and the Saltpans. Luckily, the Lords of those towns had understood that we were in a hurry and could not afford to engage in the lavish feasts that hosts were expected to throw when royalty came calling. Or maybe they were simply relieved we weren’t insisting on slowly bankrupting them with our presence.

We’d have to come back later and make a show of it. I could not afford to offend or alienate House Darklyn, House Mooton and House Cox. Or rather I could but that thinking was likely to lead to a disaster sooner or later, being too close the the original Rhaenyra’s ‘I am heir, bow to me’ attitude that had lost her the Dance. I found it hard to sleep as we made our way across Westeros, too strung out on thoughts of somehow butterflying Jeyne’s hold on the Vale away.

We reached the Bloody Gate itself in the late evening and made the decision to bypass it entirely, to fly onward to the Gates of the Moon. The dragons would cover the distance with ease and I couldn’t face another night of wondering if I’d messed up somehow. Had the original Rhaenyra shown more support? Had I failed to gain a supporter in the Vale that backed Jayne? 

My thoughts swirled like that as we soared through the air. Then they ceased as I beheld the Eyrie for the first time.

I found myself forced to gape at the seat of House Arryn, struck dumb by the sheer impossibility of it. Seven white towers atop a colossal mountain, surrounded by more mountains on either side and long winding road as the only approach. Stylish, impossible to seige and all but practically screamed ‘I rule, you don’t now grovel’ to any who beheld it. It made the Red Keep look like some newly made Knight’s motte-and-bailey by comparison.

No wonder cousin Jeyne had been so proud of it.

After Laenor and I finished marvelling over the local architecture we took the dragons in for landing at the Gates of the Moon, ensuring we came down in front of the castle. Inside we would be surrounded at least this way, we wouldn’t have men at our backs. Dragons were vulnerable when they were on the ground in a way they simply were not in the air. Hardened scales that flexed when they breathed exposed the soft flesh beneath, impossible to hit whilst the flew but a valid target for spears and swords when forced to land.

The Gates of the Moon did not quite match the Eyrie in beauty but they were still worthy of note. Beautiful but practical, no army was getting past it without the castle’s express permission. The first way stop for any visitor to the Eyrie and the first line of defence if the Eyrie ever came under attack. It also served as the seat of House Arryn during the winter which is why the title of Keeper was non-hereditary and normally given to someone within the Arryn family. Someone who could be trusted to remain loyal.

We were greeted by knights in the Arryn livery, they streamed from the open portcullis and formed a loose semi-circle around our mounts and my suspicions regarding the nature of the ‘plague’ were only reinforced by their nervous demeanour, the way they weren’t sure if they would soon need to draw weapons. I let Laenor do the talking as my eyes searched the battlements. More men in Arryn livery dotted it but I spotted the odd flash of Grafton colours.

“Ho there, I am Ser Laenor Velaryon, with me is Her Grace Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Irone Throne,” he called. There was flurry of activity and then a handsome older man that could only be Ser Arnold Arryn strode out, waving his men to stand down. He had the classic Arryn look both my Mother and Jeyne bore. The sandy blonde hair and blue eyes that denoted their prized Andal heritage. He was clean-shaven with shoulder length hair worn in a knot and for all that he’d arranged his features into a pleasant smile a life of court had taught me to spot the subtle signs of stress.

The darkened eyes showing a lack of sleep, the tense way he held his shoulders… this guy was on the edge.

“Your Grace! I am Ser Arnold Arryn, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon,” Not for much longer if you’ve done anything to my cousin. “I am happy to receive you and offer you guest right but I must warn you-”

“We are aware of the rumours of plague within the Vale. It was my hope to somehow ascertain if my cousin was well,” I called. In the dimming light, I could see the indecision writ clear on his face. He could not prevent me from flying up the mountain if I so wished but if he was lying about the plague, I would soon know. Therefore he needed me to get gone as soon as possible and I’d just made it clear that I thought his claims of illness were just that, claims.

The fact that neither of us had moved to dismount our dragons, the only creature currently able to completely nullify the advantage the men of the Vale took pride in must also factor in to his decisions. I risked a glance at the battlements once more. More Grafton men and considerably more ranged weaponry now. He was stalling but even he knew he could not get away with murdering a Targaryen Princess and her consort, if he were even capable of it.

“I could not in good conscience allow you to do that, Your Grace. It is my duty to contain the plague here if the whole of the Vale of Arryn is not to be ravaged by it.” I clenched my jaw at the word ‘allow’. He would allow me nothing!

“Tell me, Ser Arryn, how did the plague come to be in the Eyrie. I note a lot of Grafton men here, perhaps it came through Gulltown?” Laenor pointed out and I watched as Ser Arnold shifted, hand falling to his hilt as he licked his lips. Probably wondering if his men could bring us down before we melt his castle down around his ears. I didn’t pay attention to his response, I was watching the Grafton men. They were agitated. Clearly fighting two dragons hadn’t been on their to-do list this morning and they were close to breaking. Either one would take a pot shot at us and the rest would follow or they would run.

I couldn’t risk an arrow storm.

I shifted in my saddle, urging Syrax to turn her gaze to the battlements. If Ser Arryn noticed, he didn’t break from his long winded explanation about the nature of the ‘illness’, the one Laenor was pretending to be enraptured by. I felt her tense under me as she sensed the fight coming. I loosened the whip at my side and focused on the battlements again. Having a dragon actually looking at them was doing wonders for their sudden sense of mortality. 

Something just a little more direct then.

“Dracarys!” Syrax let forth a gout of flame that missed everyone standing on the battlements but ensured they all felt the heat of it. Panicked men threw down their weapons and fled, screaming. The knights that had met us outside the gate charged forward with shouts. I heard Laenor’s whip crack and Seasmoke lurched forward and incinerated half of them at once. 

The rest fled. Ser Arnold Arryn hadn’t moved, hadn’t even drawn his sword and I could see the fury on his face. He knew he was beaten, knew the Vale was beyond his reach now and he knew I made that happen. I flashed him a sweet smile that evolved into a smirk of satisfaction as the Gates of the Moon exploded into chaos behind him, his men giving calls of retreat with no thought to whether he still lived. Evidently as loyal to him as they’d been to Jeyne.

That would teach him to rely on traitors and men easily bought. They found it so easy to do so once again.

“Keep an eye on him, Laenor. I’m going to see if Lady Arryn is well,” I ordered in a tone that promised dire retribution if she were not for any reason.

Laenor nodded, not taking his eyes off the Arryn knight. The look on his face suggested he’d be quite happy for Ser Arnold to make his move if only for Seasmoke to have a chance at eating him. 

A light tap of the whip and Syrax took me upwards and over the wall. After the Gates of the Moon there were three more waycastles a would-be besieger would have to get around before assaulting the Eyrie proper.

Below me, the first waycastle, Stone, was silent and dark as the grave. Had the men of the garrison betrayed Jeyne or had they been killed when Ser Arnold had launched his coup? Syrax shifted underneath me and then snarled. I squinted at the mountain path but could make nothing out. Had she seen something? Dragons had good eyesight, even in the dark that had fallen around us. Actually, that was not strictly true. Dragons are terribly long-sighted. They could spot a rabbit racing through scrub land from the air but put that rabbit in front of them and they’d be snuffling around for it for a while.

Perhaps she’d heard something then? Another sense the dragon excelled at. Had she heard soldiers on the mountain perhaps? I was getting distracted, the adrenaline making it hard to focus on one thing for long.

In comparison to Stone, Snow was alive with activity. At the sight of Syrax, men scrambled into action. I couldn’t see precisely what they were doing but I could see fires winking out and get a general sense of frantic activity.

When I reached Sky, I didn’t need Syrax’s super hearing to hear the unusual response. The normal response to a dragon appearing the sky above your castle was fear and screaming, not the cheering of the men of the Sky garrison. I smiled to myself. They must be Jeyne’s men and nothing cheers the spirits like realising you had a dragon your side.

I swooped in low to more cheering before flying on the Eyrie proper. The fact that they had still been holding out suggested that Jeyne was still okay. Ser Arnold was her heir, technically, and if she’d died it would have given those men a legitimate reason to surrender lawfully. After all, fighting to defend a castle from the person who now owned it was not something anyone is Westeros would approve of.

The Eyrie had clearly not been built with dragons in mind. Syrax was just able to fit on the widest part of the approach to the main gate. I hopped off with less grace than I had hoped to convey and pulled my cloak tightly around my shoulders to ward against the chill. The moment I was fully away, Syrax took to the air once more and flew towards a smaller peak that the Eyrie overlooked.

I made my way to the gate. As I got closer I could make out shouts and activity from beyond it. Specks of light from torches flickered back and forth. By the time I’d actually reached them, they’d begun to swing open. More Arryn knights were there, flanking Jeyne. She was thinner than when I’d last seen her and her eyes spoke of too much missed sleep but she was smiling widely.

“Cousin! I sent you a letter but I fear it never made it through,” I called. She laughed although I could tell it was strained, more from surprise and relief than any true humour. I crossed the threshhold of the gate and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened slightly before relaxing and returning it.

“Thank you for coming, cousin, how do you like the Eyrie?” she chuckled.


	13. The Vale - Chapter 11

Things moved quickly after the siege was broken. At the sight of the dragon the besiegers had turned tail and fled, disorganised as they were it was unlikely they’d threaten the Eyrie again. The loyal Arryn men had been all to happy to chase in any case, just to make sure. Laenor personally bore Ser Arnold to the Eyrie where Jeyne had him locked in the Sky cells. His men were quick to start throwing blame around with most blaming the Graftons for the attempted coup.

As I stood beside Jeyne as she handed out judgement, I began to get an idea of what had occurred and how truly devious Ser Arnold had been. In his position of Keeper of the Gates of the Moon he’d begun subverting Jeyne’s guards and had been doing since the old Lord Royce had appointed him to the position a decade earlier.

He’d quietly sought aid from other houses in the Vale and had received it from a Grafton knight in return for the promise of a marriage to Ser Arnold’s children. This Grafton knight, Ser Roland, had apparently been responsible for providing most of the muscle Ser Arnold had been relying on.

Using Roland’s supposed mastery of Gulltown he’d brought in mercenaries under Lord Grafton’s nose and had hidden them within the Gates. Roland’s Grafton men had positioned themselves nearby and awaited the signal. He’d expected to announce his claim, march up the mountain and be admitted to the Eyrie through a show of force. To improve his odds he’d placed men inside the Eyrie with orders to demoralise the defenders and try their best to sabotage the defence. When the jaws of his trap closed, more men than expected stayed loyal to Jeyne and his march had floundered halfway up the mountain leaving him with no choice but to battle the rest of the way.

Even though his plan was, quite frankly, completely delusional it seemed he’d had some sense. His first victim had been Jeyne’s Maester, cutting her off from calling for aid. Other victims of his hidden men were older sergeants and men at arms who were in positions of command. Even though she couldn’t call for aid, he’d still been pushed for time. He’d claimed the Eyrie was suffering from sickness to cover his crime but the nobility of the Vale would investigate eventually. According to those of his men we’d captured, he’d been getting desperate. For good reason, as it turned out.

Three days after we had relieved the siege on the Eyrie, a small army of about two thousand under the command of Lord Denys Waynwood and Lord Gerold Redfort arrived and demanded that Ser Arnold Arryn turn over command of the Gates of the Moon to them or face siege.

“That honourless-!” Lord Redfort shouted as Jeyne summarised Arnold’s uprising and defeat. Next to him, his daughter looked ready to march to the Sky Cells herself and engage in some egregious violations of prisoner rights. ‘Dearest companion’ indeed.

Both Redforts had dark hair and dark eyes, although Lord Gerold’s was streaked with silver. He had short hair for a noble but made up for it with a long beard he evidently took a lot of pride in if the amount of grooming and braiding that went into it was any indication. Jessamyn Redfort was pretty enough although no real beauty by the standards of the realm, even if I felt a bit harsh in that judgement. I’d quickly learned she was quick-witted though and fun to speak with.

We were seated in Jeyne’s solar, sipping wine. Laenor had decided to take the opportunity to show everyone he could fight and had joined the loyal Arryn men to hunt for any lingering Grafton forces and hopefully head off the banditry that usually accompanied several thousand men finding themselves jobless and in possession of arms and armour. I’d tried to persuade him not to, to take Seasmoke, but he’d pointed out that the Lords of Westeros already muttered about his prowess with the sword. If we meant to put a stop to any rumours, he would need to prove his martial ability without his dragon backing him up.

He was right but I couldn’t get past visions of his pointless death in taking a needless risk. I’d gotten revenge by making a show of it as they’d departed. I’d presented him with my favour before ordering him, loudly, to come back to me unharmed before pulling him in for a kiss. According to Jeyne, her people found it sweet that we were so in love.

“Please, Lord Gerold. I am unharmed and he is in the Sky Cells. The men he hired fled in the face of my cousin’s arrival and will likely not stop fleeing until they reach the Narrow Sea,” said Jeyne soothingly. Lord Gerold didn’t reply but took a long drink of his wine. Jessamyn Redfort leant forward and placed a hand on Jeyne’s arm. Jeyne covered it with a hand of her own and gave her a small smile. Lord Denys cleared his throat and the attention of the room moved to him.

He was monstrously tall and half as wide across with long blond hair he wore in a braid and a clean-shaven jaw that looked as if he could kill a man with it. For all that he looked like a bruiser, he’d been among the first to figure out Ser Arnold’s scheme and had been the the one who’d recruited Lord Redfort into his rescue. He was a lot more intelligent than he looked and someone to be weary of.

“We, of course, thank Her Grace for her assistance but the fact remains that there are still Grafton men out there who struck against you. That includes Ser Roland and I know Gulltown well enough that he could not have done it without the support of Lord Humfrey,” he said.

“You wish for me to strike at the Graftons. You believe Ser Roland a patsy and Lord Humfrey the true mastermind,” Jeyne stated. 

“It makes sense,” I said. “Ser Arnold’s plan was equal parts brilliant and delusional. It speaks of two minds.”

“And I’ve met Ser Roland. He hasn’t the brains or the wits for this,” said Lord Denys pointed out. Jeyne placed her wine down and folded her hands beneath her chin.

“I can not punish Lord Humfrey with no proof as to whether he was involved. I do not have the support. The lords may tolerate me but they will not tolerate striking at one of their number without undeniable proof of wrongdoing,” she said, quietly.

“Nonsense! Those were Grafton men with Ser Arnold and mercenaries brought in via Gulltown. If Lord Humfrey did not know he is incompetent and if he did he is complicit. No lord would question you in this!” At Lord Gerold’s outburst, Jeyne leant back and massaged her temples before grimacing.

“Cousin, you have two dragons at your immediate disposal. You have two more that can be summoned within a week or two. You have the support of Lord Redfort and Lord Waynwood. If you don’t move now they will continue to ferment rebellion in the Vale,” I urged, seeing that she was wavering.

“Even if I did strike at Lord Grafton, what would you have me do? Cut his head off? His sons would be at the head of the next rebellion with half the Vale likely at their backs,” She snapped before sighing and closing her eyes. Lord Denys huffed in annoyance.

“Seize Gulltown,” I replied. Jayne’s eyes blinked open and she stared at me incredulously.

“Are you mad!? Even if your dragons swing the fight we could not take it without burning the town first! And if we do take it, burned or not, I could not hold it!” She cried. Every eye in the room was staring at me in surprise. I sighed. From what I could remember the Graftons remained a problem for the Arryns well into the canon timeline. Getting rid of them now could only strengthen Jeyne’s hold over the Vale. Selfishly, of course, it would also make trading with her easier when the time came to begin developing Dragonstone in earnest. 

“That… could work,” said Jessamyn Redfort slowly. Jeyne just shook her head as if she’d just noticed everyone around her had gone mad and she was still sane.

“Explain?” said her father.

“The Arryns of Gulltown. The Lannisters have the Lannisters of Lannisport, why not enoble the Arryns of Gulltown. Their legitimacy would come from Jeyne and they’d have an easier time of holding the city because they have history there and an existing rapport with the citizens.”

“And nobody is going to follow them if they did rebel because their line is bunch of coin counters,” added Lord Gerold, a large and nasty grin growing over his face. Then he stood and pulled his daughter into a crushing hug. I found myself blinking in surprise. That had gone down better than expected even if Jeyne was still looking at father and daughter as if she were waiting for someone to shout ‘fooled you!’.

“You are aware, of course, that if we intend to take the city without two dragons reducing it to cinders we will need the aid of Lady Royce,” Lord Denys pointed out. It was hard to tell who took this worse, myself or Jeyne.

I felt the blood drain from my face as I realised just who he meant by ‘Lady Royce’. Lady Rhea Royce, the current wife of Prince Daemon Targaryen. Opposite me, Jeyne’s face had gone an angry red and her jaw clenched. Did Jeyne not defend Rhea to Daemon? What had happened that would get this reaction from her? 

“No! No. I will not ask that… I will not!” She stood, hands clenched.

“Pardon but what is the problem with enlisting my lady aunt?” I asked, hoping the lords had been too interested in Jeyne’s outburst to note my reaction. Jeyne flung herself into the chair. Jessamyn sat next to her and leant close, murmuring words of reassurance that did little to soften the angry glare etched into Jeyne’s face.

“Lady Royce’s father was Jeyne’s regent during her minority,” explained Lord Gerold with a sigh. “He-”

“He seized power! He made me a prisoner in my own castle! He sent away my ladies! He tried to marry me to his son! He used my name to marry his daughter to a prince!” I blinked at Jeyne’s outburst. She was standing again and looking ready to attack someone, Jessamyn was pulling at her dress, trying to calm her. Lord Denys merely sighed.

“It is true that Lord Royce greatly overstepped the boundaries of what is considered appropriate as a regent. There were talks to have him replaced when he was killed alongside his sons,” said Lord Gerold as Jeyne was guided back into her seat.

“Lady Royce has proved to be a loyal vassal devoid of her father’s ambition. In fact, I would hazard a guess that she resents it as it was the cause of her rather unfortunate marriage. She is quite happy to stay at Runestone and rule,” supplied Lord Denys. He would know, I suppose. His lands bordered Lady Rhea’s so he likely saw her more than any other noble in the Vale, barring her vassals.

“Did she ride to my aid?” snapped Jeyne, irritably.

“Don’t be bone-headed, Jeyne. Lady Royce could have ridden to your defence on the back of a griffon and you would have found fault!” came Jessamyn’s equally waspish reply.

Oh Gods, these two are less subtle than Laenor. How are they getting away with it?

“Jeyne, if you allow the Graftons to get away with this others in the Vale will wonder what they can get away with. If they see you, Royce, Redfort and Waynwood united with royal backing, they’ll think twice about any future rebellion,” I pointed out.

Jeyne’s face twisted in fury.

“Fine,” she spat. “We will ride to Runestone and pick up more Redfort and Waynwood troops on the way. I will sanction the seizure of Gulltown if Lady Rhea will add her strength to ours. Only if she agrees to add her strength to ours.”

Apparently sensing that was the best they were going to get, we moved onto other topics. Lord Denys and Lord Gerold were obviously angling for a reward of some kind but apparently my arrival rendered their own rescue pointless so Jeyne was able to duck it a little. She agreed to take Jessamyn Redfort as a lady-in-waiting and I’d had to force myself not to cackle as she acted like it was some great honour and not a forgone conclusion. Also were Vale lords blind? Because Jeyne was giving the Redfort girl major heart eyes and Lord Denys and Lord Gerold seem to have just… not noticed.

Doing my part for my cousin, I agreed to take Falena Waynwood with me back to the capital to join my growing pool of ladies-in-waiting. Lord Denys assured me she wasn’t the type to easily frighten and could be trusted amongst the various factions at court but I resolved to ensure that for myself before I let her in on any secrets. Although, to be fair, all of my new ladies-in-waiting were untested. Their fathers may be Blacks but history was littered with children that did not wish to follow their parents plans for them.

More work for Joffrey, I suppose.


	14. The Vale - Chapter 12

If I’d been under any illusions about how fast Jeyne’s makeshift army was going to travel now that we had a firm goal in mind they were shattered within the first week. First we had to wait for the ‘hunting’ parties to return. Laenor came back with them unharmed and had apparently impressed a fair few of the knights that had accompanied him. A knight of house Hardyng named Jon had especially taken a shine to him and I suspected Laenor might have an admirer. Although given the looks Laenor was shooting right back the feeling was very much mutual.

Once Jeyne had made sure the land surrounding the Eyrie was devoid of any lurking armies to put it under siege again she moved on to scouring her garrison for any hint of treachery. The woman was relentless and she ended up dismissing a fair few knights and servants when the answers they gave regarding where their allegiances lay weren’t satisfactory.

I did manage to secure an hour or two for her, Laenor, Jessamyn and I to sit down and discuss the future of the Vale and the Black faction at court. Which was no easy feat given her dedication to ensuring Ser Arnold could never, ever subvert her people again. I was beginning to suspect a few of neuroses there, she had definiteky not taken the threat on her home well.

“You believe Alicent will escalate then?” asked my cousin, studying me with a curious intensity. “I had thought her goal to be forcing your father to disavow you as his heir via political pressure from his Lords.”

“It will not work. Father is probably the most stubborn man in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I do not know why he refused to acknowledge Aegon as his heir after he was born but now it is too late for either of us to back down. When Father dies I will make my claim because to do otherwise is death and Alicent will make her claim because otherwise the Hightowers will lose a vast amount of resources and prestige.” I replied. Jeyne nodded thoughtfully.

“You have our complete support, Cousin, but we are not exactly the Reach when it comes to what we can provide.” Meaning her pockets weren’t endless or deep and she had a serious manpower problem. Luckily, Laenor and I could help with that.

I glanced at Laenor, who nodded and leant forward. I had been quite surprised to learn that during his time with the Vale Knights he’d been paying attention to just what they were saying regarding the problems the Vale had. He’d returned with several ideas on how our technology could be used to strengthen and develop our allies beyond the obvious in the farming technology.

The fact that I had convinced Jeyne to seize Gulltown for House Arryn, albeit a distant branch of it, had thrilled him. Apparently gaining a greater control of the port was something he’d been intending to advise Jeyne to do.

“Rhaenyra and I have begun working on developing ‘technologies’ from an ancient book,” he began.

“What does that actually mean?” asked Jessamyn, derailing his spiel. He paused, trying to explain and I took pity.

“Processes, devices, new ways of doing things. The ‘book’ is a copy of a copy and so on. It will require intense study but already we have a wealth of new ideas to work with,” I told her. Laenor nodded along.

“You would strengthen the Vale in return for me aiding you against Alicent and her Greens,” stated Jeyne.

“Wisdom Jerrett estimates that if we manage to reproduce even half of the technology mentioned we could increase crop yields by nine times and that’s a conservative estimate. That is just what the book says regarding agriculture,” Laenor pointed out.

“There’s more than just agriculture?” asked Jeyne. When Laenor nodded Jessamyn let out an impressed whistle and turned to Jeyne with wide eyes.

“You know that I would support you regardless of whether you gave me this information, Rhaenyra, but I will not lie and say that I do not want access to what you develop from this book,” Jeyne said after a moment’s pause.

“As Laenor said, we want to help develop the Vale. Yet we should also look to see how we can develop it in other ways, the research on the book has only just started, after all. Do you know whether the Vale can support mines?” I asked. Jessamyn giggle-snorted in a weird cross between amusement and frustration. Jeyne shot her a dry look.

“The Vale does support mines currently. Mostly in Royce lands in the form of copper and tin, which shouldn’t be surprising. I mine most of the marble and I believe the Belmore’s have a small iron mine,” she said after Jessamyn had calmed down.

“Oh, I see. It’s the mountain clans, isn’t it?” said Laenor before I could ask her to clarify why there was so little mining when you would assume the mountains would hold a wealth of resources.

“Correct. The mountains are rich with silver, iron and even some deposits of gold. Oh don’t get me wrong it’s nothing compared to Casterly Rock but it’s still a good amount. The problem is where it’s located, any permanent presence is either overrun before we can pull anything significant out of it or requires so much men to guard it that the mines simply aren’t economical. Honestly, most houses of the Vale have given up ever mining the resources of the mountains,” Jeyne told him.

Ouch. The lords of the Vale were a proud lot but poor. To know there was a king’s ransom sitting in the mountains they were so proud of and also know it’s completely untouchable must rankle.

“Then if we intend to help we have to start with the Mountain clans,” I said. This time both Jeyne and Jessamyn laughed but it was bitter.

“You think we have not tried? They know the mountains better than we do. Thousands of men can completely vanish and any attempt to chase them, even with vast armies or mounted knights, are doomed to failure,” said Jeyne finally. “We must settle for hunting them every autumn and depriving them of resources that way.”

I gritted my teeth. Perhaps I could kill two birds with one stone here. My new pike and shot model army was dead in the water but I didn’t have to give up on the idea of a professional army loyal to the crown. My entire knowledge of warfare came from playing copious amounts of Total War games but even I knew that relying on vassals for the majority of your muscle was a very bad idea.

The mountain clans had to be dealt with if the Vale was going to be strong enough to help win me the Dance. They were a nuisance that in the right circumstances could turn themselves into a disaster but they also presented an opportunity. During canon the mountain clans had served Tyrion. They’d hunted Stannis’ scouts with a ruthless efficiency, blinding him to Tywin and the Reach’s approach until it was too late.

The mountain clans would not work for me, I was under no illusions about that. I could, however, train my own versions with better equipment and supplies and use the Mountains of the Moon as their crucible. If it succeeded, I would have a reliable force that could blind my enemies to my movements and raid their supply lines and if it didn’t, I had still sent aid to Jeyne and would won some good will from her.

“You’ve had a thought,” said Laenor, looking at me. “I recognise that smirk.”

Was I smirking? Yes. I explained the idea to the three of them without the bit about Tyrion.

“The clans know the mountains better than any men you can send and they move about them with little to no effort. You will be sending them to their deaths. Even if you managed to find clan territory, they’d simply pick up and move.”

“I’m not suggesting we throw them into a search and destroy action straight away. I’d suggest they arrive, set up some sort of fort and slowly explore first, learnt he mountains. Then we use them in addition to whatever men your lords can raise to put the mountain clans to flight in a true campaign,”

“Jeyne, it’s worth a try. Even if it only succeeds for a season or two, it’s enough to create and reinforce some mines. You said yourself that something needed to change in the Vale,” said Jessamyn, softly. Jeyne sighed, melting in the face of her lover’s pleading look.

“Rhaenyra, you seem to have kicked over an anthill. Very well, if the business with Gulltown doesn’t explode in our faces, I will put it to my Lords for their opinions, Seven knows it will at least give them something to do.”

It was still another week until we left the Eyrie. An undercurrent of unease and excitement seemed to be boiling under the skin of every man and woman making the journey. Things were changing in the Vale. Word had gotten out the Graftons had earned Lady Arryn’s ire to the point that she was willing to seek Lady Royce’s aid which did not point to good things in Lord Humfrey Grafton’s future.

Going to war, even a minor one like this, was not as glamorous or fun as I’d hoped. Progress was achingly slow and a trip that Syrax could have made in less than half a day and one man on a horse could make in two days took us four whole days. Admittedly, the road was poor and the terrain hard to pass. Jeyne promised that we would make better time on the road from Iron Oaks to Runestone as it was on flatter land. Road being a generous term for the glorified dirt track that occasionally lead into steep rises over rock.

We stayed a few days in Ironoaks as more men joined us from houses sworn to Lord Denys and Lord Gerold before setting off for Runestone proper, a trip that promised to cost us another week in time. I was told Jeyne had sent word to Lady Rhea informing her of our coming but there had been no reply waiting at Ironoaks for us. Jeyne sulked about the whole matter the entire way and refused even Jessamyn’s cajoling to cheer up.

Happily, Falena Waynwood appeared to be made of sterner stuff than most. We’d picked her up during our brief stay at Ironoaks and she seemed completely unfazed by Syrax, the marching or the fact that Laenor was being as unsubtle as a brick to the face when it came to Ser Jon. I still wasn’t ready to trust her completely but it seemed she knew how to keep her mouth shut so far.

It was getting towards evening when we finally caught sight of Runestone. A respectable stone keep that towered over a cliff, looking out over the sea. Probably had some really nice views but I’m also will to bet no one ever told them about erosion. Actually, maybe I was wrong about that. Part of the cliff had fallen away due to time and the sea but the land that supported the castle seemed untouched.

A mystery for another day, I suppose.

Lady Rhea and her household were waiting to greet us. My Lady Aunt was a tall woman with dark hair and hazel eyes. Her thin lips were being forced to form a polite smile but I could tell she was completely unimpressed with our arrival. We left the army setting up camp outside Runestone proper alongside Syrax and Seasmoke and accompanied the more distinguished members of our party to meet with Lady Royce.

It was awkward and the whole business did not get any less awkward as we preceded inside and were invited to share a small meal. Jeyne barely managed to stay on the right side of polite, a fact I attritbute entirely to Jessamyn’s hasty diplomacy. For her own part, Lady Rhea ignored Jeyne’s comments and muttering, instead focusing on her meal like she was trying to ignore our presence. 

Lord Denys and Lord Gerold were not willing to let her forget though and had already started putting pressure on Rhea to help us against the Graftons heedless of the tense mood. Rhea was as non-committal as possible but did agree to arrange a proper discussion regarding the matter. Honestly, to say the Royce’s supposedly had a blood feud going on with the Graftons, she was surprisingly ambivalent about the prospect of finally getting rid of them.

I probably should have taken that as a warning that she was preoccupied by something else completely. Me, namely. I’d barely gotten to the rooms assigned to me when one of her servants materialised and asked me if I’d like to join Lady Rhea in her solar for some wine.

“Princess Rhaenyra, I did not expect to see you riding to my liege lady’s aid. I must offer you my thanks for defending the Vale from such treachery.” For all that her words were praise, her tone was ice cold. 

I offered her a warm smile and frantically tried to think of whatever I did that would have pissed her off this badly. I’d last seen her in person twelve years ago and even then it’d been a quick meet and greet. I’d gotten Daemon banished but again, that was hardly something she would be upset about given the way he’d treated her over the years.

“Thank you, Lady Rhea. My cousin is dear to me, I would not see her harmed,” I replied. That should be safe enough. Rhea regarded me with a cool look before waving a servant forth to pour wine. I wondered briefly if it could be poisoned before dismissing the thought. Rhea wasn’t nearly stupid enough to poison the heir to the Iron Throne in her own keep whilst an army and two dragons were camped outside.

“Dear to you? Or dear to the Blacks?” Rhea asked after she’d taken a sip. Okay, maybe she just doesn’t like me bringing my little private war to the Vale and especially to her doorstep?

“To be truthful, both but she is my cousin first. Besides, we women need to stick together,” I replied before taking a drink. Honesty seemed to be the best policy with Rhea.

“Oh? Were we ‘sticking together’ when you fucked my husband?”


	15. The Vale - Chapter 13

I choked on the wine as a good portion of it went directly up my nose in surprise at the blunt question. Evidently she’d selected drowning in her attempted murder and here I was, like a fool, worried about poison. She was completely silent as I recovered from the shock of the question and her eyes never left me.

“Excuse me?” I managed to croak eventually.

“I believe I was quite clear. Tell me, what does your husband think of the fact you gave your maidenhood away to your uncle?”

I slammed down on my anger hard. I couldn’t risk Rhaenyra’ing this into an even more messed up situation than it already was. Evidently, Rhea had believed the rumours that had circled the capital nearly four years ago. As much as I was trying to understand her position, how she must view it, I wanted to rip her face off. How dare she make me out as the villian? I was the victim! Her husband had…

No. Deep breaths.

“Do you know why Jeyne hates your father so much?” I asked after counting to ten several times. Rhea raised an eyebrow at the seeming change in topic but nodded eventually.

“He isolated her, tried to control her, sent her allies away from her,” I recapped. 

“I am aware. How does this relate to your indiscretions?”

“There was no indiscretion!” Damn it. Reign it in. Don’t offend her, be nice. She knows her husband, she knows what he’s like. Keep calm. My fingers ached but any sign of fidgeting would likely convince Rhea I was lying.

“Then tell me Princess, if he did not take your maidenhead, how did he earn his banishment?” She asked. I grimaced.

“He came to court during a tourney and made it clear he wanted me. I was fourteen, I’d seen how he’d treated Alicent and how he treated you, I knew what he was like and I… I wanted none of it but he did not stop! Would not stop! I did everything I could to get him to leave me alone. Even Alicent put aside our differences to help, so blatant were his wrongdoings,” I sounded like I was on the verge of tears. Scratch that, I was on the verge of tears. The old terror of knowing what he was capable of, knowing what he’d do if encouraged was coming to the fore. 

It had been all well and good to sit and tell myself that he would not, could not, act so overtly. That my status as Princess and his niece protected me, that I knew the future and as long as everything was on track I could beat him with ease. Faced with the Rogue Prince in all his terrible glory, I’d been less certain.

“Even Lady Rhaenys came to help but he had Viserys on his side. He had her sent away and then took her role as my flight instructor, no matter where I went he was always present. I went… I went to Driftmark, I offered to marry Laenor then and there. He would have gotten what he wanted if I hadn’t, Viserys was wavering! He had my father call me back so I…” Tears forced me to pause.

I wasn’t proud of how I’d chosen to get rid of Daemon but I’d been terrified. I’d started off so certain Viserys would betroth me to Laenor, that he’d refuse to annul the marriage between Rhea and Daemon but Daemon had been longer at court this time. Viserys had been wavering as Daemon spun him tale after tale of how miserable his life was with a wife like Rhea. If Viserys had given in, Daemon would never have stopped until he had me and once he had me, he’d never let go.

“I.. I invited him to my rooms. I goaded him, I said awful things and I pushed and I pushed until he got angry,” I risked a glance at Rhea. Her eyes were blazing with rage but I didn’t think it was directed at me anymore. In fact when she noticed me looking, her eyes softened just a little.

“He struck you?” she asked finally, as I struggled to get my breathing under control. I was crying in truth now and my aunt handed me a handkerchief. I took it gratefully.

“He knocked me to the floor. I had a knife f-for my protection but he-” I held up my aching fingers for Rhea to examine. She did so, cool fingers pulling my hand closer.

“He broke your fingers. Your Maester did a shoddy job with healing these,” she noted as her probing touch found the misshapen part of the bone. I laughed, I couldn’t help it and she shot me a startled look.

“Grand Maester Runciter was a piss-poor healer. Laenor never believes me. Mellos is even worse,” I explained at her questioning look. It probably wasn’t time to delve into my planned war against the Maesters, I’d probably sound unhinged. She let my hand go and sat back in her chair and I began massaging the ache away now that I didn’t have to fear her misunderstanding the action.

“What happened next?” she asked.

“Ser Criston saved me. I don’t know what Daemon would have done had he not been there. He was so, so angry. He drew Dark Sister and was ranting and raving and… Ser Criston heard and came to my rescue.” The truth of the matter was Ser Criston had been lying in wait for Daemon. I’d expected him to hit me, curse at me… The memory of his foot snapping my fingers around the hilt of the dagger made me want to retch.

“I see. Then your father banished him only after he’d physically harmed his daughter.” Her face twisted in distaste. I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t known. Viserys had covered the whole thing up, ordered the guards and servants to silence and cracked down hard on anyone who spoke of Daemon at all. “What did you say to goad him?”

“I… It was cruel.” I said, swallowing heavily. Rhea raised her eyebrow and I realised I had no way of escaping this line of questing. Not in a way she would accept. Shame rolled in my gut as I told her. “I taunted him about… about h-his bastard. The one he lost to the storm.” 

“Cruel? Perhaps but you did what was necessary to defend yourself. Your father is a fool for letting it get that far,” Rhea said. I took a few shaky breaths and let out a watery chuckle.

“At a guess, Viserys covered for his brother as he has always done and refused to address the rumours,” Rhea sighed after a few moments of silence broken only by my hiccups and sniffles.

“Alicent was quick to spread the rumours you likely heard,” I told her, nodding. She believed I’d capitalised on the incident to get the betrothal to Laenor and his vast amounts of Velaryon gold secured. I couldn’t exactly tell her that it did not matter what I did, that Viserys was intending the betrothal anyway, she believed I’d betrayed our alliance first. The rumours had been her vengeance.

“Of course. I will have to pay her back in kind for shaming me so,” Rhea snorted. I wasn’t going to interact with that. Rhea was a proud woman and the rumours had clearly angered her. She’d been embarrassed by the thought of Daemon carrying on in full view of the court with me and engineered a confrontation only to be proved wrong.

Twice the humiliation and now she had a target for revenge.

“Lord Denys would have me believe this notion of Jeyne’s to seize Gulltown has your full support,” she stated finally, jarring me from my thoughts.

“I suggested it in truth. Jeyne did not want to do so but agreed as long as you gave your support.”

“Surprising, I would not think Jeyne gave much thought to anything I did,” she said, as if challenging me to prove her wrong. I took a deep breath. If I let what had happened between Daemon and I, the old fear and self-recrimination, stop me from bring Rhea and Jeyne together then he would have won.

And I was not going to let him win.

“Jeyne is the first female ruler of the Vale and we are in a time where the role of women is questioned. I would hazard a guess that you could name one man who is representative of that. The one you’ll always hate because he’s the one you think of when men make out your aren’t worthy of your seat,” Rhea frowned at me and I realised that person was likely Daemon. Heedless, I forged on. “That person for Jeyne is your father. He made her feel unsafe and for the first time in her life she was unsafe because she was woman. She likely sees him in every sneer, every vaguely disloyal vassal.”

“So you would have me grovel for the sins of my father?” asked Rhea, archly. I shook my head. Rhea was too proud to admit any wrongdoing on her part but even if she wasn’t having a complete dick for a father was not illegal. If it were, we’d be sharing a cell.

“I would have you make common cause with her. As long as Royce and Arryn are split, both are vulnerable,” I urged. “You’re father died before Jeyne could truly gain closure, confront your father over what he had done. Mayhaps if you and her find common cause to succeed where he was so certain you’d fail, she can move past it.”

Rhea was silent for some time, mulling over my words.

“I will speak to her tomorrow. I can not promise anything,” she huffed, finally. It would have to be good enough. The Royce were Jeyne’s second most powerful vassal followed closely by the Graftons. If the Graftons were taken out of the picture and replaced with Arryns whilst the Royce stood behind her in support it would stop rebellion against Jeyne’s rule dead.

I left soon after, hoping that no one could tell that I had been crying. It would simply add fuel to the fire of the rumours that I had slept with Daemon and now his wife had confronted the harlot that had lured her husband from her. 

Laenor was no where to be seen so I assumed he was visiting Jon. I felt a pang of… something after that. I wanted someone to hold tonight, someone to reassure me, and he was the only acceptable candidate. I couldn’t let anyone else see me vulnerable, it would become a black mark against me. A sign I was only a woman after all, unworthy of being queen. Too emotional.

I coiled up amongst the bedding and squeezed my eyes closed. I had knowledge of the future, I knew the players in this game, knew which way they’d jump if something bad happened so why did I keep messing it up? How did I keep getting people so wrong?

Ser Criston, Prince Daemon… I had to be better. At some point I fell asleep, with only the thoughts of missed possibilities and mistakes to accompany me.

Jeyne and Rhea were missing when we gathered for breakfast the next morning. Not that anyone commented although Jessamyn kept shooting worried glances at the seat that Jeyne would occupy. We were all subdued and I hazarded a guess that no one had slept well the night before judging by the tired eyes and quiet voices. At least Laenor was in fine spirits. I’d been right about my theories in regards to his whereabouts last night, as it turned out.

Breakfast finished and servants appeared to begin clearing the area whilst those of us high enough station were invited to Rhea’s solar to discuss the Graftons and what could be done. It seemed that Rhea had made good on her promise to speak to Jeyne because that’s where we found the Lady of the Vale, scowling at a cup juice like it had just insulted her. Jessamyn slipped past me and sat next to her, looking to be two seconds away from putting a comforting arm around her. Instead, Jeyne pulled her eyes from the cup and smiled softly.

I watched as they stayed like that for a few moments, heart aching with want, until Rhea cleared her throat.

“I have spoken with both Lady Jeyne and Princess Rhaenyra regarding this plot to seize Gulltown,” she started. I felt myself tense up, nerves rolling in my gut. “Both have convinced me this is the best course of action in the face of Grafton treachery and so I will do my duty as a Royce of Runestone and a vassal of the Vale and support my liege lady in this.”

If my sigh of relief were audible, no one commented.

“Lady Rhea has some valuable information regarding Gulltown’s defences,” Jeyne said. “It seems Ser Roland returned with about two thirds of the men we sent running from the Gate of the Moon. The entire city has been on alert and Lord Grafton has been raising men from the surrounding villages.”

“He intends to force a siege. He hopes that political pressure from a long engagement will force you to the negotiating table,” said Lord Gerold.

“He may be right. Already Lord Corbray and Lord Hunter write to me of their displeasure at my march,” said Jeyne, gesturing at Rhea’s desk. Two letters bearing the ravens of House Corbray and the arrows of House Hunter. 

“They protest because Lord Grafton’s sister is married to Lord Gawen Corbray and Lord Hunter is Gawen’s Goodbrother. They will not rise for Lord Humfrey but honour demands they do something,” said Lord Denys. Jeyne grimaced but nodded.

“He has no other potential allies in the Vale. His son’s wife is a Manderly but I would warrant they wouldn’t ride to his defence, even if they could get here in time,” Lord Gerold said, placing a fatherly hand on Jeyne’s shoulder.

“If it helps I can send a few galleys to the Sisters as a show of support. Driftmark still has a sizable home fleet, it would be no trouble,” Laenor told her, eyes eager. I watched Jeyne carefully, hoping she would not get cold feet. To attaint an entire line was no small thing. Finally I saw her give in.

“Very well, you’ve all made your points. Lady Rhea, I will need to borrow your Maester to send out my decision to the Vale.”


	16. The Vale - Chapter 14

“My Lady, I have always been a loyal vassal-”

“Lord Humfrey, your kinsman aided in treachery most foul. He brought mercenaries and Grafton men to siege me in the Eyrie itself!” said Jeyne, tone like ice. Lord Humfrey flinched and glanced around the pavilion, looking for allies.

He was seated opposite us with only a table as his defence. We’d arrived at Gulltown with Royce, Redfort and Waynwood troops ready for a siege. Lord Humfrey had called for a parley which Jeyne had been happy to grant. I’d made sure the soon to be ex-lord of Gulltown got a good look at Syrax and Seasmoke before he’d been presented with bread and salt.

Lady Rhea was seated to Jeyne’s left, a sign that Royce and Arryn were united once more even if the personal rift between the two women would take far longer to heal. The fact that Rhea was looking at Lord Humfrey with a savage glee in her eyes and small smile playing about her lips was likely not all that reassuring. Sat to Jeyne’s right, I kept my face neutral meeting his eyes with cool disinterest in the plea they conveyed. Finally, to Rhea’s left sat Lord Denys and Lord Gerold. Judging from Lord Humfrey’s defeated look, he hadn’t found reassurance in their corner either.

“My kinsman, My Lady! I will hand over Ser Roland gladly for he is a traitor but I am not,” he whined.

“And yet the mercenaries were brought in via Gulltown and Ser Roland raised an army from your lands. Do you claim to know nothing of this?” asked Jeyne. Lord Humfrey flushed, there was no good answer to that question.

“I understand I have failed you, My Lady, but failure does not warrant this judgement,” he replied after a moment or two. I heard Lord Denys snort from his seat and Lord Gerold hush him quickly.

“Forgive me, Lord Humfrey, I fail to see how it does not. Your incompetence let an army of enemies into the Vale and men of your family raised another from your own lands. A lord who does not notice that is not fit to be a lord,” Jeyne declared. Lord Humfrey glared at her before deciding to change tact, losing his snivelling demeanour. He straightened in his seat and his face became a sneer of anger.

“The Lords of the Vale will not stand for this travesty of justice!” he bellowed, rising to his feet.

“The Lords of the Vale already approve,” Lady Rhea all but sneered at him, gesturing to Lord Waynwood and Redfort.

“And what of you, My Lords? What will you do when this… this deviant harlot comes for your lands?” asked Lord Humfrey, face now red with rage. Lord Gerold leapt to his feet, hand on his blade. Well, I suppose that answers whether the Vale lords knew about Jessamyn. Why was it ignored? The Vale of Arryn was the most conservative Kingdom bar none.

“Enough!” barked Lord Denys, pulling Lord Gerold back into his seat. “We will have no problem with Lady Jeyne because we have no intention of betraying her.”

“Meet me on the field, Lord Humfrey, and I will have blood for that insult,” said Lord Gerold. Lord Humfrey snorted before turning to Laenor and I.

“I suppose I should not be surprised one woman who steals her families birthright should be supported by another?” he asked. Beside me, Laenor’s hand came to rest on the sword he’d begun habitually carrying.

“Lady Arryn inherited the Eyrie in accordance with Andal customs. The preference for male heirs comes from the laws of the First Men, I believe, such as the Shetts?” Grafton flushed in rage at the reminder. “And as for my situation, King Jaehaerys proved a King has the right to choose his heir when he chose Prince Baelon over Princess Rhaenys. If he had followed Andal custom, I’d be married to Prince Laenor and bowing to his mother,”

Laenor snickered at the thought as I watched as Grafton stood there, fists clenching uselessly as even in his anger he was unwilling to break guest right. 

“I reject your terms of peaceful surrender. I name you a whore, a pretender who sullies the title she stole! You would have the whole Vale follow you into deviancy! I know what you are, Jeyne Arryn, you can take my city from my cold, dead hands!”

“Don’t worry, Lord Humfrey, I will!” called Jeyne to his retreating back. After his men had finished filing out and we were left alone, Jeyne dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

“I suppose it was too much to hope he’d surrender peacefully?” she asked.

“A great shame,” said Lord Gerold, not sounding particularly upset. His eyes were still fixed on where Lord Humfrey had stood until moments ago, pale with rage.

“So, we must siege the city,” said Laenor. He hadn’t been keen on the idea, hoping Lord Grafton would see sense. Starving the Graftons out would be impossible which meant taking the walls and street fighting. Our army wasn’t big enough to throw away lives so deploying the dragons was almost guaranteed which meant Gulltown may well be reduced to cinders in the process.

“Not necessarily,” Lady Rhea replied. “Did you see the sigils on some of those guardsmen?”

“Arryn men. They heard our demand that Grafton turn the city over to the Arryns of Gulltown and will relay it too their masters. Grafton knows this too,” supplied Lord Denys.

“Which means either the Arryns let us in or Lord Grafton has to somehow get the Arryns out,” I said, seeing the logic. “Did you plan for that?”

“Lord Grafton likely thought he was threatening me by bringing the guards of my kinsman to confront me. Instead, he’s sealed the fate of his city,” Said Jeyne. “Although I confess we did not plan for it. The original plan was to have your dragons burn the gates and pray to the Seven the fires did not spread too far and too fast.”

“I’m just relieved I will not need to burn a city today,” replied Laenor and I nodded with him. Jeyne smiled and then frowned.

“My Lords and Ladies, could you leave me to discuss a personal matter with my cousin?” They all filed out, Jessamyn with a look of concern etched upon her face.

“I suppose you heard his parting insult to me?” she asked, once we were alone.

“I did wonder how you were getting away with being so obvious,” I replied and Jeyne blushed.

“You do not care?” she asked, surprise in her voice.

“Rhaenyra is not one to judge any man or woman based on who they love,” said Laenor.

“I had heard… rumours,” began Jeyne, hesitantly.

“About Joffrey and I? They were true. Rhaenyra knew even before our marriage,” Laenor told her before I could incriminate myself. Jeyne sat back and let out a sigh of relief.

“I did not wish to enter into our alliance proper without telling you but it is a hard thing to bring up. As for being obvious, well there’s a degree of deniability in the Vale. It’s not like elsewhere, as long as they do not see us actively engaging in such behaviour they will not bring it up.” I raised an eyebrow and she blushed again. That did not sound like Westeros, in fact, that sounded far too good to be true.

“I fear this business has me out of sorts if my tongue is failing me so,” she said. “If they bring it up with no proof, it is considered a mark against them that they were even thinking about something like that. Something no highborn man or woman would ever do even if it were possible. Since no one has anyway of proving it unless I am caught in the act… It’s not ideal for those of us who love that way in the Vale but it’s better than a lot of Westeros. You truly do not care? I confess my Vale Lords will not speak of it but Alicent will surely spread the rumours, it could damage the Black faction immeasurably.”

She was right, of course, but then if Alicent found out about a lot of things it would damage the Black faction. Laenor, for instance. Myself, for another. Even if the alliance with the Vale was not on the cards, I was not going to shame a woman who loved another woman.

“I do not mind. As long as your Vale lords support you,” I replied. Jeyne smiled in relief and then surged forward, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Jess was right. You are something else entirely,” she mumbled. I heard Laenor snort in amusement as she drew back.

“Have you put our notion of clan hunting to Lord Denys and Lord Gerold?” I asked, needing an excuse to move away from more awkward topics of conversation.

“Not to them yet but I made mention of it to Lady Rhea. She says if we truly intend to go through with it there are men who live in her lands who are better acquainted with the clans than strictly legal. She will give as many as possible to us as guides and trainers,” Jeyne said, after a moment of studying me with pursed lips. “She also pointed out that funding such a force would be a problem for the Vale lords alone, to say nothing of the upfront cost.”

“House Velaryon can provide loans to that effect,” said Laenor, before I could reply.

“In return for a healthy amount of future profits, I imagine?” Jeyne snorted.

“We can discuss that when we draw up the contract,” Laenor replied diplomatically. Maybe I should make Laenor my Master of Coin? He seems to have a nose for making a profit. First, the timber from Lord Wendwater and now mines in the Vale.

The rest of the day was filled with waiting. Lady Rhea was certain that if either the Graftons or Arryns were going to strike at one another it would be during the night. It seemed Rhea had taken her houses enmity with the Graftons seriously because she’d gone out of her way to have her spies produce a reasonably detailed picture of all the ‘VIPs’ that resided in Gulltown. 

According to her, Terrance Arryn was the type to strike in the evening as the guards were changing. Rhea also told us it was unlikely he would strike first. As High as Honour, he followed his house words with almost religious fervor. If he swore to Lord Grafton, he’d follow him, even if betrayal would benefit him better. Still, all was not lost, he wasn’t a stupid man, he always left himself wiggle room. 

If the Graftons made their move first it would be during the hour of ghosts, just before the sun rose, and it would be a show of overwhelming force to cow Gulltown into submission and quell any traitorous thoughts. Rhea thought this to be much more likely. Humfrey would be spoiling for a fight after his show in the pavilion earned him nothing but sneers in return and he was not likely viewing Ser Arryn in a positive light right now.

The day gave way to evening with no sign of any change within the city. I was tense but Laenor insisted I try to rest. Night saw my curled up on an impossibly uncomfortable camp bed, shivering under a completely inadequate blanket. Somehow I fell asleep only to be shaken awake in the early hours by Laenor, informing me that smoke had been seen above Gulltown. I got dressed as quickly as possible with Falena’s help and followed him out into the camp.

As I made my way to the pavilion, I could just make out the smoke clouds that were beginning to rise over the city although it was hard with the blackness of the sky. Around me the camp was coming to life as soldiers were shaken awake and preparing for battle. It seemed Rhea had an unrecorded gift for precognition.

“-has likely been preparing this since he knew we intended to hand Gulltown to him. I doubt we will need to go to his aid, he’s a tricky one.” Rhea was saying as I entered. 

“I could fly over the city and have Syrax roar a bit to encourage Grafton men to remember where their loyalty lies?” I suggested. Denys hummed thoughtfully before glancing at Gerold.

“It could cause a panic which would hinder the Arryn men if they have a plan to take the city,” he said after a moment of thought.

“Or incite the Grafton men to throw down their weapons if they believe the Arryns taking the city to be preferable to fighting a dragon,” Laenor pointed out from my side. 

“We’ll keep it back. For now our men will march towards the city and see if the Arryn’s open the gates,” decided Lord Denys.

Butterflies stirred in my gut as I found Syrax, saddled and ready to fly. Around me, men flowed forward towards the city. From a small distance away, I heard Seasmoke bellowing and Syrax shifted at the noise. She was as agitated as I was, sensing a fight coming. I climbed aboard her and made myself ready, a task made harder by her increased shifting and shuffling. After I was secure on her back, I calmed her with gentle brushes to the soft skin behind her horns and she went still as my fingers danced along the most vulnerable part of her body. It would never get old to me that dragons, the fire breathing terrors of the sky, loved and adored head pats.

“The gates are open! Go! Go! Move into the city!”

The army surged forward and I could see that the gates were, indeed, open and displaying the Arryn sigil. Syrax tensed again at the sudden cries and shouts as the men ran forth, seeming more like a disorganised mob than a true army.

“Arryn! For the Vale!”

“Ironoaks! Ironoaks!”

“Strong as Stone! Redfort! Redfort!”

“Royce! Royce! Royce!”


	17. The Vale - Chapter 15

Syrax soared over the city, giving me a perfect view of the fall of Gulltown, despite the darkness.

It had been Arryn men that had opened the gates. The main bulk of the army streamed through them, following Lord Redfort’s banners, whilst some peeled off with Lord Waynwood’s. I noted Lord Denys’ men seemed to be heading for the Keep the Grafton’s called home. Laenor circled them with Seasmoke before following the green and black banners.

I followed Lord Redfort’s men. Ahead of them, forming up by a set of defensive walls that split the docks from the city proper in what could be a market square, the Grafton men gathered. They were forming into rows and using the narrow streets to their advantage. In order to reach them, Jeyne’s army would have to march through a hail of arrows and then straight into spear men. Flanking would not be possible and charging them with his knights would be suicidal.

I watched as Lord Redfort began forming his men up, the heavily armoured dismounted knights to the front. Able to survive the arrow fire but the spears would be more difficult to navigate for them. He had archers of his own but the Grafton commander had effectively taken them out of the game with his positioning whilst giving his own archers a killing field.

I waited until the Knights began moving through the alleyways and the Grafton’s attention was taken up by them before urging Syrax into a shallow dive, pressing myself against her back. I heard screams as she trailed her massive claws through the Grafton men like she was so fond of doing when flying over the sea. I could here the Grafton commander screaming for his men to form up and hold even as Syrax scattered them. Those that did not get out of her way died. 

Syrax pulled out of her dive and took me up, only to nearly collide with Laenor who was urging his own Seasmoke on with some urgency if the crack of his whip was any indication.

I could barely make him out on Seasmoke’s back. I watched as he soared over the walls to sounds of dismay from the men on the other side of it. He pushed Seasmoke on and the circled back round. The ships, I realised, feeling like an idiot. There were ships in the bay and they didn’t look like they were keen on staying in the city. Instead of setting them alight, he turned Seasmoke’s breath on the sea. I watched as it boiled and rose into a thick mist.

Oh, that boy is a genius.

I turned back to the formation of Grafton men. They’d reorganised their formation but I could see the bodies of their fallen comrades. Bodies Syrax and myself had caused. Bile rose in my throat and I just had the time to turn my head before I threw up.

As if sensing my distress, Syrax gave a great bellowing roar but I was barely paying attention. I killed people. I’d had Syrax tear them apart, left them bloody messes and smears on the cobble and I’d killed them…

I snapped out of my daze in time to see Lord Gerold’s banners reach the Grafton men. My distraction had done it’s job. The spearman no longer had the advantge of the alleyways and were forced to fall back into a semicircle, protecting the archers that fired volley after volley over their heads. Even though plate was expensive and damned near impossible to punch through with arrows, I could see the occasional knight fall to a lucky shot.

Sweat prickled across my skin and I shuddered with sudden coldness. I could break those lines with ease. I retched again at the thought but there was nothing left in my stomach to bring up.

I pushed Syrax to begin her descent again, the yellow-green dragon bellowing her anger at my distress. The Grafton commander was yelling at his men, screaming for them to focus on the knights and not the dragon but the lines broke as Syrax tore through them again. A few braver archers managed to snap shots off in my direction, I could hear the arrows whistle by, but none hit me. As Syrax pulled up again, the Knights moved in and began the slaughter.

Without the advantage of the terrain and the protection of formation fighting the Grafton men were mere sport for the heavily armoured and well trained Vale knights. Within minutes those that were left began surrendering. I gave Syrax a light strike with the whip and she obediently began circling for a good landing spot.

“I must thank you, Princess Rhaenyra. I wasn’t looking forward to breaking those Grafton lines! Just our luck to end up with the only competent Grafton facing us!” Lord Gerold bellowed as I clambered down from Syrax. My legs felt like jelly and if it hadn’t been for him speeding forward catching me, I would have fallen on my face as my legs decided to go on strike. She’d landed in the plaza once his men has cleared most of those that had surrendered. The last of them were being hauled off by the Arryn and Redfort knights. The ground was still littered with the dead and sharp scent of blood had me retching again.

“First fight takes you the hardest. Deep breaths,” he murmured, arm flung around my shoulder as if he were congratulating me on the victory and not the sole reason I was still on my feet. “Bring the Princess some wine! She’s the only reason half you sorry lot are alive! I think she’s earned it!”

A wineskin was pushed into my hands by a nervous looking young man in Redfort livery. I drank and retched again at the cloying sweetness of it.

“Good lass, keep drinking. You did well, you kept going, you kept your head,” his praise was spoken in a low voice so that his men could not hear. I did as he said. Smoke rose from the outskirts of Gulltown. I jumped as Lord Gerold’s cloak fell about my shoulders and I realised I had been shivering.

“My boy is off chasing the last of the bastards, your Laenor parked his dragon by the Gull Tower and the Shetts all but pissed themselves surrendering. Good thinking stopping the ships that way, got a good head on his shoulders that boy. More wine for the Princess!”

The empty wineskin was taken away and replaced someone else’s. I drank, teeth clattering against the wooden rim. Across the courtyard, Lord Denys rode in with his knights. It took him no time at all to dismount and cross to us, his face bearing a fierce grin.

“The keep surrendered when they realised their Lord was sitting in the harbour like a useless lump. Jeyne and Rhea are setting up there now, if you want to see dear Humfrey grovel I’d suggest we head there now,” he told us.

“Oh, I want to see that very much. Got your legs back yet, Princess?”

I took a few experimental steps. Wobbly but at least I didn’t fall flat on my face. Lord Gerold clapped me on the back and shouted for horses.

“Don’t worry too much about it, everyone’s first kill takes them hard. It takes a man not in his right mind to enjoy killing,” said Lord Denys softly. 

“Thank you, my lords.” My voice was ragged and I suppressed a wince. I would need to see to that if I was going to speak to Lord Humfrey. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing anything he’d done caused me distress.

We rode to the keep with a small escort of soldiers. Lord Gerold kept up an idle chatter for most of the way, something I was glad for. I had to sort through my thoughts. I had killed today. Actually killed. No, I couldn’t think about it now. Now I had to be the heir to the Iron Throne. If I wanted to be Queen, I had show everyone I was willing to fight to have it.

“Princess, is that your beast in the bay?” Lord Denys asked, interrupted Lord Gerold’s stream of chatter. I followed his gaze to see Syrax floating on top of the water. I fought the urge to giggle at the sight.

“Yes, that’s Syrax. She’s fond of water.”

“Can she fly out of water? Or does she climb out like a lizard lion?” asked Lord Gerold, seemingly out of genuine curiousity but I wouldn’t put it past him to be asking to take my mind off the fact I had ki… No.

“It’s more like a jump really. They dive and then push themselves out before flying normally. Syrax does it when she wants to catch fish.” 

“Dragons eat fish?” came the surprised murmur of a knight I didn’t know the name of. Lord Denys shot him a look or warning.

“Dragons will eat anything they can half reduce to ash first. I’ve seen baby ones chew on charred plants and bushes,” I said with a laugh. Yeah, that was a weird quirk I’d discovered. Dragons liked their food very well done and it didn’t matter what kind of food as long as they had the chance to set it on fire first. Brief dragon physiology lesson over, we made our way into the great hall of what had been the Grafton keep.

The extended Grafton family were seated against the wall, under the watchful eye of Jeyne’s men. Jeyne herself had stolen what must have been Lord Humfrey’s chair and Lady Rhea flanked on her right, looking very much like the cat who’d gotten the cream. I took the seat to her left and returned the brief smile she shot me with a small one of my own.

After everyone had taken their places, Jeyne made a gesture. A man in Redfort colours stepped forward and bowed, respectfully.

“The city is secured, my lady. We had minimal looting and some fires on the outskirts but there is little actual damage,” He told us.

“That is excellent news indeed! What of the prisoners?” she asked, eyeing the Graftons lined up in the hall.

“Ser Laenor prevented any ships from escaping the bay so we have captured all the Graftons that were within the walls at the time of the siege. We making good time on processing the men who surrendered by the docks.”

“Good! Good! I will make sure your men are well rewarded for their heroics.” The man bowed again, sensing the dismissal. After he’d left, another man was brought forward. I frowned. He was no peasant but he was hardly dressed in a manner I would expect from a Lord. He bowed low though and in a clearly respectful manner.

“My lady! I have come to beg you to reconsider granting Gulltown to your kinsman here! They are no true nobles! They engage in trade, they shame their noble ancestors with copper counting!” His voice was loud, almost a shout. From just beyond Jeyne, I heard Rhea sigh. I watched the man carefully. Was he a Shett? The same Shett’s that lost Gulltown to the Graftons after losing a war to the Royces?

“We have the better claim on Gulltown, it was stolen from us by the perfidious Graftons-” Yes, he was.

“I didn’t hear you calling us perfidious when you swore to defend us against ‘Lady Jeyne’s unjust seizure of the city’, you snivelling little man!” barked a Grafton woman. One of the knights casually thumped her for speaking out, even as the man puffed up and opened his mouth to argue the point.

“Enough!” Jeyne shouted. “Ser Eustace, I hear your petition but my mind is made up on this front. House Shett has not the resources or expertise to hold Gulltown. Whether you like this or not, Gulltown is centre of trade and the Vale needs a family that understands that trade. However, I will ensure that a suitable amount of land outside the city is placed under your purview for your loyalty to the Arryns.”

Ser Eustace bowed again, beaming. Oh! He hadn’t really thought he’d get Gulltown. He wanted to see what he could get from Jeyne to strengthen his house and in return, Jeyne gets to preemptively weaken a potentially troublesome vassal without breaking feudal contract.

Gods, I felt like my mind was running at half speed to not spot that.

Another man was brought forth, one I recognised this time. Lord Humfrey Grafton. His nose was broken and his doublet stained with blood but other than that he was in good health. The look of pure hate he directed at Jeyne was… wow.

“Lord Grafton. You incited rebellion in the Vale, you refused my lawful proclamations and then attempted to flee justice leaving others to die in your place. For this, I would see you dead but honour demands you have a choice. So, a black cloak or the headsman's block?”

Lord Humfrey didn’t speak for a while, his eyes flicking each of the Lords and Lady’s sitting in judgement before finally he sagged in defeat.

“A pox on you, I will take the black and hope I live to see you die,” he muttered finally.

“Coward! You shame us all!” The same Grafton woman yelled as Humfrey was hauled from the room. The same knight went to thump her but a raised hand and a command from Jeyne had them hauling her forward instead.

“Maris, enough of this. Your Lord Father lost, there has to be consequences,” Oh, they knew each other? I watched as Maris stared hard at Jeyne, who just seemed tired rather than incensed at the interruptions. “I will ensure you are taken care of but the Graftons can not remain in control of Gulltown. He brought an army in through it’s ports for the mother’s sake!”

Maris didn’t have anything to say to that so Jeyne had her steered away and out of the room. The Graftons were judged after that and Jeyne pulled no punches. All over the age of fourteen were offered death or the wall. Most chose the wall but I was surprised to see some chose death. Many grovelled for forgiveness, others stood defiant in the face of punishment but regardless of how the acted Jeyne remained determined, every inch the Lady of the Vale, through it all.

Afterwards, a man who could only be Terrance Arryn was shown forward. Cunning, let him see what happens to traitors before handing him the city. Also, seriously, Westeros genetics were weird because this guy is several branches removed from Jeyne in the family tree but they could pass as cousins!

“Ser Terrance Arryn. When I proclaimed the Grafton line attainted, you alone rallied to my banner. It was your heroic actions that saved Gulltown from destruction!” declared Jeyne. Bullcrap, he waited for Grafton to betray him then betrayed Grafton right back.

“I merely did my duty as your kinsman,” replied Ser Terrance, full of false modesty.

“A duty you performed admirably. It is my decision to raise you to Lord of Gulltown, do you accept?”

“It would be my greatest honour to rule Gulltown in your name, Lady Arryn,” he said, bowing once more. Around the room, Grafton faces glared at the man with hate.

“Then I do pronounce you Lord Terrance Arryn of Gulltown! My your line rule fairly and justly from this moment until the end of time!”


	18. The Vale - Chapter 16

Naturally, Lord Arryn’s elevation warranted a feast. As a royal and cousin of the current ruler of the Vale, I was exempt from helping with the preparations but it was pretty much a requirement that I stay to attend. My stay in the Vale had lasted much longer than I thought it would and had involved considerably more fighting and sieging than I’d been expecting.

Word had gotten back to Viserys and he wanted me back in the capital.

Awesome.

That knowledge hung over my like the sword of Damocles. That he was angry with me was a given. The question was how angry and whether I could navigate my way into a chance to explain without Alicent present and muttering in his ear. To distract myself, I offered to play chauffeur to Lady Rhea who had business in Runestone and had never ridden on a dragon before.

Besides, Syrax could use the exercise. She’d done nothing but swim, fish and terrify the local populace and I had no intention of creating the Syrax of the original time line. Not that Syrax approved of my ongoing mission to prevent her from becoming the laziest dragon in existence, I think she would love the idea of having dinner delivered right to her face every day.

As much as it pains me to admit now, I hadn’t set out to acquire Syrax. I’d wanted Silverwing for the associations with Good Queen Alysanne. I’d set off on the mountain that day with tips from the locals as to where she’d been seen last and sheer determination, only to run across Syrax a mile into my trek. She followed me across the Dragonmont making screeching noises the entire way. I never found found Silverwing and Syrax had been very insistent. 

And now? I wouldn’t chose Silverwing even if I had the choice. I’d grown fond of my lazy, greedy lizard.

It turned out that Rhea’s business was going to take a couple of days. Her nephew had been left in charge of the castle and had sent several alarmed letters back regarding a dispute he’d been asked to settle in Rhea’s absence. So I distracted myself with exploring Runestone. Or rather, seeing if I could solve the mystery of why the Keep seemed to ignore the erosion of the cliff. Asking the staff yielded no useful answers, most simply told me it had always been like that and always would be. A few old timers could remember a time when the cliff had been less eroded but it didn’t explain why the castle was ignoring it.

Flummoxed, my next stop was Rhea’s library. The Royces were an ancient House that could trace the ancestry back to the Bronze Kings in the Age of Heroes and they had the records to prove it. Records that were religiously maintained in defiance of the passage of time. 

“I must say, it’s nice to see that you take an interest in history, Your Grace,” Rhea’s ancient Maester told me as he retrieved several books he thought might pertain to the building of Runestone.

“Lady Royce is my aunt. I have been unforgivably rude in not learning her House’s history,” I replied. The maester nodded and continued sorting through the stacks.

“Ah, here it is! This book makes mention of several parts of the castle that no longer exist. According to Maester Hugh, they fell into the sea over a hundred years ago!” He handed me the book. The book went into some detail about upgrades and extensions a series of ambitious Bronze Kings had made to the keep after successfully conquering a portion of land that belonged to another king. A few years after the conquest there had been a great accident and the cliff had given way, plunging everything but the original keep into the seas below.

That… okay, that points to something odd going on here. 

“Everything but the original keep fell?” I asked. The Maester nodded. “Nobody investigated why?”

“The cliffs are treacherous, Your Grace. Waves smash boats into the rocks and the current can pull even the strongest swimmers beneath the waves. They’ve no need to besides, fishing has always been poor here,” he explained.

He left me to my reading after that. Most of the books were more interested in the different kings that had occupied Runestone and what political pressures had lead to their changing of the keep. Of all the different changes and alterations I was forced to return to one single fact. Anything that wasn’t the original keep eventually fell prey to the waves below or the various winter storms that blew in from the sea.

Well that was wrong actually. There was apparently the overgrown remains of an entirely new keep one of the later Bronze Kings had raised somewhere to the west. It had fallen into disuse after his death when his nephew moved the court back to Runestone. So what was so special about Runestone? Why did the Royces, a house of kings, keep coming back to it again and again? It was a fine keep for lords but kings?

I hit jackpot half way through a book about the myths and legends of the Vale by some guy called Maester Ulf. Brandon the Builder. 

This guy certainly got around. He’d apparently built Winterfell, the Wall, Storm’s End and now this book claims he was also involved in the building of Runestone. The Builder is said to have weaved spells into the foundations of Winterfell, perhaps he did so here? If so, perhaps I could see them if I took Syrax down. A quick check with the servant told me Rhea was still hip deep in the dispute her nephew had fouled up so I gave the order for Syrax to be saddled and changed into my riding outfit.

I didn’t head straight to the cliffs. It was a beautiful day so I let Syrax play amongst the clouds for a while, allowing myself to relax on her back as she chased any bird unfortunate to cross her path. 

Eventually I nudged her towards the cliffs and the defiant spit of land that bore Runestone. Which was when Syrax began behaving very strangely. I could feel a change run through her body as she moved in closer. She was hanging back as if the cliffs were scaring her. I rubbed the back of her head and cooed reassuringly at her. It still took five minutes of darting back and forth before she summoned the nerve to take me closer, although I could tell she still wasn’t happy.

As I came in closer, I saw the slabs. Or at least, the bottom of them. The top halves were covered in dirt and soil from the overhang of the cliff. They were huge! How had everyone missed them? Then I realised. Ships avoided this stretch of the bay if they came here at all, they docked further east at a small town that fell under the Royce’s purview and nobody actually standing on the cliff could see them due to the overhang.

That was no accident, surely?

But the cliff had eroded slowly, so had the slabs been buried? Did they form a perfect ring around the keep?

Syrax fought against me as I urged her closer but I needed to see what the deal with those slabs were. No book had mentioned them, no servant had seen them as worth mentioning - surely someone had found them before?

Oh, more evidence for Brandon being responsible for this! There was definitely some kind of runes etched on there, although with the way Syrax was avoiding the cliff face it made it hard see. A few light strikes with the whip and I managed to get her to hold her position opposite one of the slabs, massive wings beating at a pace most would say impossible. Up close, they were even more awe inspiring. Each as tall as a man and as broad as twice that, they were engraved with the ancient spiky runes of the first men.

They’d definitely been buried, I could see the way their sheer weight had pushed through the rock over time. A shiver interrupted me and I wished I’d brought my cloak. It had seemed to so nice out earlier so I hadn’t thought to. Carefully, I unfastened myself from Syrax’s saddle and gripped her horns, hauling myself closer to the runes. The slabs themselves were freezing. I could feel them through my glove as I ran my hand along the stones, tracing the etchings…

Ice flowed through me, freezing me to the bone. First there was pain, such pain, and then blessed numbness. I felt as if I was drowning in the cold, my throat burning as I attempted to breath. Syrax gave a bellow of rage and dived, almost flinging me from her back. I somehow held on, more out of muscle memory than any real thought from myself. I could see my breath in the air despite the blazing sun above. We hit the water and I was thrown clear of my mount. The ice burned again and I screamed, even as felt water fill my lungs.

And then just as soon as the cold had come, it left me. I broke the surface of the water and swam forwards, wrapping my arm around Syrax. She gave a bellow of something I almost thought was fear and then…

Heat. Heat like standing next to Syrax’s flames. I burned in it, cooking and boiling in my own skin. Trapped as it grew inside me until I was sure I would blister with the intensity of it. It’s oppressiveness drove the air from my longs, robbing me of my ability to scream. I wanted to cry, to yell, to beg whoever was listening to make it all stop. I drowned in the heat, in the blazing fire that rose within in me until it burned itself out finally, leaving me in the cinders.

“What do you mean you don’t kn-”

“-buy us some time-”

“-broken at least-”

I opened my eyes. I was in a Maester tower, I realised, brain fuzzily making connections. What had happened? My limbs felt as if someone had tied weights to them, my head felt as if it was filled with wool and my eyes burned and stung. I tried to push myself upright but found myself choking and coughing.

“Your Grace! You have awoken!” I twisted my neck and grimaced at the ache it caused in my muscles and the brief feeling of nausea at the movement. 

“What happened?” I rasped as the Maester gave rapid fire orders to someone I couldn’t quite see.

“We don’t know, your dragon bore you back to the castle. You had a fever and were unconscious for several days.”

Days!? What the hell happened? 

“The feast?” I asked, grimacing as my throat gave a throb of pain. It felt like someone had taken sandpaper to my throat. The Maester pressed blessedly cool water to my lips and I drank greedily.

“Slow sips, Your Grace, you will make yourself sick otherwise. As for the feast, Lady Rhea sent word you were ill and Lady Jeyne insisted on delaying it until you recovered.”

I took slower sips and mulled that over. There was a clatter and the door flew open to reveal Rhea, lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance. She strode across the room and waited with folded arms as I finished the last of the water.

“What happened? According to the Maester you were perfectly fine when you mounted Syrax.”

That was the million dollar ques- The Slabs!

I’d touched them. Vague memories of the bitter, biting cold that had come from nowhere and heat that had followed. How Syrax had dove into the sea, away from the slabs and their strange etchings. Now how to explain to Rhea her castle had assaulted me? I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off.

“You are young. You think yourself invincible. Let me assure you though that you are not, the next time you feel ill, tell someone. A simple fever can kill if you ignore it!” she barked. I sighed, that worked better than telling her about the slabs. I suppose that answered the questions I’d had about Runestone though and whether Brandon the Builder had raised it. Magic. Magic created by one of the most legendary figures in Westerosi history and it was in plain view of anyone brave enough to steer a boat up to the coast.

What else was I missing?

“I apologise, Aunt Rhea. I also apologise for delaying the feast, I will fly you to Gulltown on Syrax first thing tomorrow,” I promised.

“You most certainly will not! You will be getting in the wheel house and Syrax can fly herself. The Maester said your fever was the worst he’d ever seen, riding Syrax will simply make things worse!”

I grimaced. I hated wheelhouses. Perhaps I could charm Rhea into letting me at least ride a horse to Gulltown?


	19. The Vale - Chapter 17

I was not able to convince Lady Rhea to allow me to ride a horse. The Bronze Tyrant kept me in the wheelhouse the entire way back to Gulltown and even the brief trips outside had her standing not far away, ready to raise the alarm if something happened. In one way it was genuinely touching, I’d won myself an ally in Lady Royce when I’d told her the truth about Daemon and I knew her over protective manner was born from worry.

She hadn’t brought it up and neither had I but we both knew that Targaryens didn’t just catch a fever. We didn’t get colds, sore throats or random aches like the rest of Westeros, it had been one of the corner stones of Jaehaerys’ doctrine of existentialism after all. Any time we got ill it was either deliberate or something so nasty that just catching it meant our lives were in danger. I knew she’d had her staff questioned but I doubt she’d find anything. It was those slabs, the ones I was certain had something to do with The Builder.

I’d finally solved one mystery but it had promptly given me another, greater one to muse on. It would have to take the backseat though. My time in the Vale was coming to an end and I needed to ensure I had the Vale lords loyalty.

“Rhaenyra! Have you recovered?” asked Jeyne, greeting us as I finally escaped the mobile prison Rhea had forced me in to. Lord Terrance was stood behind her, flanked by a younger version of himself that could only be Isembard Arryn. Hopefully he’d be a lot more sympathetic to Jeyne’s will this time round with the memory of his families raising in his mind.

“Well enough. I wanted to fly but I was strictly forbidden.” As if on cue, Syrax plunged us briefly into shadow as she flew over the city towards the sea. I wondered if the harbour master was prepared to deal with navigating ships around a dragon.

“By the Maester’s orders!” huffed Rhea from behind me. I was mildly impressed to see no tense reaction from Jeyne as Rhea bowed to her liege lady, instead she managed a small but seemingly genuine smile.

“Lady Rhea’s letter said a fever?” I nodded as we made our way inside. Her kinsman fell in step with us. “Forgive me but Ser Laenor was of the opinion that the Maester must be mistaken. It was all I could do to keep him in Gulltown and stop him from alerting every lord here that something was wrong.”

“My husband is right, Targaryen’s rarely get ill and it is normally serious when it does occur, the Maester said the fever was one of the worst he’d seen. It has passed though and I have recovered my strength.” Let’s leave the bit about poison out. I don’t want to give Jeyne any more reasons to be snotty about Rhea and implying she may have missed a poisoning attempt on the Crown Princess was pretty up there on things to get snotty about.

Jeyne nodded and let the matter lie. It seemed the delay I’d accidentally caused had worked to Jeyne’s advantage though. She’d apparently used it to put pressure on her Lords to make their way to Gulltown and within a day of my arrival they’d begun slowly trickling in. I was weary of them. They supported Jeyne nominally but these were the lords that could not have cared less had Jeyne been replaced by Ser Arnold. Treachery by inaction was, unfortunately, not punishable in Westeros unless it was truly egregious.

They were all quick to grovel forgiveness and profusely thank me for exposing Ser Arnold’s lack of honour and some of them even managed to make it seem halfway convincing. I’d barely gotten a chance to assure Laenor I was okay before Jeyne, with the most powerful political actors in the Vale present, called a meeting so that we could put the notion of my scouts to them and raise support for the first wide scale proactive move against the clans in a generation.

“A bold plan, Your Grace,” said Lord Jon Melcolm, after I’d finished outlining the bare bones of the plan. 

“It does not matter if the plan is bold, it will fail as all notions of removing the clans have failed in the past!” sneered Gawen Corbray. Lord Gerold had been right. He wasn’t willing to rise for a man who was already on his way to the wall but he sure was bitter about the Graftons getting overthrown. He’d gone so far as to take as many of the displaced house under his protection as he could. 

A problem for the future.

“We’ve all fought the clans, true, and we’ve all hunted them and lost men for it. Yet no one has seen an effort on the scale in a long time and that campaign saw the High Road cleared for nigh on fifty years!” The current Lord Lynderly was ancient but his voice held steel.

“And if we get enough of the mountains cleared, we can expand mining operations and dig in. We can push them back.” Bless Lord Denys. He’d lost a sister to the mountain clans and had taken it hard. He likely viewed the scouts as a vector for revenge.

“It required the entire Vale to be raised to clear the High Road! We can not afford such a campaign like that!” Lord Corbray shouted. I was concerned to see it looked like he had some support in that sentiment. Still, if that was the only objection he could come up with…

“Ser Laenor and I have been discussing funding. With Arryn, Velaryon and Targaryen funds we can keep a small, elite force fighting in the Vale for quite some time,” The new Lord of Gulltown informed us all.

“So we can afford to waste the money! You have done nothing to convince me that this will work, that I will not just be sending men to their deaths in those Seven forsaken mountains.”

“Lord Corbray, calm yourself!” Jeyne commanded. The Lord threw himself back into his chair, eyes blazing with hate and looking very much like a child having a tantrum.

“Forgive me, I’m very much eager for a chance to expand my iron mines but I am confused as to how this will work. From the way you’ve explained it these will be Vale men under the permanent command of the Crown? I do not see the reason.” Lord Belmore’s tone was full of false confused politeness. He’d been one of those nodding along with Lord Corbray moments ago.

“The Vale as it stands is much weakened by the Mountain clans. In raising a permanent force to fight them back, we strengthen the Vale immeasurably but the simple matter is that the Vale can not afford to do this. My cousin funds two thirds of the unit, will only allow direct command of it to men of the Vale and will only deploy it outside the Vale in times of great strife,” explained Jeyne.

“So in practice, we retain control over it at all times, it’s stays in the Vale unless Her Grace calls it to service, we pay considerably less than we would for a force of it’s size and nature and we get all the benefits with little downsides,” Rhea’s voice cut in, voice as dry as the Dornish desert, as she spoke for the first time. Rhea and Jeyne’s shaky alliance had put many Vale lords on the back foot but it was still early days. Case in point, the venomous look Jeyne shot her for interrupting.

“And how does Her Grace benefit from the arrangement?” asked Lord Lucas, in the same tone of false confusion.

“A professional and experienced fighting force that will aid me if I call the banners of Westeros,” I replied. I examined faces. Lord Gerold and Lord Denys were ride or die at this point. Lord Terrance would go along with anything Jeyne suggested up to and probably including setting her up as God-Queen of the Vale. Actually out of all the Lords present, only Lord Gawen seemed set against it. Even his nominal supporters Lord Godric Hunter and Lucas Belmore seemed cautiously interested.

“And the name for this fighting force?” asked Victor Lynderly, gauging the room to be in favour.

“I have a suggestion,” said Rhea, turning her gaze to her liege lady. “The Falcons.”

Something told me Jeyne liked that idea, from the way she swelled with pride and damn near started preening. At that point, it was simply a matter of sorting out who would pay for what and who’s sons would be given precedent for command. I left that to Jeyne, she knew her lords better than I. Surprisingly, she asked that I stay behind to discuss a matter of ‘some importance’ with her as the Lords filed out.

“It is an awkward request,” she said finally. I poured myself a cup of juice and nodded for her to continue. That she seemed jumpy about whatever she was about to ask me had me worried.

“You understand, cousin, I do not wish to insult you with what I ask but… I would not ask if it were not important,” she said. My mind was already running through the worst possible scenarios right now. Spit out Jeyne, you’re going to give me a heart attack! “I need you to take an extra lady back with you.”

My sigh of relief was audible. Oh thank god, at least she wasn’t telling me she was actually marrying Aegon or something after all this.

“Of course I can take an extra lady back with me to King’s Landing. Falena has already proved her weight in gold!” I told her. Jeyne did not look reassured. “Which of your ladies did you want me to take?”

“Maris Grafton.” My train of thought braked hard.

“The mouthy one from the hall after the siege?” I asked.

“Mouthy? Odd way to describe her but accurate, I suppose. Yes, that would be who I am referring to.” Damn, I really needed to stop with the anachronisms. “I understand her house is in disgrace currently but…”

Oh, that unhappy look tells me you two have history.

“Are you using me to clear an old lover out of the Vale in a way she can’t protest at?” I asked. Blunt but I doubt Jeyne would be overly offended, we’d grown closer these past two months. I watched with delight as she went a vibrant red.

“Love- No! Not Maris! Not that I nev- I mean Jess is the-” I waved my hand to cut her off as I snorted in laughter. She shut up and glared at me but it lacked the bite she reserved for those she was truly angry at.

“Maris was one of my ladies when Lord Yorbert was my regent. She was the only one who stood up to him. ‘Mouthy’ even then.” She said after my giggling had died down to nothing.

Oh, now I got it. She was Jeyne’s Rhaenys. No matter what happened, however much of a bad idea it was to trust her, she couldn’t forget what she’d done. Like Rhaenys for me, Jeyne couldn’t live with herself if she had a chance to return the favour and did not take it.

“I understand, Jeyne, more than you could guess. I’ll take your first love back with me and you can tell her you’ve played the gallant knight in her defence.” She went red again and I couldn’t resist another parting shot. “I thought the knight was supposed to protect the lady from the dragon though,”

That earned me a slap on the arm that sent it numb for a few minutes after. Not that I cared, I was too busy laughing at Jeyne’s excellent tomato impression and stuttering insistence that it ‘wasn’t like that Rhaenyra, shut up!’.

With the last of the politicking out of the way, I tried to force myself to enjoy my remaining time in the Vale. I’d done everything I’d needed to do and more. Jeyne was mine, I’d gotten myself the first of my armies and started the process of strengthening the Vale. That Viserys was likely five minutes away from resurrecting the Black Dread and flying over to find me in sheer rage was a downside I wasn’t looking forward to navigating.

The moment the feast had ended and the Lords began to go home, a pit of dread had opened in my stomach. I almost cried when Jeyne told me Lord Gerold would be coming back to King’s Landing with us. She’d already promised to send a Vale delegation to court to at least balance out some of Alicent’s influence but I’d assumed they would be following on a few month’s behind as most Lord’s were still only selecting which heirs and second sons they would send.

“News of the King’s displeasure has reached us here, Cousin. Lord Gerold knows your father, he knows what to say to mitigate his anger.” Had been her explanation when I’d questioned her on it. I’d never been so glad for her decision to hide my illness than in that moment. It had been a risky move on her part but had it gotten back to Viserys… I dread to think. I was still feeling sick with nerves when our much increased party boarded the ship that would bear us home to King’s Landing.


	20. The Vale - Chapter 18

“Will you miss the Vale, Lord Gerold?” I asked, looking for any conversation topic to distract myself from the upcoming shit show. The docks of King’s Landing were in sight and the travel back had been smooth sailing and we’d made good time. In fact, the only thing that had marred the trip back had been Maris Grafton’s ongoing reaction to her new position in life. She hadn’t taken Jeyne’s command well and in the end I’d handed her over to Falena with a heartfelt apology.

“Aye, I reckon I will but it’s time my boy got some real experience running the Redfort. He’s a man grown now and I’m not going to live forever,” he replied. “Besides, it would have been me or Denys and I know Denys is looking forward to your Falcons too much to sit in King’s Landing playing politics.”

I snorted without meaning to. Lord Denys had barely waited until the feast was over to start sounding out who could send what men and where they could source the equipment needed from.

“You needn’t be so worried, Your Grace, Viserys would be a fool to openly censure you for defending the rights of one of his paramount vassals,” said Lord Gerold after a while, having picked up on my dread as the docks came closer.

“Not as reassuring as you wish it to be, Viserys is a fool,” I muttered after a bitter laugh. “But even if you’re right, that just means his punishment will be private and tailored to fucking whatever plans he thinks I have in the works.”

Lord Gerold just snorted. If he was bothered by my blatant disrespect for Viserys, he didn’t show it. Then again, Jeyne had asked him to come with me solely to make sure Viserys would know I had her support behind me, so she’d evidently briefed him on the matter and he had met the man before. For all that I hoped a private word with Viserys would resolve the matter, I knew that with two months to twist my actions to suit her agenda, Alicent had likely already denied me that route. I had little to no chance of convincing him that I was in the right before Alicent conned him into a very public dressing down.

I was keen to avoid public humiliation and Lord Gerold was my insurance.

If we were to divide the Court up properly, it would be into five distinct factions. The Blacks that look to me for leadership and the Greens that look to Alicent’s leadership are the obvious and most powerful. Whilst not the largest factions, even combined, our little war meant each of us had cultivated quite a little bit of political pull in one place because anyone who wished to actively involve themselves in politics had to have picked a side.

Surprisingly, the actual largest of the factions were the Doves. They were the neutral lords, the Neds of the world, who would just like to pretend there wasn’t a succession war brewing under their noses and stay at home with the kids and wife. I had always wondered how Viserys had ignored the foundations of the Dance of Dragons being laid right before his eyes and the best I could come up with is blaming these guys. Their faction stretched from the southern Reach to the northern Vale and they all, adamantly, did not want to have a war. Viserys probably assumed that as long as they existed, we would be prevented from truly fighting one another.

Which made the War of Quills make a lot more sense now that I think about it.

The next of the factions of note were the War Hawks. These were mostly minor lordlings, spares and lowborn knights that wanted to fight and didn’t care who they went up against. They wanted glory against an enemy and they weren’t picky about the enemy. They didn’t often raise their voices in court as they were Daemon’s biggest supporters outside of Corlys himself, but when they did bother to turn up it was normally with demands for war and sanctions; with Dorne or The Triarchy being their usual focus of attention.

The smallest faction were the Seahorses, as I liked to refer to them. They were mostly made up of Stormlords that traded with Corlys heavily, supplying him the timber that the shipwrights in Hull consumed in vast amounts. Interestingly, they also included the last of Boremund Baratheon’s lords that had supported Rhaenys at the Great Council. They mostly deferred to the Blacks as putting me on the Throne meant putting Laenor’s children on it in turn but I wasn’t foolish enough to assume it was me they were loyal too.

This meant the Blacks, in theory, had four dragons, the War Hawks had one dragon, the Greens had the potential for four dragons and the Doves had nothing.

Which meant Viserys was forced to play politics to keep the Dove faction alive because if war looked likely and they had no dragons for aid, they’d abandon him to whatever faction could seize control of the capital. If Viserys looked to be leaning towards giving into Green pressure or I looked to be too risky to follow, the Doves would start jumping towards Alicent like rats off a drowning ship. If I began making significant inroads into the Green support or Aegon disgraced himself, I’d suddenly be hip deep in Dove lords that were suddenly very willing to uphold Viserys’ wishes.

That need to prevent the collapse of the Doves was what Lord Gerold and Jeyne were betting my standing in court on.

Which meant they were also betting on Viserys pulling his head out of his behind long enough to see that. Is it too late to go back to the Eyrie?

I was happy to see the smallfolk had turned out in droves to welcome me back. They lined the streets and cheered for the ‘Good Princess Rhaenyra’ and the ‘Brave Prince Laenor’ which, I’m not going to deny, felt really good. Evidently Marya’s nascent PR scheme was still going well, I’d have to find some sort of reward for her because this was beyond what I had been expecting from three months of work.

The fact that Viserys had sent an escort to ensure we didn’t get lost on our way to the Throne room was less nice. Evidently, Alicent was taking no chances that I could wriggle out of punishment. Even worse was that Ser Criston Cole was leading it with a triumphant smile on his face, a nasty look in his eye and an awful lot of Green knights backing him up.

“Princess Rhaenyra, I have been ordered to escort you to your Father,” he told me, as we dismounted the horses. I made a show of stretching, as if the words he had spoken were no great worry. 

“You have our thanks, Ser Cole,” Laenor replied with false cheer, earning himself a dirty look from the white knight. I dispatched Falena and Maris to my rooms with orders to locate Marya and the Strong twins before taking an excruciatingly long time to organise the belongings we’d picked up in the Eyrie and to make sure Seasmoke and Syrax had actually flown to the Dragonpit and not bunked off to go swimming.

Commanding dragons was a bit hit and miss sometimes. As Crown Princess, I simply couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Syrax. Or, more likely, Syrax happened to something.

The fact I could almost hear Criston grinding his teeth at the delay had nothing to do with it.

Viserys evidently hadn’t appreciated the wait either because when we finally entered the Throne room he looked livid. Alicent had outdone herself. I could only spot a few Black lords amongst the overwhelming amount of Doves and Greens. My heart jumped when we passed the Velaryon party and I caught Laena’s eye. The tall girl was pale and very, very worried and if even Laena could spot the incoming stitch up…

“Daughter, you left so quickly for the Vale of Arryn, I fear you neglected to inform me of your departure.” The King’s tone was icy and Alicent had never looked more smug so I elected to spring my trump card straight away instead of waiting and baiting Alicent even further. I waved Lord Gerold forward.

“Father, I beg your forgiveness but I departed for the Vale to ride to my Cousin’s aid. Foul treachery would have seen her usurped and her own kinsman responsible.” Although I was reasonably sure everyone would have known the circumstances of Ser Arnold’s little rebellion by now the Throne room still exploded into shocked whispers and cries as the gossip sprang up. Viserys glared them all into silence before turning his eyes on Lord Gerold.

“The Princess speaks truly, Your Grace. Ser Arnold Arryn laid siege to the Eyrie itself. I can scarcely contain the shame that it required the Princess to expose his traitorous actions and not her loyal lords.”

Viserys’ livid expression became a scowl of annoyance, he couldn’t exactly yell at me when there was a Lord of the Vale telling him, without actually saying it, that Jeyne had my back. I was glad to note Alicent had realised that because she suddenly looked significantly less triumphant. Honestly, did she think I would just waltz in here without backup? Scratch that, she probably had. I hadn’t exactly shown any particular head for politics before my marriage and she had no way of knowing that it was me and not Corlys pulling the strings behind the Black resurgence I’d been engineering at court before I’d flown off into a small war.

Even though I had to admit I was surprised. Lord Gerold was essentially denying his and Lord Denys’ attempt at an intervention, one that proved I hadn’t been needed in the Vale to rescue Jeyne, at the expense of his own honour.

“I can only praise both Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor’s actions in aiding us in rooting out the traitors and their collaborators. Ser Laenor personally lead a band of knights that put the reforming Grafton army to flight and prevented Humfrey Grafton from fleeing justice at great personal risk. Princess Rhaenyra saved hundreds of lives in the siege of Gulltown by breaking the enemy formations with minimal loss of life. Truly, I do not exaggerate when I say the all of the Vale of Arryn are in their debt.”

More murmurs of surprise and a smattering of applause led by Laena, who’s smile was reminiscent of Syrax spotting an easy meal. I had no idea she could look so… predatory. Viserys still looked unhappy but at least Alicent’s expression now matched it as she realised that even if Viserys was against me, the Lords she’d gathered for my supposed humiliation were not and they were even some of her Greens nodding along in approval at my actions.

“Is this so?” Viserys’ asked, a decidedly unfriendly look in his eyes. “Then I can only praise my Daughter’s swift actions in defending both the Lady of the Vale and the King’s Peace.”

“Thank you Father, but I only did my duty as a Targaryen and Heir to the Iron Throne,” I replied, trying not to smirk as my parting shot at Alicent struck true.

Oh, she definitely wants to strangle me now.

I may have gotten out of punishment in public but given the fact Viserys’ anger still had not abated by the time I left for my rooms, I was still going to get it in the neck in private. Still, my success in the Vale had inspired me to properly plan out a procession through Westeros. Of course, no one else had a succession war to interfere with right now but it never hurt to make it personal by showing up at their house with a fire-breathing dragon. Planning that was abruptly ended when Viserys stormed into my rooms and put my ladies to flight. Even Laena and Laenor had been sent away like small children so that Viserys could have a ‘private’ word with his daughter. He hadn’t bought Criston, at least. This conversation would be going very differently if he’d bought Criston.

“I can scarcely put into words how disappointed I am in you, Rhaenyra,” he told me, after he’d tried and failed to stare me out. I settled for rubbing the pain from my fingers and fixing him with my patented neutral court face. Anger flickered over his features and my own rose to match it. I swallowed it down.

“You come to court and tell me you’re refusing to fulfil the only duty I am asking of you currently. You gallivant around with the Strong brothers, set my lords fighting amongst themselves and then just as quickly you race off to the Vale, a place you had been told was suffering from the plague!” his voice rose to a shout but I refused to cower. Instead, I said nothing, very aware that my temper and his let loose always resulted in screaming matches.

“You start a war, raise an army on our doorstep and then come home as if you have done nothing wrong! What were you thinking, girl!?” At my silence he stood and slammed his hands down on the armrests of my chair. I couldn’t help it, I flinched. He didn’t notice, too lost in his anger.

“I make you my heir against the advice of all of my lords! I defend you against all those who believe you are not worthy to rule! And this is how you repay me!? Say something, girl, you are not a mute!”

“I defended my kin. I am defending my right to the Throne.” I replied, keeping my voice level. Viserys snorted in anger and threw himself back down in his chair. It creaked ominously at his weight colliding with it.

“Your right to the Throne comes from me. I gave it to you and I can strip it from you just as easily.” He wanted me to beg, wanted me on the back foot and worrying about whether he meant it. His violet eyes bored into mine and I refused to give him what he wanted even though I knew it would cost me. I would not let him derail everything I had worked for by constantly waving this threat in front of me.

“Strip me of my right to the throne now and you sign my execution order.”

“Seven hells, Rhaenyra! Alicent is your family! Aegon is your family! Neither will kill you for the damned throne!”

“Truly!? Aegon is terrified of me! Alicent hates me! And we all know how that happened don’t we, Father?” His lips peeled back into a snarl.

“You and I both know where those rumours came from, Rhaenyra. I seem to recall similar ones regarding yourself,” he said coldly and I saw red.

“Oh, without a doubt, except I never actually fucked him, unlike your whore of a wif-”

My airflow was suddenly cut off as Viserys wrapped his hand around my throat. He let out a hoarse scream as I struggled for air, slapping weakly at his arm. He wrenched me to my feet and my back slammed painfully into the wall. Then his face cleared and he dropped me. My legs gave out and the floor rushed to meet me, my hands impacted the floor with a sting I barely felt as I gasped down precious air.

He hooked his hands under my arms, trying to pull me to my feet. The door slammed open and Lorent Marbrand stepped in, sword drawn. Viserys looked up and shook his head. The White Cloak nodded and stepped out. As if the King hadn’t just choked out his daughter, as if nothing was wrong. 

I wanted to scream and throw something and…

My throat burned and my hand ached. I pushed his help away and used the chair to pull myself to my feet, breathing still ragged. His shaking hand under my chin forced me too look at him. His face was pale but I could tell he was still angry.

“Leave King’s Landing. Go back to Dragonstone. Stay there. Be the Heir instead of making a spectacle of yourself,” said Viserys quietly. “And if you ever cast such aspersions on Alicent again, you had better hope Daemon wants you on the Stepstones because you certainly won’t be wanted here,”

I left him there, sitting and looking at his hands as if he had only just noticed they existed. I rode to the Dragonpit, mounted Syrax and made for Dragonstone. I should have told Laenor, I should have organised my ladies, I should have warned Lord Gerold but I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

I was numb and aching and scared.

So I went home, the only place I felt safe. He would not take it from me.


	21. The Vale - Chapter 19

I awoke to Joffrey shaking me awake, eyes wide with worry and shock. Blearily, I peered about. Two maids huddled by the door, each pale and grim-looking. Joffrey himself looked wild eyed, his dress not entirely as put together I was used too. The maids must have woken him or interrupted his usual morning rituals.

“Thank the seven. Thank the seven. Where is Gerardys!?” His shout made me flinch and I cursed myself when he turned back to me, looking stricken. There was no way he hadn’t felt me jump with his hand still on my shoulder. The maids fled at his shout, leaving me alone with him. Head foggy with sleep, I pulled myself out of bed and staggered over to the juice the maids had evidently been in the process of bringing.

“Your Grace?” he asked, voice fearful. I ignored him in favour of downing as much juice as possible. My throat ached, making the act of swallowing painful. Annoyed, I raised my hand to it and rubbed at it as if I could erase last night. The door swung open to admit Gerardys, the Maester was panting as if he had run all the way from his rooms. When he saw me he stopped dead, then his eyes went lower and widened with horror.

“Your Grace! Please lie back down and allow me to attend to you,” he all but babbled. I finished my cup and couldn’t quite keep the grimace off of my face.

“I am fine,” I lied, pain in my throat flaring as I spoke. I felt a hand on my shoulder, steering me to the bed. 

“Your Grace, someone has tried to strangle you!” Gerardys sounded somewhat hysterical so I allowed him to steer me to the bed. I didn’t let him force me to lie down but I put up with his tests, even if it was embarrassing to have Joffrey in the corner whilst he poked and prodded. After he left, Joffrey removed himself from the wall and stepped forward, falling to his knees in front of me.

“Your Grace, I have failed you.”

“Is it really that bad?” I rasped, wincing as I realised that if I was having trouble speaking it most certainly was. He raised his dark eyes and stared at me incredulously.

“Your Grace, the maids thought you dead! Strangled in your sleep!” He looked stricken and upset. I sighed and closed my eyes, hands trying to massage away a headache. I don’t know how he thought I’d been injured but he was clearly blaming himself.

“I am as well as can be expected. You may consider yourself innocent of any failing, the man who did this was one beyond your reach.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it was Viserys. I had never seen him like that. I knew he had a temper, had seen it directed at Daemon and various courtiers but… Gods, never at me and never that bad. Joffrey was silent for sometime as his eyes flickered this way and that, trying to figure out who I meant. I knew he’d hit on the right answer when his eyes widened and his face contorted into horror.

“I believe I understand, Your Grace. I will have the castle prepared to accommodate your return,” he told me, face neutral and tone unfriendly. He was almost stalking as he left, free hand going for a sword he no longer wore. There was the Knight of Kisses, the man willing to fight a Princess over the Prince. The man willing to fight a King over a Princess. He reached the door before I called out to him.

“Do not do anything rash, Ser Joffrey,” he nodded, eyes conveying his rage and unhappiness.

I rose once to change into a night shirt with the help of the maids before falling back to sleep. I felt heavy and drained and tired but no amount of rest seemed able to drive it away. I should get up and attend to Dragonstone, I likely had a stack of reports to make my way through. I should get up and go see Wisdom Jerrett and how he is coming along with the Guild campus. I should get up and find Joffrey to plan how I would remain in contact with the Blacks whilst I found myself unwelcome at court.

I had taken a bad situation and gotten close to salvaging it and then thrown it all away because my temper had gotten the better of me once again. The Rhaenyra in me had gotten the better of me once again. He knew… he knew what Daemon had done to me, knew that the rumours Alicent had spread weren’t true. Just as he knew that the rumours regarding Alicent were true. That she had entered the relationship willingly and had been quite charmed by him for the longest time. To conflate the two situations…

I dashed away my tears and gave into the sudden exhaustion I felt.

I awoke to feather light touches skimming over my face, tracing the curve of my cheek, before moving down and settling on my neck. I opened my eyes in confusion. Laena hung over me, cascades of silver ringlets curtaining her face. Her face bore an intense expression and her eyes were full of rage I had never seen in the girl before. In the low light of my rooms she was hauntingly beautiful in a way that caused my heart to lurch painfully and my mouth go dry. Realising I was awake, she snatched her hand back as if burned before favouring me with a small smile. That rage didn’t quite leave her eyes though. 

“Sickbed or not, I’m not kissing you,” she said and I bit back a groan. Of course she’d noticed. She was only ever observant when it was inconvenient for her to be.

“Laena,” came Joffrey’s voice, sharp with warning. 

“A joke, Ser Joffrey, one can not be serious all the time. Besides, I am the least likely to judge her proclivities,”

I pushed past her and pulled myself halfway to upright, leaning against the impressively carved headboard. A dragon wing poked my cheek. Laena shifted her position on the bed as I pulled at the covers and tried to smile, managing to look vaguely constipated. She seemed to be struggling to remove her gaze from my neck. She was still dressed in her riding gear and smelt of dragon and sea salt. Joffrey looked as grim as ever and still just as angry as he had when he had left this morning. I risked a glance out the window and was surprised to find it pitch black outside.

Had I really slept the whole day away?

“My proclivities?” I croaked, questioningly. Joffrey sighed.

“My dolt of a brother thought you wanted me in your bed. Flattering, I suppose,” she told me. This time I could see the look Joffrey cast at her, full of frustration.

“Laena, this is not the time for japes.”

“Oh come on, Joff, both she and my brother have… inconvenient desires. You can’t deny hiding it will be the most important thing you do.”

“Her Grace is loyal to your brother,” Joffrey told her as I resigned myself to a painfully awkward conversation. “But even if she were not, now would not be the time to have this conversation.”

“Her Grace very much desires the company of her husband and has taken no lovers,” he continued after giving Laena time to process that information. “Of any sort.”

Ser Joffrey, I am going to do something very nice for you in the future. Although at least she isn’t full of pity. I don’t think I could handle pity right now.

“Oh by the seven! I beg your apologies, I must have sounded as vain as-”

I waved her apology off, feeling only slightly guilty at the deceit. Gods, it had been so odd to realise my sexuality had shifted. I had thought myself past surprises like that when I awoke in Rhaenyra’s body but fourteen years and the start of puberty later and I found my blood singing for a man.

Awkward to explain to the sister-in-law.

“Now that we’ve established I’m not a sexual harassment case waiting to happen, why are you here?”

“Sexual harassment?” she asked, frowning.

“A term Her Grace coined during her creation of the bureaucracy of Dragonstone. It’s quite simple to parse it’s meaning. Perhaps you could give Her Grace the news from the capital?” 

The urge to laugh ran through me. Laena was clever in her own way, the best dragon rider of our generation and if Rhaenys ever let her would make an excellent explorer but when it came to anything not dragons or flying, she could be remarkably ditzy. Case in point, accusing the Crown Princess of having an affair as a joke. The sad thing was that if she ever bothered to focus on politics she’d probably be very good at it, she understood people well when she bothered to.

“Oh! Laenor sent me ahead to tell you. Rumours abound in the capital of your falling out with the King and Laenor wanted to make sure your lords knew that it was over the Vale business. Regardless, Lord Gerold is in a fine temper and even the Greens are discontent about the fact you have been unofficially banished over defending the rights of a vassal.”

“And?” Joffrey prompted. Laena rolled her eyes. Something told me Laenor had drilled this into his Sister’s head repeatedly before letting her go, something about her wording was reminiscent of him.

“And Viserys issued a decree supporting every action you took, including the seizure of Gulltown. You have nearly the entire court in your corner and the smallfolk praising your name from Cracklaw Point to the Wendwater!”

“With no way to turn that good will into solid political gains,” I reminded them both. 

“Laenor says it’s not so! Lord Gerold is taking the lead with the Black faction in King’s Landing and many of your supporters have spoken about sending representatives to Dragonstone for your own court here and that’s just the courts reaction. Once the Lords Paramount hear the news there will be a second wave of condemnation for the King.”

“Then I trust Lord Gerold to handle it.”

At my dismissal, Laena and Joffrey shot each other surprised glances.

“That is… unlike you?” Laena said, her eyes worried.

“Her Grace is not well currently. Certainly once she has recovered she will resume her position in charge of the Black faction.”

“She is in the room, Joffrey.” I said as I laid back down and punched my pillow into a vaguely comfortable shape. “And she is going back to sleep.”

“Uh, there may be a small problem,” Laena’s tone was hesitant, as if she had bad news and suspected the messenger might very much get shot for delivering it. A sigh escaped me before I could stop it.

“Go ahead, ruin my evening.”

“Mother is here!” Laena said very quickly. I felt her weight leave the bed. I glared at my pillow. If Rhaenys were here it was a minor miracle hadn’t stormed my bedroom already.

“I thought it prudent to allow Laena to warn you rather than allow Lady Rhaenys to enter with you unaware.”

Joffrey, I don’t know how you did it but I’m going to make you tell me. Lady Rhaenys respects the laws of neither men nor gods, how did you get her to restrain herself for so long? I sat up again and glared at the worried looking Laena and the ever stoic Joffrey.

“Then it seems I must get dressed and receive Lady Rhaenys before she lays siege to my rooms.”

“Mother isn’t that bad, Rhaenyra,” Laena chuckled nervously. I shot her a dark look.

“Perhaps you can help Her Grace dress herself. I will ensure that Lady Rhaenys is aware that you will be attending to her shortly.”

I couldn’t be bothered with fashion and dress cuts so I asked Laena to find me a dress that wasn’t completely terrible and let her do most of the work when it came to pulling it on. It was clumsy and much slower than I really expected but then again, Laena had hardly played lady-in-waiting or maid before. 

“Rhaenyra, are you truly well?” she asked me softly as I dug around for something to conceal my neck with. I’d looked into what passed as a mirror and discovered why everyone was so concerned. My neck was riot of deep purple and blue, a very clear hand print dominated it. I didn’t bother answering her as I located a long red shawl and occupied myself with wrapping it about my neck. She sighed in annoyance at my silence but took my proffered arm.

Rhaenys was pacing the room when we finally got there, an untouched glass of wine on the low table she was supposed to be sitting at. When we entered she crossed the room and seized me by the shoulder, violet eyes studying me.

“Heard from my boy and half the court you flung yourself into two sieges, broke a quarantine and had a mighty row with Viserys over it all.” It wasn’t a question but a statement so I merely nodded. She turned to her daughter. “How bad?”

“Laenor says that-”

“No, Laena. How bad is whatever wound she’s hiding?” Laena’s eyes flickered between me and her mother, caught between a rock and a hard place, I realised. ”Don’t give me that look, something she did sent Viserys into a frenzy and I doubt it was catching this nonexistent plague.”

“I was not wounded in the Vale, Rhaenys,” I told her, then regretted it because my voice was still rough and painful. Rhaenys turned back to me, mouth set into an unhappy curl.

“Show her, Rhaenyra.” Traitor! I glared at Laena who merely looked stricken.

“Trust me, you are not leaving until I have a whole accounting of whatever idiocy you and Viserys have managed to argue your way into.”

I glared at her. Viserys was the idiot, not me. He was the one that refused to see reason, refused to see that his belief that family was family and would never harm you would end in mine or Aegon’s death. I removed the shawl and Rhaenys actually growled in anger.

“What. Happened?” she managed to choke out after a moment. Her face was mottled white and red with rage and her hands balling repeatedly into fists.

“Viserys was unhappy with my work in the Vale. He believed it to be an extension of the factionalism I have apparently caused and stirred up. He told me Alicent would never see me harmed and I told him Alicent hates me because she thinks I took Daemon from her.”

Rhaenys groaned in dismay.

“Rhaenyra, you know how he rea-”

“It’s true! She was fucking him and he broke it off because he wanted to be closer to the throne than Alicent could get him.”

In the corner of my eye I could see Laena looking thrilled. She probably hadn’t heard this gossip before and if she had, she probably hadn’t had it confirmed as completely true. Viserys had always come down hard on those that repeated the rumours.

“I know that. You know that. Half of King’s Landing bloody well knows that! Viserys blinds himself to it willingly and reacts badly when people make him confront it.” Then she sighed and dropped into the chair. “That being said he shouldn’t have laid a finger on you, provoked or not. If the political stage were not as it were I would be in King’s Landing by morn and would have an explanation from him.”

A flicker of alarm shot through me and even Laena moved to confront her mother, who merely held up a hand.

“I will not do anything rash. Mark my words though, that man is going to get a reckoning soon.”


	22. The Vale - Chapter 20

If I had thought Rhaenys and Laena’s reactions to be unduly angry, Laenor proved me wrong. He’d arrived back accompanying my ladies and the ships having initiated a graceful exit from King’s Landing and appointing Lord Celtigar and Lord Gerold as the nominal Black leaders in our absence.

That the King had ‘banished’ me for my actions in the Vale had been explained to him by Viserys himself who’d wrung his hands and listed the fact I had cared little for the plague warning, risked death by twitchy mercenaries, gotten caught up in two sieges and generally put myself at risk as the reason he’d been so angry. He’d reasoned that if I stayed at Dragonstone and ruled there it would be just as effective at showing the realm I could be heir than turning up at court at battling Alicent for influence over the Lords.

Funnily enough, he’d failed to mention the choking.

So Laenor had docked in Dragonstone and been greeted by his mother, his sister and his wife. Rhaenys had waited until Laenor had finished his explanation of his meeting with Viserys before pulling the shawl from my neck revealing the still ugly bruising. Laena had been forced to wrestle her brother to the ground to prevent him from flying Seasmoke straight back to King’s Landing in a rage.

“Hah! I was starting to have my doubts I’d ever see you in a Dragon Rage, Laenor,” she cackled, after he’d calmed down enough for Laena to stop sitting on him. One could almost hear the capital letters.

“Dragon rage? Really?” I asked dryly from my position behind a large glass of wine. This sounded like an interesting tidbit of lore. Hadn’t Viserys often blathered about waking the dragon in canon?

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had it explained to you, Rhaenyra?” Rhaenys asked before throwing her head back and laughing. “Of course you haven’t, Aemma wouldn’t have known and Viserys wouldn’t have cared.”

“Those of us bonded to dragons are vulnerable to rages beyond that of normal men,” explained Laena, shooting an amused look at her brother. Laenor flushed. That… actually explained a lot. Holy shit, why hadn’t Viserys ever mentioned this? At my presumably stunned expression, Rhaenys laughed again.

“I’ve seen you with it. You haven’t got the handle on it that you think you do but it’ll come with age. As for my girl, there’s a reason Corlys doesn’t argue with her these days. I seem to remember an invitation to talk to Vhagar about your frequent travels.”

“Mother!” Laena exclaimed, horrified. I had never seen Laena truly angry beyond the brief flash of murder she’d had over the bruises when she’d first seen them. Apparently, it wasn’t something I should seek out if even Corlys was weary of it.

“But it seems the only thing that’ll get Laenor fired up is a pretty wife in peril. Your father’s son in more ways than one.” There was a fierce grin gracing the Queen That Never Was’ face. Laenor went even redder, hands twisting the hem of his tunic. I allowed myself to enjoy the sight of him, red blush on high cheekbones, for a moment until I caught Laena watching me with a raised eyebrow and an odd expression.

Rhaenys was wrong, of course, about the cause being a wife in peril. I had seen Laenor truly beyond rage, filled with killing intent, as we’d waited for the Maester to finish looking over Joffrey. Laenor had wanted to challenge Criston Cole, had wanted him dead and not peacefully in his sleep either. It had been the desire to make sure Joffrey did not awaken alone that had prevented him storming the royal apartments to confront the Lord Commander. I certainly had nothing to do with it, he’d barely acknowledged my presence at the time.

“No doubt we’ll be receiving your Father’s judgement on all of this before long,” said Rhaenys, merrily and oblivious to her children’s suddenly chagrined expressions. I, myself, refused to allow my expression to change. Corlys could fall in line or continue sulking on those fucking islands but I was done with men telling me what to do, assuming they were better at it all simply because I lacked a cock and they didn’t.

Corlys did indeed have opinions. Surprising ones. His letter praised Laenor for his actions in the Vale, both in being a leader of men and flying in the Fall of Gulltown. He’d also waxed lyrical about how proud he was that Laenor had managed to use my ‘foolishness’ to create a boon for House Velaryon in the form of men, trade and resources from the Vale. He’d approved Laenor’s offers of the loans to Jeyne and given him permission to sink a princely amount into the new enterprise in the Vale.

I don’t think Laenor was supposed to read aloud the bit where Corlys implied I was an empty headed ‘chit’ who needed to be kept from harming myself through my own moronic ideas. Clearly, someone had received notice that Joffrey succeeded in emptying Dragonstone of his spies and was not taking it very well.

Joffrey had also succeeded in the other task I had set him because it seemed Qarl Correy was gone.

No body, no scandal, no real rumours - he was just gone. Joffrey had been tight lipped about what he’d done even when I’d confronted him directly. I had no clue if he was dead or alive, if he’d left willingly or not, if he even knew why he’d been turfed out of his comfy life on Driftmark. I found myself troubled by how untroubled I was by Qarl Correy’s unknown fate.

He was probably dead. Likely executed…No, not executed, murdered for a crime he might commit in the future on the orders of a man who simply had another’s word of his untrustworthiness. My word.

At least Laenor hadn’t been too upset. He’d sulked for a day or two but had snapped out of it the moment Joffrey reported that Wisdom Jerrett had begun research and testing on Dragonstone. I admit I was excited too. Jerrett had split his Wisdoms into groups, roughly following the groups Laenor had used initially with a few minor changes.

Wisdom Hugh had taken command of a few farms close to the campus in my name and had started the experiments. They’d given one farmer the tools they’d produced, one farmer the idea and process of the four field system, the third both the field system and the tools and final one had been told to keep farming as usual. 

Wisdom Gawen had been given charge of the ‘communications’ research. A fancy word for what was essentially just the printing press and the vague idea of typewriter. I was told he’d made good progress though. He’d come up with several promising prototypes for the press itself but had run into a problem with the actual print part.

Wisdom Beron had started his experiments into glass which were not going as well as hoped. Clear glass was still out of our reach it seemed as my vague ideas about seaweed were just that. Vague. Still, we were learning a lot about the different types of seaweed that graced the waters around Dragonstone and Driftmark and learning was never bad.

The final research group of any note was not lead by a Wisdom but by Maester Gerardys. Gerardys was a gifted healer and had read only a few pages of the book before insisting he be allowed to work with the Wisdoms. I had been worried he’d sell us all out and tell the Maesters about my plans but he’d insisted he was loyal to me.

He’d done that in canon. I remembered where it had got him there.

I’d begrudgingly allowed it because in the end he was the best man for the job. None of the Wisdoms really knew much about the body and medicine and Gerardys did have multiple silver links. So far, I did not think my trust had been misplaced even if he had sulked regarding my insistence that he train midwives. He’d given in after an afternoon spent arguing with me when he’d realised I wasn’t backing down.

He’d sought out a few young girls from the castle town and begun teaching them how to read and write. After that he promised to teach them basic biology and bring in an older midwife to go over the finer points of delivering a baby. Then they’d be dispatched to gain experience on Dragonstone and Driftmark before returning to be present at my own birth. Hopefully with the Crown Princess favouring them, their popularity would soon justify training more.

Still, Gerardys wasn’t entirely focused on training midwives. He’d successfully created Ether which was, admittedly, not as useful as it could be in a world with Milk of the Poppy but apparently still a worthy breakthrough in the field of medicine. He’d also produced a few stethoscope prototypes alongside some of the apprentices. 

He was very excited about the stethoscope.

He’d devoted himself to researching all of the ways the stethoscope could be incorporated into the diagnoses process. Honestly, with all the testing he’d been doing the people of Dragonstone had never been healthier and I’d never been more popular as it seems the smallfolk had interpreted my Maester homing in on anyone with so much as a cough or a sniffle like a heat seeking missile as a sign of my exceedingly charitable nature.

At least the success of the stethoscope was balancing out the continued lack of progress of the penicillin front. Gerardys had done some research and discovered that early First Men included fruit mold in many of their ointments and poultices which did point to the spore existing but that damn thing remained illusive.

Wisdom Jerrett watched over it all, diving in and out of tasks and research as fancy took him. He’d been appointed as the leader of the Alchemists I had lured away from the capital. Not surprising given the pages had been ‘secured’ by his actions but I made a point of asking Joffrey to ensure that we did not become embroiled in any intra-guild politics. It would be a pain to lose progress because Jerrett wanted to argue about which hat he got to wear.

Speaking of politics, Joffrey and Laenor had been right. Viserys’ actions had put him massively on the back foot with his courtiers and lords. He’d been forced to excessively praise my efforts to defend Jeyne’s rights to all that would listen after an outpouring of support for me and condemnation at my perceived punishment. 

It was also a complete mystery how descriptions of what Viserys had done to me had dispersed about the capital, wasn’t it, Joffrey? To say nothing of the actual, honest to the seven public denouncement Rhaenys decided to send out to every lord that would listen, which hadn’t helped Viserys’ position, as it had simply confirmed Joffrey’s rumours.

Oh yes, my dear Father was very unpopular in the capital right now. 

Although practically speaking, I was the only one popular in the capital right now.

Some of the Greens had begun wavering, wondering if their rights would be defended given that Alicent was doubling down on condemning me. Not that she had a choice, Joffrey was quick to tell me that the Greens were suffering from backlash from… well, actually nobody was sure. Soon after my departure, Viserys and Alicent had a terrible row over what Joffrey did not know but it had taken days for them to begin speaking to one another again.

I must admit to being impressed she’d managed to come up with a half decent party line for her Greens to line up behind. She’d taken the view that it had been an internal dispute in the Vale and that I had overstepped my rights as Princess and Heir when I’d interfered without anyone asking me too. Hardcore Greens were obediently parroting it to all who would listen whilst implying I would weaken the rights of the Lords Paramount to strengthen myself unjustly.

Unfortunately, only her most hardcore Greens were buying it. 

Truly, the Greens were definitely in worse shape than I would have expected, losing royal favour and lucrative appointments left, right and centre. Viserys may not be appointing my Blacks in their place but Alicent’s hold on the capital was shakier than it had been in years. In fact, even Viserys’ latest and greatest idea seemed to be an extension of Green disfavour when taken in the context of the court.

Oh yes, Viserys had apparently had another stroke of genius because a letter had been sent to Dragonstone bearing the King’s seal.

The letter was typical of his missives. He acknowledged that his hasty reaction to my actions in the Vale had been ill-considered and divisive. He informed me of the reasons he’d reacted so which mostly boiled down to the fact he’d been scared stiff I would get myself killed. He praised my sense of justice, my political sense and my quick wit for solving the Vale situation in a manner that had been uncommonly light on casualties for succession disputes. He confirmed that he still thought of me as his heir and that if I continued showing such qualities as I did, I would be a finer ruler than Jaehaerys and a worthy Queen for Westeros.

But not once did he apologise. Not once did he say sorry for physically attacking me, for shouting and throwing his weight around. There was no rescinding of my informal ‘banishment’ and that said more to me than his entire letter had.

Still, if it had just been the praise, the support and the new confirmation he still saw me as his heir it would have been an annoying letter I could point to later when someone got snotty with me but this was Viserys. Viserys who seemed to be innately gifted in making every situation he ever got involved in objectively worse.

I had to hand it to him though, this time he wasn’t making my life worse. Or rather, he wasn’t making it directly worse, I had no doubt Alicent was thinking of a thousand different ways to make me pay for this.

Viserys had decreed the Helaena was old enough to be sent to foster.

And he’d chosen me, her doting older sister.

I really, really want to know what Alicent did to piss him off.


	23. Interlude -Rhaenys

She watched the paper that lay on her desk as one might watch a live viper and toyed with her glass of wine. She didn’t need to read it to know what it said, she’d read through it enough to know the words by heart now.

Empty headed fool! What was he thinking?

She knew of course. He was arrogant enough to not realise he’d lost control of the situation long ago. That everyone involved would dance to his tune. She took a sip of wine and glared at the fire in the grate. She had never danced to his tune and woe betide him if he thought she would not catch on to his game. That he would try and sell their daughter, their only daughter, to such a man. Oh he used such coy language opining it would be ‘good for them to meet’ and that ‘Rhaenyra’s influence had to be fought’ and so on, playing to what he knew to be her insecurities.

The wine glass came down to hard on the table, splashing it’s contents over her hand. Did he think her a fool? Did he think he could control Daemon the way he thought he could control Laenor and Laena? He couldn’t even control the daughter of that bleating sheep on the throne, how could he think he could control a true dragon?

In truth, he couldn’t even control their children anymore.

Her boy, a boy no more, married for nearly a year now. He’d been to war, fought and killed. He was out in the world making his own name, forging his own legend… That he was doing at the side of that girl was the only infuriating part. She seemed content to sit back and let her precious boy so all the hard work. Money for an army, bat your eyelids at Laenor. Money for bizarre experiments, earn it on your back from Laenor.

And as for the spies on Driftmark…

Stupid boy! Why had he not warned them that Lonmouth, another ungrateful bastard, had men crawling over the island? Her husband had taught Joffrey everything he knew, treated him like a second son, and he repaid them with betrayal. More to the point, why had she been such a fool to assume that after that stunt her husband had pulled with their spies that Rhaenyra would not return the favour? That Laenor had not told her galled her. His wife had bought out half his island and he had not cared to even try and even hint about them.

Too much like his father, she supposed, all Rhaenyra had to do was play the wounded doe and Laenor had done the rest. Cunning. Clever. It should reassure her that their future Queen had a brain in her head. She sighed. She was being to harsh on the girl. To wound up, to worried for her children. She was seeing threats in every corner. Rhaenyra wasn’t that bad. By her side, Laenor had become something more. Gone was the cowering boy, afraid of everything. Now he was a man in truth, soon to have babes on the way with any luck.

A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts.

“Come in!” she barked, placing her wine glass to the side and wiping her hand on the black tunic she wore. Laena appeared in the door way, looking worried and she gave her a warm smile. “Come in, girl, come in!”

She poured them both some wine and waited as her daughter made herself comfortable before handing her the cup. 

“Thank you Mother. I wanted to speak to you about- about the Stepstones,” her voice was hesitant, as if she expected her to end the conversation there and then. “I don’t think I should go. It doesn’t feel right and Laenor sai-”

“Laenor might as well be one of those fancy mimic birds from the summer islands right now. Rhaenyra doesn’t want to risk you bringing Daemon back to Westeros.” Her daughter flushed at the rebuke. Laena certainly approved of the girl as well. She hadn’t seen her daughter so keen to stay in one place since she’d been a child, since she’d clambered across the back of Vhagar and claimed the gargantuan beast for her own.

“Rhaenyra said he would want me because I’m beautiful and he likes to possess beautiful things.” The defiance did not surprise her, her daughter had always been mostly dragon in the same way Laenor had always been a seahorse, if only she could temper it with wisdom. “Laenor said that Father was offering me to him like a piece of meat to a starving dog.”

Damn it all! How could she refute something that wasn’t wrong? Corlys had better have a good explanation for trying such a bone-headed scheme. That Daemon would want the girl was a given fact, he would want her badly enough to start yet another dispute with his useless Brother, for all the good it would do Laena, who would be caught in the middle. Trapped in marital limbo again.

“Your Father offers you to no one. Prince Daemon is married and unlikely to be granted an annulment by the King. I would hope you remember that whilst aiding your Father.”

Laena’s face screwed up as she digested that. It would be good to remind her that for all Laenor and Rhaenyra’s scare-mongering she was, ostensibly, being sent to aid her Father and securing their families future by doing so.

“The King does not grant the annulment. Surely that is the High Septon?”

Oh my girl, my sweet girl, how can you be so clever and so blind to how the world works at the same time? How can he expect you to survive Daemon? How can you have travelled so far and yet be so ignorant? Daemon will eat you alive.

Mother’s Mercy, Rhaenyra is right. He’ll use you up and leave you a ruin.

“The High Septon wouldn’t dare grant an annulment if King Viserys does not wish it.” She snorted. “The High Septon does not shit in the morning without King Viserys’ permission.”

At least the useless lump understood that much. That the faith was a tool of the throne and not the other way round. Her daughter shifted at the casual destruction of her understanding of the world. She wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. She’d travelled as far as Volantis, rode the last of conquerors dragons and had the temper to match! How could she not understand? 

“I… I believe I understand. I will fly to Bloodstone and aid Father in routing these new foes.” Ah, there it was. The look her girl got when she thought of adventure. Then she frowned. “I just… I will miss Laenor, Joff and Rhaenyra.”

“They will be here when you get back.” Laena’s face cleared and she smiled. “And you will remain out of the Prince’s way. Rhaenyra is right in saying he will want you.” 

“You do not like Rhaenyra much?” asked her daughter after a while of silence, coiling her hair around her finger and looking thoughtful.

“To hear Laenor speak of her, she’s the second coming of the Seven-who-are-one. I merely think she overestimates herself.” In truth, she was about the best that she could ask for in a gooddaughter. Pretty, clever enough and able to put her grandchildren on the throne where they belong.

“Laenor believes she can see the future.” Laena said, watching her carefully. She snorted, Laenor had once been convinced he’d met a man that could walk on water. “He says she knows things she shouldn’t.”

“More to do with the Lonmouth boy than any mystical knowledge.” The name was spat and she realised her daughter had picked up on it a second too late.

“You do not like Joff?” she asked. Oh how she was coming to loath the Lonmouth knight. Laenor’s brother in arms, Laena able to call him by a nickname with ease and her gooddaughter… 

“I dislike how obvious the two of them are. I hope the girl has enough brains to ensure the baby comes out with the right parentage but I would prefer more discretion.”

Much to her surprise her daughter digested this news in silence before bursting into peels of laughter. She frowned, annoyed at missing something, annoyed at being made a joke of. Laena managed to get herself under control after a moment.

“I’m sorry Mother, the idea of Joff sleeping with Rhaenyra! Hahaha,” her daughter giggled with evident glee.

“And pray tell why the idea amuses you so?” At the question Laena paled a little and wasn’t that odd.

“Well… they’re both so serious. Any affair they had would probably be scheduled three weeks ahead of time. They’d get so caught up in paperwork they’d forget the actual bedding!” A lie. Her daughter was lying. She had always been able to see through her children’s lies but why would she lie about this? She had not lied about doubting an affair, why would she lie about why?


	24. Dishonour - Chapter 21

“Three of a kind,” said Falena Waynwood, laying her cards out for us all to see. She did indeed have three queens. Next to me, Alys Strong groaned in dismay and dropped her head onto the table. Her twin sister, Sera, patted her on the back consolingly. I didn’t have much sympathy, she should have known to fold on an ace high when Falena was willing to take risky bets. The woman was conservative and risk averse, she wouldn’t raise unless she knew she had a strong hand.

“An impressive hand, Falena, but I think you’ll find I take the pot. Flush!” chirruped Maris Grafton in an annoyingly sweet tone that had her fellow Vale woman scowling at her. She was a pig to play poker with. The complete opposite of Falena, she was happy to take big risks on bad hands in attempts to psych out her opponents and had a near impenetrable poker face.

“Oh bad luck, Fal!” came Marya’s ever cheerful voice as Maris eagerly scooped up the silver that composed of her winnings. Falena shot the Stokeworth lady a grateful smile. Marya had become the groups ‘mom friend’ within a week of my return to Dragonstone. She was closest to Falena, the two were devout and conservative and had much in common, but where Falena regarded all she did not approve of with silent condemnation, Marya simply accepted she couldn’t change it and moved on.

It made her interactions with the Twins a lot easier. Alys and Sera were practical jokers and ever playing the fools, although they had the sense and tact to time their various comedy routines for when they were least likely to cause upset and on good days could even elicit a laugh or two from Falena. I liked that about them, they were never cruel with their jokes.

Maris Grafton was not as good a fit as I’d hoped. Frequently, she was a terror. Disdaining Marya’s charity work, scorning Falena’s quiet devotion to the Seven and scolding the Twins when they attempted to cheer her up. I suppose it wasn’t too unexpected, Maris Grafton had been the oldest daughter of a powerful lord before I’d appeared in her life. Now she was forced to rely on the charity of the woman who had deposed her father based on nebulous good will she’d won years earlier. She was a weakness in my household that I could not easily eliminate and it made my shoulders itch.

It still did not feel right with Laena’s absence. She’d only been here all of several weeks before Corlys had pulled his utterly ridiculous… no, no. You’ve raged at this enough. It’s been nearly five months now. Be sensible. Still, I missed the girl.

“Another round, Your Grace?” asked Sera, reaching for the cards.

“Not at the moment, Sera, I’m exhausted. Today was somewhat hectic.” I was not lying. In the months since Viserys had sent me packing, Dragonstone had been transformed from lonely empty castle to a secondary court, heaving with second sons and those who sought my favour. I’d even had to renovate parts of the castle long since abandoned just to fit everyone inside. Although in the long run I was calling that a win because I’d managed to stealthily reduce the amount of Dragon iconography from ‘literally everywhere you look’ to ‘at least I can see the floor now’.

Baby steps.

But I was still frustrated. I should be out there right now, winning support, shaking hands and making deals. Instead I was forced to stay here and only act through proxies because Viserys was still sulking.

“Oh but it was wonderful! Did you see Ser Byren? He looked so handsome,” Marya sighed. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. As if punishing me for my sins Ser Byren Hastwyck had appeared on the island, charged with protecting Princess Helaena during her fostering here, and Marya had been instantly taken with him. The rest of my ladies tended to form up around her defensively when he entered the room but Marya was not to be deterred.

“The man is a peacock, all show and no substance,” groused Falena. Marya ignored her in favour of sighing dreamily and looking out the window.

“I wouldn’t try and persuade her otherwise, Falena, she won’t hear it!” Sera told the Waynwood woman as she packed the cards away. I watched in amusement as Alys stole her wine having finished her own and presumably being unwilling to challenge Maris over the pitcher.

“Well if he hurts her, our Princess will feed him to Syrax feet first if I know her,” Maris interjected, shooting me a dark look. It was true I’d made it clear that I’d be very unamused if my ladies were to be hurt in any manner but Maris was baiting me and doing so blatantly.

“Dear Maris, I wouldn’t feed him to Syrax, I don’t know where he’s been after all,” I shot back. The Grafton lady laughed along with the rest. At least she wasn’t inclined to rages when the targets of her acidic wit fired back.

“Oh! How is Syrax? I saw her in the sea today after your ride with Ser Laenor,” said Marya, returning from her fantasy of marrying the human incarnation of stepping on lego. At the mention of Laenor, my ladies tittered in delight. He cut quite the striking figure these days owing to his frequent practising with the blade he now wore regularly.

It was enough to make a girl blush.

“You can drool all you like over our Princess’s handsome Prince but I think that Ser Joffrey is a dark horse,” Maris told them, shooting me another look that told me she was baiting again. 

“Oh! He does seem like a sensitive soul. A crippled knight who needs a woman to soothe his hurts and he’s soooo mysterious!” sighed Alys. 

“Yes, I suppose you could see it that way sister, but does he not remind you of Larys at times?” asked Sera, face screwed up in disgust.

“I find little wrong with him, Sera, he serves me well and has a mind that more than makes up for any perceived physical failing,” I told her. She flushed at the rebuke and offered me a small bow.

“I apologise, Your Grace, I did not mean to disparage Ser Joffrey but he does remind me of Larys at times beyond the um… limp,” she said quickly before forging on as she noted the frown on my face. “They’re both quiet men and work well in the background, they shun accolades and glory and they’re both very intelligent.”

“My apologies then, Sera, I did not mean to overreact.” I relaxed back in my chair and Sera shot me a grateful smile before noticing her lack of wine and starting argument with her sister over the theft. My eyes were drawn back to Maris who wore a triumphant smile, she raised her wine glass in a mock toast, eyes twinkling in amusement.

I’d clearly fallen prey to whatever trap she’d laid out. Concerning.

“Oh! But what about Ser Hugh?”

“Ser Hugh? ‘Red’ Hugh? He looks like a nervous rabbit!” 

I tuned out the laughter and gossip about boys and allowed myself to enjoy the wine. A fruity blend from the Reach that, surprisingly enough, hadn’t passed through Redwyne hands before making it’s way to Dragonstone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the price of Arbor Red going up Alicent because I have and I want you to know it’s extremely petty!

The arrival of a knight in Targaryen livery startled the ladies from their gossip.

“Your Grace, Princess Helaena wishes to see you.”

I put aside my wine and bid my ladies farewell, dismissing them to find some sort of gainful occupation elsewhere before making my way to Helaena’s room. My little sister had not been sleeping well of late so I’d given her a day free. Her attendants told me she frequently awoke screaming and crying from nightmares she refused to describe to anyone, even me. It was a concern but unless she actually confided in me, I could do nothing to help.

She was in bed when I arrived, bound in a cocoon of bedding and pale as a ghost. When she noticed me, she wriggled free with a cry and threw herself into my arms with a sob. I curled her close and murmured reassurances in her ear.

“They are just dreams, Helaena, they can’t hurt you.” I told her in the most gentle voice I could. She shuddered against me and clutched at my mantle.

“You will not tell me what you dream of?” I asked. I felt her shake her head against my shoulder and I sighed.

“I can’t!” she sniffled. 

“Then at least tell me no one is harming you or making you feel unwelcome here?” I was fairly certain that wasn’t the case. The castellan had assured me Helaena’s attendants were polite and well trained and that her knights were the epitome of chivalry and ready to guard her from any knaves. I believed it, her knights were the greenest Greens. If they could spot something they could attribute to me they’d do it in instant.

She pulled back from my shoulder, reddened eyes wide.

“No! I mean, no one hurt me. It’s just…” 

“The nightmares,” I finished as she trailed off, looking glum. She nodded and I sighed.

“Well, I suppose we will have to find something for you to do then so that you do not think of them. Meet me in the yard for practise?”

Helaena’s eyes lit up at that and she nodded. An hour later we stood in the Practise yard. It was normally reserved for knights that wished to spar and keep their skills sharp or for those training squires but it was all but abandoned in the midday sun with most preferring the evening or morning time. The master-of-arms, Rogar Langward, was still present though and was quick to fetch both mine and Helaena’s bow for practise. It seemed we’d be getting his full attention today, a step up from the quick tips he gave me when I accompanied Laenor here.

Helaena was quite the shot for a nearly-six year old and most people agreed that she’d be terror in hunting grounds everywhere when she was old enough. At the moment though she was limited to the least powerful bow in existence and only being allowed near arrows when someone halfway responsible was around. My own ability… well let’s just say it was improving. Slowly. I could hit the broadside of a barn if I concentrated?

I was much better with throwing daggers. Another weapon I’d begun practising with, albeit less publicly than the bow. After being absolutely helpless against Viserys, Joffrey had suggested it might help if I trained in some kind of self defence. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t pull a knife on the King but anyone else was fair game and that included any ne’er-do-wells and cutthroats that slipped through Joffrey’s surprisingly extensive nets.

The dear man had even gone out of his way to acquire a harness that allowed me to wear multiple knives under my dresses.

“Are you going to shoot too?” asked Helaena and I realised I’d been staring off into space for the last five minutes whilst my younger sister had fired a good few arrows into the area surrounding the centre of her target. I readied myself and let an arrow fly at my own before strangling the instinctive curse as it struck the hay bales behind.

Alicent would have my head if her only daughter came back to court swearing like a sailor.

“Your Grace, you’re still much too tense when lining up your shot. Remember the breathing I taught you?” Rogar’s told me in his calm and deep voice. “Put the bow down and show me the exercises.”

I did as I was told and when he was happy he’d ironed out any poor practise, he returned the bow and ordered me to fire again. This time the arrow at least hit the target, barely. Helaena gave a cheer at the improvement. Rogar hummed for a moment and then moved up next to me.

“Try again Your Grace, keep an eye on the target… no, not the arrow, you are looking at the arrow, look at what you want to shoot.”

By the end of the session he’d ironed out several mistakes I kept making and drilled me until I could assume the correct posture and breathing required without thinking about it. He’d also strongly suggested I set aside time every day for him to work on my skills with him. Helaena’s eyes had lit up and I’d given in. She was proud of her skill with the bow and it wouldn’t hurt to have her improve alongside me with proper instruction.

Plus the only time she seemed truly free from her nightmares was with a bow in hand.

When I finally escaped, my arms ached as if I’d been lifting weights the entire day and my fingers felt raw but on the upside I could hit the target nine times out of ten now and Helaena’s smile was wider than I’d ever seen it.


	25. Dishonour - Chapter 22

“Joff! Please-” Laenor’s sentence became a strangled cry as I let myself into Joffrey’s office. When he realised I wasn’t some random courtier that needed to be lied to he turned back to his ex-lover, face full of grief.

“Joff! I love you, I care not that you can no longer fight. I loved you for your spirit, not your strength of arm,” he whispered. The shorter man merely sighed from his position behind the desk and shot me a pained look.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just your wife,” I told him, fighting to keep my tone light. I shouldn’t get involved in their fights but Laenor really shouldn’t keep doing this. He shot me an aggrieved look before dropping into one of the chairs opposite Joffrey’s desk like a sulking child.

“Please try to understand, Laenor. I can not… I-” he floundered, seemingly unable to find the words and looking so distressed my heart ached in sympathy for him. Their eyes met across the desk, both conveying misery at their perceived positions. This wasn’t time for me to play marriage counsellor. I’d tried before but Joffrey was still trying to discover who he was without the Knight of Kisses and Laenor still to keen for things to revert to how they’d been before with neither willing to budge on the topic.

“I apologise, Your Grace-”

“Please Joffrey, call me Rhaenyra and you needn’t apologise. Not to me and not for this,” I told him and meant every word. He gave me a quick smile that I was happy to see reached his eyes before busying himself with his papers. “Now before we start, have you any news from the Stepstones?”

“Not much. The Prince remains hard to track. Lord Corlys is still at Bloodstone overseeing construction of the new watchtowers there and Lady Laena stands ready to protect the fleet should anything happen.” I turned to Laenor to find him watching me with barely supressed laughter.

“And what has you so amused?” I asked him archly. Laenor’s eyes flickered to Joffrey for a moment before his amused smirk grew into a grin. In the background, I heard Joffrey shuffle more paper and cough loudly. I stamped down on my temper, disliking whatever joke he apparently shared with Joffrey at my expense.

“I leave you to figure it out, Rhaenyra, you wouldn’t believe me if I just told you,” he said finally.

“I told you not to bring it up, Laenor,” muttered Joffrey. I turned back to him to find him blushing slightly and scowling at the Velaryon. Unhappy with them both, I sat back in my chair and fixed them both with a Look.

“Just begin with the briefing. You are not my fools, leave the jokes to Mushroom.” Not that said sleaze bag was actually funny of course, the only time he cheered a room up was when he left it. Like naughty children being told off by a teacher they shuffled straighter in their chairs and adopted serious expressions.

“The first thing to report is from Laenor’s Captain Allard in Gulltown regarding movement of ships there.”

“Are my men okay?” asked Laenor, frowning. His galleys had been unnecessary to dissuading the Manderlys from trying to aid the Graftons but his captains had stayed to hunt pirates around the Sisters and not so subtly remind the Manderlys that any future attempts at a Grafton restoration would go poorly. I doubted they’d act without Stark approval and the current Stark, Rickon, was very much an isolationist no matter how much his brother might raise hell about getting involved in southern politics.

Cregan I would have to deal with later. Preferably when he was closer to his age of majority and that same uncle was a cause of concern for him.

“There has been no issue with your ships. The issue is that a sizable Arryn convoy set off from Gulltown a few days ago. We’ve received word that Lady Jeyne is aboard.”

That was surprising. I couldn’t think of any reason she’d need to leave the Vale. Worry lanced through me.

“Is cousin Jeyne okay?” I asked, concern tinging my tone. We’d remained in close contact over the past few months and I was closer to the younger woman than I had ever been. She was clever, quick witted and an endless source of funny stories.

“Ah, I thought you were aware? She is coming to attend your nameday feast?” Joffrey told me in a dry tone that told me he was quite aware I’d forgotten my own nameday was coming up and was being facetious. 

And I had. With all the business with Helaena, worrying about Laena, playing politics and entertaining my court the fact I was to turn eighteen within a month had completely slipped my mind. I groaned and sank down into my chair much to Laenor’s amusement.

“I knew you’d forgotten. Not to worry, I hadn’t. I asked Falena and Marya to help prepare it and told them it was unseemly that a Princess should have to plan her own Nameday celebrations,” my husband said, looking far to amused with himself. I shot him a glare.

“Well, I have ensured the staff are prepared for surprise visitors in the coming days. Moving on to my spies in King’s Landing-”

“You have spies in King’s Landing now? Since when? And how much is this costing me? I only wanted Dragonstone free of spies!” I cut him off. Laenor’s smugness at the fact he’d gotten one over on me was making me grouchy. Uncharacteristically, Joffrey blushed.

“I admit my activities have expanded in scope much faster than expected but I merely acted on several opportunities when they became available. As for budget, my information gathering brings in some money to allow me to reduce the strain on your finances.”

“And that means?” asked Laenor, looking at Joffrey in wonder. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat in response before directing a pleading look my way.

“I was hoping to keep my ways a secret,” he said, hopefully. I decided not to take pity and instead crossed my arms, an unimpressed expression in place over my face.

“Very well. I have been buying brothels in King’s Landing, Old Town, Gulltown, Lannisport, Seaguard and White Harbor. I have yet to acquire any in Lordsport as the Ironborn do not not take kindly to strangers.”

Laenor’s mouth fell open and I mirrored it. Oh gods, he’d pulled a Littlefinger! He’d pulled more than a Littlefinger! How had I not seen this coming!?

“Brothels! You’ve made us whoremongers!” hissed Laenor, looking angry. Joffrey was trying to formulate an answer but my brain was running fast. If discovered it the backlash would be a pig to deal with but then a lot of things we did would be awkward to explain in court and like it or not, prostitutes were considered closer to furniture by the Lords of Westeros. I could see the logic in recruiting them to gather your information but… I still misliked it.

“Tell me you at least treat the women who work for you with respect,” I growled, ignoring Laenor’s startled look.

“They are well paid, have access to medical treatment if it’s needed, I provide security for them and they have the right to turn down any client for any reason,” he told me. I willed my jaw to unclench. For the working women and men of Westeros, those were ludicrously good terms for employment. Although I doubted Joffrey already had that in place out of the good of his heart. Nobody would risk a deal like that to betray him.

“But you have still made us whoremongers. What if someone finds out?” asked Laenor after I’d given Joffrey a stiff nod. Joffrey merely looked uncomfortable again, a look that did nothing to close the pit of dread that had opened in my stomach at the news of Joffrey’s methods of gathering information.

“I would say that no one would but…” he trailed off and I bit back a groan. “Recently someone has been challenging my operations in King’s Landing. Outing my spies, tracking my business fronts. I worry this person may be trying to discover my identity but I believe the risk worth it. Men will spill any manner of secrets to pretty women that the rack could not drag out of them!”

I sighed and tried to massage away an approaching headache.

“What’s done is done. Continue with your briefing Ser Joffrey, just… please be careful?” He nodded seriously and then gathered himself before continuing.

“More of Alicent’s Greens have lost favour. Lord Gerold said that it’s no coincidence that so many have lost their posts over the past few months but no one seems to know what happened. I have a few informants close to the Queen and they say she is keeping it very close to her chest. Regardless of why, it has apparently it’s forced a change of tactics. She’s not going for the Lords at court anymore but trying for a Lord Paramount. She is actively promising a royal marriage for the Lannisters, amongst other concessions. My spies report they are cautiously interested. They still remember losing out to the Farmans and are keen to even the odds.”

“And after that she will turn her attentions to Borros Baratheon to secure the South,” I didn’t need to see Joffrey’s nod to know I was right. “Can we court the Reynes in order to stall her?”

We both knew that actively sowing discord amongst a Lord Paramount’s vassals was a dangerous game with every chance to backfire but these were desperate times.

“Let her court Lord Borros, he will side with Mother when the time comes,” said Laenor, kicking his feet onto Joffrey’s desk. That wasn’t true, of course. In canon he’d side with Aegon in return for a marriage between Aemond and one of his daughters. He would be one of the contributing factors to the death of Lucerys Velaryon, one of Laenor’s ‘sons’, when his daughter goaded the one-eyed psychopath into kinslaying.

“We can’t bet on that. Lord Boremund loved your Mother but Borros is cut from a different cloth. He’ll side with the faction that gives him the best deal.” Laenor looked taken back at that, then worried.

“I agree with Her Grace. Lord Boremund was an honourable man but his son has made a few worrying moves within the capital that indicate he’s looking to be courted. Lord Gerold approached him but, like many, it looks likely he seeks a marriage,” said Joffrey with a sympathetic look at Laenor. “We can court the Reynes and step up our work with the Tyrells but I fear swaying yet more neutrals to our cause will grow harder from this point onward.”

“Instruct Lord Gerold to sound them out for recruitment and see if he can’t figure out an opening offer. We just need to prevent Alicent from having a solid grip on the Westerlands. As for the Tyrells… well, Father’s punishment has been a pain but I will have a royal visit there at some point.” Joffrey obediently wrote my commands down. Laenor still looked unhappy but I couldn’t explain to him how I knew his Mother’s cousin would betray us in a heart beat if it benefited him.

“Those are the major power moves at the moment. Lord Gerold is masterfully handling the minor moves within court so as long as you are happy with our current bearing?” I nodded. “Excellent.”

Laenor and I began to rise but paused as Joffrey waved us back into his seats. He looked just as nervous as he had earlier, tongue darting out to wet his lips and he seemed to struggle for the right words to say.

“I have something else to report. Something, ah, closer to home,” he said finally and our worried looks merely deepened. I couldn’t remember anything worrying happening around about this time in canon. Nothing that would only be spotted by a spymaster anyway. Daemon’s return and Rhea’s death would be blasted across Westeros.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“My spies on Driftmark have reported some worrying information in regards to Lord Corlys,” Joffrey said, eyes finding Laenor. Lanor looked bewildered and glanced towards me.

“What is it, Joff? How’s Father going to anger Rhaenyra now?” he asked, attempting a smile and teasing tone but the worried look in his eyes ruined the effect. Joffrey sighed before leaning back in his chair.

“It’s not just Rhaenyra he’ll upset. It’s Lady Rhaenys, Lady Laena and yourself if I’m right,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. 

This did not bode well. He’d only risk pissing Rhaenys off for something big and important. My mind flashed to Laena who was still on the Stepstones, still within Daemon’s reach. Had Lord Corlys begun enacting some kind of plan to push her into his arms? My stomach was doing backflips in worry at the thought.

“When your Father last returned to Driftmark he made several visits to a certain shipwright in Hull.”

Oh. Oh no. Of course, Addam and Alyn. They hadn’t popped up until much later but… well Joffrey had been dead almost a year in canon by now and Laenor would never think to look.

“It seems that visit, and an earlier one, has resulted in-”

“Father is hiding bastards in Hull,” Laenor’s voice was cold. I watched him in surprise. His face bore no expression but he was tense, hands clenching and unclenching.

“And taking an active role in raising them when he can. Do you wish for me to alert Lady Rhaenys?” Joffrey asked and I felt a jolt of panic. Rhaenys would send them running at best or kill them at worst and I’d lose access to two potential dragonriders I knew would be completely loyal to my cause.

“No!” Laenor and Joffrey shot me startled looks before Laenor’s face twisted in annoyance. “What I mean is, if Lady Rhaenys gets rid of these bastards he’ll just make more, likely out of her reach this time. We have these within our grasp, surely we could subvert them? Besides Laenor, they are your brothers.”

Laenor studied me for a long time, face twisting this way and that as he thought through the benefits and downsides of keeping his father’s bastards alive and within spitting distance. An insult to his mother but impossibly useful down the line when it came to confronting his father. Finally he nodded, stiffly and only barely, but he nodded.

“Joffrey will keep an eye on them. Could I speak to him alone, please?” His voice was low, filled with distress and his eyes never left my face. I glanced between the two. Laenor was stiff and unmoving, face a mask of neutrality whilst Joffrey merely looked worried.

“Of course, husband. I bid you good day, Ser Joffrey.”


	26. Dishonour - Chapter 23

Laenor left for Driftmark that day and I tried not to be annoyed that he hadn’t even stopped to say goodbye. Joffrey assured me I had done nothing wrong, that he was upset about their argument and the bastards, but I wasn’t sure. Something about the way he’d shut down in that meeting was niggling at me.

I’d gotten to used to having him around, tricking myself into thinking we were more than friends. Riding together, the intimate touches… fooling myself into thinking it was me he really loved and that he was not just playing a part. I sank into a black mood after he left that not even my ladies could cajole me from. Not that this fact prevented them from trying when they noticed my sulks.

“Leave her, Maris, our Princess is heart sick for Ser Laenor,” Marya hissed. Maris Grafton shot her a sneer but settled back down, glaring at her sewing. I ignored them, not in the mood for Marya’s pity or Maris’ remarks. Besides I was quite certain that whatever ‘comforting’ Maris had been planning would have had the opposite effect. Behind me, Falena continued pulling my hair into braids.

“That goes for you two as well,” I didn’t need to turn and see who she was speaking too. There were only two suspects after all. I could almost feel Falena’s worried yet disapproving look being directed at my back. A particularly hard tug that had pain stinging across my scalp and suddenly I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Out! Get out! All of you!”

My ladies scattered at my roar, in the distance I was vaguely aware of Syrax echoing it, but all I could focus on was the pounding of blood in my ears and the fact that my eyes were burning with unshed tears. Maris was the last to leave, casting me a look that made me contemplate violence as she left. I waited in the silence for a while before willing my body to untense, my hands to unclench and my breath to normal from the ragged panting it currently was.

I counted to ten a lot. And then threw a dagger at the bed post, it connected with a dragon head and I felt a little better.

There was a small but tentative knock on the door and I groaned, running my hands through my hair. Falena had only managed to braid half of my hair before I’d sent them all running. I must look ridiculous and lopsided.

“I said I wished to be alone,” I barked when the knock sounded again.

“It’s me!” came Helaena’s voice and I groaned again. She wouldn’t take me sending her running as well as my ladies would. Barring her entry would only similarly upset her. Her presence at my door stank of Joffrey’s interference. Damn that man. I dropped into a chair and lowered my face into my hands, scrubbing them over my face as if I could wake up from this dream.

“Come in,” I sighed. She trotted in, letting the door slam in Ser Byren’s face and I tried to suppress a smile, tried to remain angry. It seemed my little sister had picked up on my disdain for the man and was making it clear that if I didn’t like him, she didn’t. To think he’d probably assumed this a promotion for coming to my notice and having me strike at him, I wondered if he still felt that way.

“Ser Joffrey said that you were upset,” she said, face earnest in the way only a six year old could manage before her eyes travelled to the dagger and widened. It was hard to be angry at a six year old that worshipped the ground you walked on, especially one as genuinely sweet as Helaena. It makes my heart clench to know what happened to her in canon. Not this time, this time she would have a big sister that was worthy of her.

“A little. I miss Laenor. That is all.” She frowned at me, turning that over in her mind before shrugging.

“Your hair is a mess,” she finally said and I laughed. Genuinely, honestly laughed until tears ran down my face and my stomach hurt. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t but… oh how could one not laugh at a such a mismatch in priorities and once I’d started, I found myself unable to stop. Helaena just pouted at my amusement, evidently thinking it applied to her, before dragging another chair loudly across the stone floor so she could clamber up onto it and begin undoing my braids.

“I haven’t asked you how you’re finding your fostering yet?” I asked her, once I’d calmed myself enough to speak.

“I miss Mother and Father and Aegon and even Aemond and Daeron but it’s nice being with you! You let me practise with the bow and your ladies are very nice,” she told me as my hair fell down around my shoulders.

“Well, that’s good. Maester Gerardys says you’re doing quite well in your lessons.”

“Maester Gerardys is very strange,” she told me, tone so serious I started giggling again. She joined me this time, hopping down from her chair with a wide smile on her face. I scooped her into a hug which she returned eagerly.

“Maester Gerardys also says you’re sleeping a bit better now?” I hoped she was. She certainly looked better, more energetic with less dark circles under her eyes. A child of six should not look so exhausted.

“A lot better. I have less nightmares now and more good dreams.”

I felt myself relax a little at that. For a while I’d been genuinely considering sending her back to King’s Landing and Alicent. Helaena was quick to assure me she had nightmares there but surely they hadn’t been that bad. Surely Viserys would have warned me? Even he couldn’t be that dim. I’d feared a move to be fostered by the sister she may subconsciously view as a threat and the one her siblings definitely viewed as a threat was making them worse.

“Did you want to go and practise?” she asked, leaning back with eyes bright. I sighed again, this time with fondness. The fact she’d waited this long to ask was probably a sign of great restraint on her part so I rewarded her with a nod of assent.

A few hours later, I was bitterly regretting my weakness. Ser Rogar had taken my poor performance with the bow as a personal challenge and had become a terror during practise and Warrior damn me if I ever missed a day on the range. The fact that there was a six-year old happily out shooting me not five feet away was something of an embarrassment but I had to admit, I had improved. Long gone were the days of being a danger only to the hay and maybe extra large castle walls. I could hit the target reliably, was even starting to hit closer to the middle. Helaena and I got so absorbed that I almost missed it when a messenger in Targaryen colours found us.

“Your Grace,” he said with a bow. I handed my bow and quiver to Rogar and turned to face the youth. “ Arryn ships have been spotted approaching the harbour. They’ll make land within the hour.”

I summoned my ladies and made my apologies for my earlier behaviour before dispatching the Twins to help Helaena prepare. She had maids but the Twins liked her and she liked them. She found them funny, only the Gods know why. My ladies-in-waiting accepted my apologies gracefully and all but Maris seemed genuine. Still the baleful looks she was shooting my way lasted until she realised Jeyne was here.

“Do you suppose she might allow me to visit my mother and sisters?” she asked, voice smaller than I had ever heard it.

“That is a privilege granted at the pleasure of Lady Arryn,” Falena bit out.

“Don’t be cruel, Fal! I’m sure Lady Arryn will allow such a visit,” came Marya’s voice from behind me as she tamed the tangle Helaena had caused when she’d freed my partial braids. Maris said nothing, eyes on me.

“I will speak to Lady Arryn on your behalf, Maris,” I told her after a moment. She nodded stiffly and busied herself with preparing my dress. Falena glanced between me and her before her eyes softened slightly. Falena wasn’t completely married to propriety all the time, she knew when to bend slightly. Still, it was surprising to see her raise a comforting arm to Maris’ shoulder and given the way the Grafton jumped in fright, Maris hadn’t been expecting it either. Behind me, I heard Marya hum in satisfaction.

I… wasn’t going to ponder whether she’d engineered that. Down that road, madness lay.

Three galleys bearing the Arryn heraldry glided into the port at Dragonstone. The shouts of my own dock workers and Jeyne’s sailors were heard as they began the process of docking, disembarking passengers and the unloading of luggage. I watched as the party that was very evidently Jeyne’s left the ship and made their way towards us. Behind me a veritable army of courtiers were assembling, each likely eager to judge how close my cousin and I were or simply see if they could ferret out any gossip.

She was smiling broadly when she reached us as if someone had just told her a very good joke. At her back was a party of Vale nobles of which I only recognised a few. One of which was Lady Rhea Royce who was making a effort to look like she was smiling but was having the effect ruined by how pale and sweaty she was. And if I thought Lady Rhea was bad, poor Jessamyn Redfort put her to shame. She was leaning on a tall, dark haired man who I was willing to bet was her brother given their similar looks and it looked like he was all that was keeping her upright. The last lord I recognised was the broad and tall Lord Denys who was beaming at me and showing no signs of sea related distress at all.

“Cousin!” called Jeyne when she was close enough that the winds could not snatch her words away.

“Welcome to Dragonstone, Lady Arryn, it is not as beautiful as the Eyrie but I’m quite fond of it anyway!” She laughed and pulled me into a hug.

“Perhaps we should proceed inside, I note certain members of Lady Jeyne’s party could use some time to freshen up,” Joffrey said from somewhere within the welcoming group. Jessamyn’s noise of agreement turned into a groan and retching and it was with no small amount of alarm that we quickly ushered them along lest the very rare, very treasured non-dragon paved path get puked on.

“Poor Jess,” Jeyne said under her breath as we made our way inside. I linked her arm with mine and brought her closer.

“Has she been like this the whole way?” I asked and Jeyne giggled and then looked guilty for doing so.

“She didn’t want to come but the alternative was staying in the Eyrie by herself. She’s always been terribly seasick,” Jeyne told me, no small amount of affection in her voice. “Where is Ser Laenor?”

“Driftmark,” I answered, voice strained. Next to me, Jeyne sighed and shot me a pained look. We reached the entrance hall and servants were quick to come forth and begin showing the guests to their rooms.

“Perhaps we can speak privately, cousin?” she asked. Lord Denys shot us both a curious look from where he was being ushered away. We ended up in my offices with wine. The balcony overlooked the docks so we got an excellent view of the Arryn ships.

“You have bad news?” I said as we sat down. Jeyne poured herself a glass of wine from the pitcher and then took a gulp before she spoke.

“I promise you we came for your nameday but I do confess to another motive. The Falcons started rough. We gathered the volunteers at Strong Song and saw early success in fighting the bolder raiders. The problem is the clans have fallen back and are raiding in reprisal across Waynwood and Royce lands.” I groaned. We had been hoping the clans would not split up like that until the Falcons had more experience, that they would underestimate the threat they represented until much later. In retrospect, this was a mistake.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. We have knights pushing back the raiders but it seems we’ll need more money and more resources to spread the men out further and raise more of them. I had hoped to speak to Ser Laenor regarding a further loan but… is everything truly all right between you?”

“It is my fault. Joffrey assures me he will come round but the anger is all me,” I told her. Jeyne nodded, looking decidedly un-reassured.

“I will have a message sent to Driftmark, summoning him back so that you may speak with him.”

And hopefully we won’t have marital strife in front of the guests.


	27. Dishonour - Chapter 24

Laenor greeted Jeyne with a practised bow followed by a kiss on the cheek and moved on to greeting Rhea who managed to not make an acidic remark about decorating choices and dragons for an entire five minutes to return the greeting and finally Jessamyn who looked a lot better than she had two days ago when Jeyne’s party had first arrived.

“How is Driftmark?” asked Rhea, as Laenor made himself comfortable. We had all gathered in my solar, I didn’t use it often, preferring my offices closer to the docks but it seemed more appropriate as it was larger and had more creature comforts.

“Faring well! Spicetown has grown much in the past year and High Tide nears completion. We’ve already moved much of Father’s treasures there for display. Only a few of the outer towers to complete now,” Laenor replied, his face glowing with boyish delight. High Tide and Spicetown were as much his projects as his Father’s. I busied myself with my wine and ignored the ache in my gut. Laenor could do as he wished and if I had convinced myself otherwise, it was my doing.

“Excellent! I must say, Terrance has been most pleased with business you and he struck whilst you were in the Vale,” Jeyne said. Laenor acknowledged the praise with a slight bow of his head. “And the ships you sent to us have been a great help in clearing the waters around Gulltown,”

“Thank you, Lady Arryn. I hope to have a long and prosperous relationship with Gulltown,” he said.

“Jeyne was informing me about the change of scale the Falcons will have to operate on. Is that covered by the pot your Father allocated to the Vale?” I asked him. He turned to me, shoulders tense before nodding.

“If Lady Arryn requires further loans I have acquired prior approval up until a point. I trust the current rates are acceptable?”

“I have a letter that Lord Terrance wrote up to put the matter to you. I’m afraid my education was rather lacking on such matter, Ser Laenor.” Translation, Yorbert didn’t think you needed to know how money works and assumed your husband would attend to it so now you’re desperately trying to catch up despite knowing even if you had been taught Terrance and Laenor could still run rings around you when it comes to finances.

“I will look over his proposals and send a reply as soon as I am able to, Lady Arryn.”

We frittered away a few hours making idle chatter. I was happy to see the relationship between Rhea and Jeyne had thawed considerably in the few months since I’d last seen them in the same room. Although there were still awkward pauses where one said something and realised it could be taken with offence Jessamyn’s quick wit normally compensated with a joke or a change of topic.

Rhea Royce was due for a fall from a horse at some point soon and I hoped among all hope that I had butterflied it away. The removal of a powerful enemy from her borders, a much better relationship with her liege lady, a trip to see her niece… something had to have worked. I couldn’t just tell her never go hawking again without sounding like a complete lunatic. Jeyne’s boisterous laugh startled me from thoughts and I looked up to meet Laenor’s violet eyes watching me with a weird mix of suspicion, curiosity and triumph. 

“You seem distracted, wife?” he said when he noticed my focus, cutting through Jessamyn’s retelling of a marriage proposal she’d had that had ended in disaster. There was an edge I wasn’t sure I liked in his voice. Three pairs of curious eyes turned to us and I blushed under the attention.

“Merely thinking,” I replied. His answering smile was somewhat reminiscent of a shark. 

“Ah! I do believe I promised to meet Lord Denys at some point for a small tipple. Care to join me, Jeyne? Jessamyn?” Rhea rose to her feet and gestured to the two women, who mostly just looked puzzled. I suppose the woman who’s life was one ongoing domestic argument could spot marital strife from a mile away. I fought the urge to cause a scene and instead wished them a pleasant meeting with Lord Denys.

“What was that for!? We may be having our differences but if you humiliate me in front of my supporters again, there will be consequences!” I snapped the moment I was reasonably sure they were out of earshot. Laenor merely sat back and took a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of his cup.

Okay, no matter how satisfying it would be to rip the damn cup out of his hand and pour the stupid thing over his head, it’s a poor opening move in marital discussions. Let’s not escalate. It was still hard to force myself back into the chair opposite him, feeling like a child waiting to be told off for something. He finally finished his wine and placed the empty cup onto the table, pointedly ignoring my folded arms and restless leg. For brief moment I thought he was going to pour himself some more and trust me, if he had he’d be wearing the wine, childish or not, but he leant back and studied me.

“Now, you are going to tell me what in the seven hells is going on,” he said, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on them. For all that he was trying to maintain a calm demeanour I could hear the frustration in his voice and it was not a new frustration. It was the frustration of someone who’d been chewing on a problem for years and was in sight of the solution.

“You will have to be more spec-” I started, only to be interrupted by his anger.

“You know damn well what I am speaking of, Rhaenyra!” he roared and I flinched. I couldn’t help it. I fought to control my breathing as he froze in the chair opposite me, watching me as if I were about to shatter. “I am sorry. You have lied to me for so long, I can not bear to hear you lie to me again. So I ask, how did you know about Daemon? Where did the book come from? The plague in the Vale? How- how did you know I had brothers?”

Oh silly Laenor, I thought we’d gotten this out of the way? You see, Daemon treated Alicent and Rhea like crap and I reasonably extrapolated he’d do the same to me as women do not seem to be worth much in his eyes. As for the book, I retrieved that from Runciter’s library, you do remember how my mother read to me every night and instilled in me a love of reading don’t you? How I was an advanced child, precocious and ever exploring? As for it’s true origin you’d need to ask the maesters. As for the plague, illness doesn’t strike just one place and it’s highly suspicious that the man who would benefit from it the most is the one telling everyone about it and honestly it mirrored my situation too much for me to dismiss it. Your brothers? Simple, Joffrey wouldn’t be worried about girls. They couldn’t challenge you in a succession dispute and anyway, Corlys doesn’t think highly enough of girls to suggest them as alternatives even if he loves their mother more than he loves Rhaenys.

Simple, logical explanations. Anyone could have made those decisions with the information I had. You are merely being unreasonably paranoid…

I opened my mouth and found I couldn’t do it. I’d seen him grow and change from a scared young boy into a cool, self-assured man. He’d clawed his way from his Father’s control and begun acting like the future Lord of the Tides. This Laenor in front of me was so completely different than canon and I had put that into motion. He was my husband by law even if I would never have his heart and I couldn’t keep lying to him.

He was supposed to be my greatest ally. If I could not trust him then I could trust no one.

“I… was four.” His head shot up as I started to speak. “One day I… remembered another life. The future, I think, and in that future I had read a book.”

“You remembered the future in which you read a book?” he asked, face etched with disbelief. When you put it like that it did sound fairly ridiculous but what was I to tell him? That I’d been born in this body? That control had come and gone throughout my childhood, that it had been periods of clarity intermixed with a half-remembered dream state, that I’d finally fought my way to the fore only to find I was a child who could do nothing to prevent what was to come.

“You wanted the truth!”

“You are right. I’m sorry,” he said. I scooped up my glass and poured the last of the wine into it before downing as much as possible and taking a deep breath. 

Then I told him. I told him about how the future was supposed to be, about the slow decline of the Targaryen and Velaryon families, about the extinction of dragons about all that would come after. He listened in silence, face only growing graver with every twist and turn. After I had explained the Dance I went further; Aegon Dragonbane, Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Viserys, Aegon the Unworthy, Daeron the Good, Daemon Blackfyre and the Great Bastards, Aerys, Maekar, Aegon the Unlikely, Jaehaerys and finally the Mad King. I spoke of what I knew of their failings and triumphs and how much of it could be traced back to here and now, the Blacks and the Greens.

Two factions that would burn Westeros to the ground in a war it would take generations to recover from, forge precedents that would end the Targaryen dynasty’s hold on Westeros and in all likelhood, result in it’s extermination, as even if Daenerys could hatch three dragons in that distant future she was unlikely to hold it in the face of a winter would herald a second long night.

Afterwards, Laenor was silent for a very long time, processing what I’d told him. Outside, the evening had rolled in and the sky was beginning to darken. A chilly wind made it’s way inside and I shivered.

“So, this is why you’re so certain Alicent will act,” he said quietly. “Father always wondered why you were so keen to escalate court politics to the degree you have. He said it was reckless.”

I chuckled at that but there was no real humour in it. I was still waiting for the reaction, a sign of what his true feelings about this were. He was silent again, body tense as he stared at something in the distance I couldn’t see. It was difficult to breath properly, as if the very air I was breathing was trying to strangle me.

“You will need to write down the exact course of events. Even if they will not happen now, it will still be invaluable. And we will need to tell Joffrey. He… He died in this recounting of history, you said? Then he is an anomaly. It will be useful.”

“Laen-” He held up a hand and drew a deep breath in and out.

“I need time to think this through. I need time. You have just told me I will be murdered b- oh of course. You got rid of Qarl.” I kept my mouth shut but I sensed he wasn’t looking for my answer anyway, he already knew. “So… yes. I need time.”

He rose on unsteady feet and took a moment to gather his bearings before heading to the door. I remained sitting, eyes burning.

“What.. Will you…” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for. Forgiveness maybe? Was forgiveness even possible? I had manipulated him from the beginning, revealing the sheer depths of what I had done to him in one fell swoop.

And I’d been so proud about the changes I’d wrought. My revelation must had ripped the foundations from his world. 

Stupid. Foolish.


	28. Dishonour - Chapter 25

I stayed in my solar until darkness had fallen completely, my minds eye replaying my failures for me, taunting me with how my own pig-headed arrogance had led to this. I could see every mistake, every idea that had seemed a good choice at the time, every triumph that turned out to be a misstep…

Eventually, Rhea came to me bearing a pitcher of wine. She waited for a steward to light the braziers and then dismissed him. After he’d left and she was sure he hadn’t hung around to eavesdrop she poured me a cup of wine and pushed it into my hands. I drank obediently.

“So, your marriage to Ser Laenor is not as happy as previously assumed,” she said quietly, her face looked softer by the light of the flames. She hadn’t poured any wine for herself, I noted.

“I am the one at fault,” I told her, voice as numb as I felt.

“Ser Laenor can be as blameless as he likes, he is not my niece,” she snorted before taking my empty cup and pouring more wine. She waited for me to drink some more before carrying on. “So, niece, care to tell me how you are at fault?”

I was silent as I searched for some way to convey how deeply I’d betrayed his trust without revealing everything to yet another person. How did you explain that you had not truly seen the world as real? That you had thought yourself so above it all that it had not even occurred to you that you were betraying someone trust by manipulating them? Rhea waited patiently, only moving to prod more wine forward when I stopped drinking.

“I was trying to lure him from his Father’s grip. To strengthen the Blacks. He learned various things I said were just manipulations… I…” I choked on the lie and took another swallow of wine. “I lied to him. Betrayed his trust.”

“And pricked his pride whilst you were at it?” she asked. “Men can be terrors when their blood is up. Let him stew on Driftmark for a while, Rhaenyra, he will soon come to realise manipulations or not, you are the best thing that has happened to him.”

I snorted at that. He had probably wanted a quieter life than Prince Consort. A life where he could marry someone sympathetic to his situation, who would produce heirs without his input, a life where he could keep Joffrey close and whole and live out his days with the man he loved and solidifying the gains the Seasnake had made, turning treasures and prestige into a long-lasting legacy.

Instead, he ended up with a wife who saw him as a chess piece, the eyes of the realm on him, the man he loved crippled and distant and the home he was content to stay in closed to him by his Father’s will. He’d been sold to Viserys for Corlys’ vision for a future where the Velaryon house was ascendant.

“Thank you, Aunt Rhea, for being here,” I slurred at her. How much wine had I drunk today? When had I last eaten? “But I fear my marriage to Laenor was the last thing he desired in this world, no matter how much I try convince myself otherwise.”

“Rhaenyra, this is not the end of the world. Your Ser Laenor is fond enough of you, even if I can tell you wish for his heart but can not have it,” her arms circled my shoulders and I found myself sobbing as she pulled me close. “Every relationship has it’s bad times and good times. Give him time. He will realise soon enough that an unstable start does not have to mean a life of misery.”

Like her own relationship with Daemon had worked out so well?

“I am aware of the strangeness of that statement from myself, yes. Daemon is much different to your Ser Laenor. Too proud, too in love with himself and too in love with his ancestry. He hated the idea of tainting his blood, he hated me and he made it clear he would hate any children of ours. Your Ser Laenor lacks his pride, his hate and his anger.”

When I did not respond she released me, sighed and slid the pitcher towards me.

“Drink up, niece. The alcohol will dull the pain tonight and by tomorrow the memory will be further away and hurt you much less.” I did as I was told. She was the expert in husband related grief after all.

When I awoke the next morning it was with vague memories of finishing the pitcher alone. I remembered being on the beach and Joffrey supervising a guard carrying me to my rooms. Maris and Alys wrestling my dress from me before I was allowed to collapse into bed. The Grafton woman coaxing a cool liquid down my throat, lips pursed in equal parts amusement and frustration. Alys’ laughter ringing in my ears at something I had drunkenly mumbled and Maris looking both shocked and embarrassed. 

I forced my eyes open and groaned at the light. Every beam of it felt like ice picks being driven directly into my skull. My head throbbed and my stomach gurgled unpleasantly, telling me that I hadn’t drunk nearly enough non-alcoholic fluids the night before to ward off what was promising to be a really heroic hangover. I pulled the covers up over my face and rolled over, regretting it immediately as my stomach flipped unpleasantly at the motion.

“Awake, Your Grace?” came one of the Twin’s voices. The covers were pried from my hands and pulled back slightly, letting the mid-morning light attack my poor eyeballs once again. I screwed my eyes shut and managed another pathetic groan. A hand on my back, solid and irresistible, pulled me into a half sitting position before the rim of a cup touched my lips.

Juice. I gripped the cup and poured it down my parched throat like it was the nectar of the gods, relinquishing it with a only vague sense of disappointment when it was finally drained. I heard whichever Strong twin was present chuckle before the sound of more liquid being poured alerted me to the possibility of more juice. I risked cracking open my eyes. Sera handed me more juice and some sort of grey concoction.

“Ser Joffrey had Maester Gerardys make that up. He said to make sure you drink all of it,” she said and I felt dread fall over me. Maester Gerardys was an excellent healer. Truly one the best the Maester’s had every produced but the man was terrible when it came to making foul smelling, foul tasting potions. My stomach rolled and I heaved, Sera stepped forward and caught my hand, bringing the Maester’s brew to my mouth. 

I allowed her to direct it into my mouth, too tired and too hungover to summon the wrath that would normally be so easy to come to the fore for such a presumptuous action. The concoction was as disgusting as I’d assumed it would be and it was the work of the moment to keep it in my stomach. I chased it with several cups of juice that Sera was only to happy to provide. Gradually my stomach settled and my headache faded.

Awful they may be but they were effective.

Afterwards I managed to coax my stomach to accept a small bowl of sweetened porridge before summoning my ladies to me. I had to keep it together, both in front of the lesser court here and Westeros at large. I felt like I was going to war as they dressed me and prepared my hair. In a way I was. Every courtesy a shield, every outfit a suit of armour, every barbed comment a sword strike and every vicious rumour an arrow volley.

I set myself entirely to playing the Lady of Dragonstone over the next few weeks as guests from King’s Landing a further afield trickled in to celebrate my eighteenth nameday. Dragonstone was small but I had made my mark and it was never so obvious as in the days leading to my nameday feast. All the ancient splendour of the Targaryen’s original seat in Westeros was on display. From tapestry’s depicting long forgotten Valyrian myths and legends to more recent displays showing the Field of Fire and the Burning of Harrenhal.

One could not throw a pebble in Dragonstone without finding some reminder of Targaryen might. It did wonders for strangling the rumours and questions as to where Laenor was, when I was having children and just who I shared my bed with. Even Rhea had quit making sarcastic remarks regarding my choice of decorating which nothing short for a miracle. Not that her remarks weren’t complete hypocrisy, the Royces might not have quite the amount of bronze and bronze-related products as I did dragons it was a close run thing.

Oh, I was quite sure that in five or so months I’d go back to hating the damn things but here and now? I felt as if I was all alone in the world with only an army of stone dragons at my back.

Not that I was actually alone. Helaena was quite insistent on dragging me to the practise range every morning so that Ser Rogar could terrorise me and she could show off the fact she was improving at a truly startling rate. Jeyne and Jessamyn contrived to fill my free time with laughter and funny stories and my ladies were quick to use their influence to see all those who pestered me or were otherwise inappropriate were ostracised by the female portion of Dragonstone. Rhea made it a point to sit at my side during my many meetings offering whispered advice that in many cases was actually pretty useful.

For all the stress that the guests for the feast caused me -Yes, Harwin had turned up, how did you guess?- there was one arrival that sent my heart soaring. Lord Gerold’s arrival with his Vale delegation at his back, made doubly happy due to it’s lack of Viserys and the whole host of problems he would cause by arriving. Lord Gerold was in fine health and very optimistic regarding his work in King’s Landing. I was glad he did not resent me for his being there and his reunion with his daughter and son made me a little weepy. The fact that he seemed to have come to consider Jeyne as an honorary adopted daughter was genuinely touching. It seemed Westeros could produce decent parents who gave a shit about their daughters, even if they had inconvenient choices in partner.

Even if he had told me he would soon be heading back to the Vale and that Jeyne would be sending another lord to take his place.

The feast went off splendidly. Most of the Lords were Blacks but I did spot a few Greens here and there. How much were Lords sent as Alicent’s spies and how many were thinking of jumping sides was a question I would leave to Joffrey, who remained as vigilant as ever. Many toasts to my health were drunk, much dancing was done and I suspected there would be more than a few maids with rounded bellies soon enough if the celebrations after the feast were anything to go by.

In fact, although I hadn’t thought it possible, politics took a back seat as lords from each side mixed with one another. Cautiously, at first, but as the night wore on and wine flowed the awkwardness melted away. I myself danced with most who asked and were respectful about it. Lord Denys was a surprisingly adept dancer for such a monstrously tall man. I danced with him, Lord Gerold, Ser Hugh Redfort, Forrest Frey, Elmo Tully, Tyland Lannister and even Ser Harwin. Sadly, Joffrey declined my attempts to lure him from his corner and his brooding.

For all the fun that it was, Laenor’s silence began to wear on me and I was glad for the guests beginning to trickle away after the feast was done. Even if it did hurt when a week afterwards, Jeyne Arryn announced her party would be returning to the Vale. I’d been concerned that my marital problems might have impacted the Falcons but it seemed Laenor had sent word that he would meet all of Terrance Arryn’s requests for more funding. But I was still feeling rather fragile and vulnerable when I stood on the docks as they prepared to leave.

“Be well, cousin, and I do hope you reconcile with Ser Laenor. He’s such a charming fellow!” Jeyne said before pulling me into a hug. I returned it and fought the urge to weep into her shoulder.

“Don’t you worry about the clansman, Your Grace, we’ll have them cleared out of those mountains and the Vale moving forward within the year!” Lord Denys boasted. I doubted that but I appreciated the attempt at reassurance.

“Do not forget to write to me, niece, I would hate to come to this dragon-infested island to remind you once more!” Rhea told me sharply and with a hug that told me she really, really wasn’t used to hugging people. There was considerably more elbow than appreciated.

And then the Arryn ships were sailing away into the sunset and I was left alone. Well, not quite, I still had all those Westerosi nobles hanging around.

At least I had Ser Joffrey and my ladies. Well, minus Maris who’d been granted permission to stay a few months in the Vale.


	29. Dishonour - Chapter 26

“I must ask you to thank Ser Joffrey again, Your Grace,” Marya enthused. We’d been discussing her ongoing charity efforts in my name. After our informal banishment Marya had been terrified that without her overseeing it, it would be forgotten, relegated to an afterthought as a political play no longer needed. Apparently, Joffrey had stepped in and provided Marya the name of a trustworthy middle man. Lord Gerold’s Valemen had also been prevailed upon to help out with sermons about the Seven and such.

I was gathering quite the reputation as a devout and charitable woman in King’s Landing. Queen of soup kitchens and orphanages…

“I certainly will, Marya. I must once again praise you for your tireless dedication in the name of the Maiden and the Mother.” Marya seemed to glow at my words. 

“Your Grace, you are too kind but truly I think all women should engage in more charitable works! I can’t imagine looking at those children, all alone in the world and starving, and not wanting to help!”

Marya was genuinely the nicest person I’ve ever encountered. Probably the Westerosi ideal of the perfect woman. She was kind and caring, yearned for children of her own and husband to stand beside her and had more than a passing knowledge of politics she’d mostly acquired in her quest to help said future husband. I mean her only flaw was her ongoing obsession with Ser Byren Hastwyck, Queen’s personal bootlicker.

I do not honestly know if the man has even noticed.

“I require no thanks, Lady Marya, I am a devout follower of the Seven myself and am only to glad to aid in charitable ventures in their name,” said Ser Joffery, as he limped closer. Marya smiled broadly at him. “However, I fear I must steal Her Grace away from you for the moment. Something urgent requires her attention,”

I stamped down on my initial flicker of alarm and directed a smile I didn’t really feel at Marya. Joffrey would not have sought me out unless it was serious and serious almost always meant extremely bad.

“I apologise, Lady Marya, but it seems duty calls,”

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Your Grace, should I let the rest of your ladies know?” she asked, suddenly hesitant.

“If that’s alright, Marya, I don’t want to have you running back and forth if you have other duties.” That was definitely the wrong thing to say for some reason because her eyes widened and she flushed before nodding frantically.

“I was going to accompany the Princess to town. I will see to her immediately.” Then she was off at a speed I’d never seen her reach before without actually running. Joffrey and I watched her go, both of our faces puzzled.

“Do you know what that was about?” I asked after she’d rounded a corner and disappeared.

“I confess I find myself unsure.” He replied. I chuckled at his expression, as if he had gotten so used to knowing everyone’s business not knowing was actually unsettling to him. “Regardless, perhaps I should inform you in my office. I suspect you may be upset at the news.”

My stomach dropped like a stone as I followed him. 

“I require assurances that you will not do anything… rash,” said Joffrey as we sat around his desk. Oh, that really didn’t bode well.

“You have my word that after you have given me this news I will remain seated and listen to you.” I told him. He didn’t look any less worried and my stomach started doing somersaults. 

“I am going to lock the door. You have not been objective in regards to this issue in the past.” I stayed sitting while he limped past me. If it was ‘I need to go burn the Stepstones now’ news he had a window I could probably fit through, the fall wasn’t that long and into water besides. He sat back down and took a deep breath. I mirrored the action and forced myself to calm down.

“Lady Laena has returned to Driftmark. Alone and with only Vhagar for her escort. My spies report that she seemed to be in quite some distress.”

“Daemon?” I asked through gritted teeth, suppressing the urge to seek out Syrax and fly to Driftmark. What kind of distress!?

“They were unable to get closer to find out. Lady Rhaenys and Ser Laenor have been growing more aware of my activities. I would be of the opinion it’s likely his doing.”

Deep breaths. In and out. Count to- No! Fuck this!

“That silly idiot!” I stood and began pacing his office. “I warned her! Did I not!? I told her that Daemon would stop at nothing to have her! I swear if he has harmed her I will kill him, kinslayer or no!”

“Rhaenyra!” Joffrey barked and I turned to him. He was also standing, looking considerably more angry than worried now than. His hands were white with the force he was using to grip the head of his walking cane. 

“Enough! Sit down. This is a delicate situation, we can not risk further driving away the Velaryons.” I glared at him, fists clenched before forcing myself to unclench them and massage the ache from the my hand. Joffrey stood opposite me and nodded, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself.

“You will listen to me. You will stop these tantrums, you are not a child but the future Queen!” I opened my mouth to retort but he shot me a look that knocked my legs from underneath me and I sank back into the chair. “I am your man. I swore myself to you. Truly, I understand your position in this but I can no longer pander to your rages! How much time have we lost because you allowed your anger to blind you to Viserys’ own rage? We can no longer afford for you to sulk at every little thing you dislike! You are eighteen! A woman grown! Sulk and rage in private, yes, but stop doing so in public!”

He retook his own seat and massaged his forehead.

“The Velaryons are your greatest supporters currently, it is not an exggageration to say our ongoing efforts to sway the Lords of Westeros to our cause would be impossible without them. They provide the gold needed for the Falcons, your experiments and your charitable enterprises. I will not pretend to know why Laenor and yourself argued but I will not allow you to drive your most important pillar of support away from you! You are bound to them by marriage but you have yet to bind them to you with loyalty.”

“The marriage tie should be enough!” I shouted before lowering my voice with some effort. “They should be falling behind me. I will tie them to the Royal house for centuries to come.”

“Laenor has fallen behind you. So has Lady Laena for that matter. She dropped her entire plans for travel to stay on Dragonstone with you, might I point out, and believe me not even Corlys has managed that.”

“She has a fine way of showing it,” I grumbled. Joffrey raised an eyebrow and I blushed.

“Lady Rhaenys was once Princess Rhaenys. She was once considered likely to inherit the Iron Throne itself. That was taken from her twice. Corlys is much the same. Now they are both forced by circumstance to support you, the granddaughter and daughter of the men who stole the throne from them. It does not help that Viserys is a… less than adequate king.”

“Less than adequate is a polite was of putting it. So Lady Rhaenys resents me.” I couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by that. 

“Resents you, loves you, wants you to succeed to spite the lords that rejected her and to benefit her son.” I swallowed thickly at that. If Joffrey realised my emotional distress he didn’t show it. “Her greatest priority is her children above all else.”

“And Corlys?” Joffrey’s eyes darkened at the question.

“I would see him humbled,” muttered Joffrey, darkly. “His wishes to rule you and by proxy, Westeros. If we wish to ensure Velaryon loyalty, we must dissaude him of his assumption that he will be anything other than an adviser. But to do that, we must strip his last dragon from his side.”

“So how do we pry Lady Rhaenys from him? As I recall, she’s very in love with him for all that they argue.” Joffrey leant back and steepled his fingers.

“There are the bastards. I have a theory about them.” I nodded for him to continue. “I believe they’re his backups. He doesn’t believe Laenor can produce legitimate children and he’s intending on having one of them inherit instead in return for his tireless work on your behalf. His little scheme is a direct threat to the inheritance of her own children, if Lady Rhaenys were to find out…”

“She’d kill him. And the bastards. And the mother to boot,” I told him, horror growing in my gut. “What proof do you have of this?”

“He’s keeping them close, visits regularly when he’s at Driftmark, has begun seeking out tutors for them.” Joffrey shrugged. “His spies told me he was very interested in having records of just when you and Laenor bedded each other and to report another lover, even a suspected one, immediately to him. I would have suggested it earlier but you seemed intent on keeping them alive. It’s what tipped Laenor off that something was wrong, you know? You gave away the fact you knew they were boys before hand.”

“I am to be Queen and he has to know that I would never approve him raising his bastards over my own husband,” I mused, ignoring Joffrey’s prodding at the cause Laenor and I’s estrangement.

“And if he threatened to publicly named your own children bastards? The Queen already lays the foundations to claim your children illegitimate. Corlys’ denouncement would cement that as fact to Westeros as a whole?”

I paled at that. Is this what he had done in the original timeline? Rhaenyra had named his bastards heirs over her own Joffrey then. A proud woman like her would have found that hard to do, perhaps Corlys had blackmailed her?

“What has Laenor told you about our argument.” I asked, mouth dry. Joffrey watched me, face impassive for a moment.

“Nothing. He came to my offices and asked if I ‘knew’. When he realised I did not, he left without informing me. I confess I have puzzled out some of the details. You have knowledge you should not and frequently make seemingly unsound decisions based around them. Then there is the ‘Book’, Laenor suspected you wrote it. He had a theory that you experienced what the Targaryens call ‘Dragon Dreams’ and had knowledge of the future.” I let out a shaky breath. Laenor had come closer than I’d suspected with his guesses.

“Let’s assume I do have some knowledge of the future.” I began slowly. “Let’s assume those bastards are likely to be very useful to our cause, the kind of useful that sets fire to our problems. I would very much want to keep them around if that were the case.”

“Then we bring the matter to Lady Rhaenys’ attention and direct her retribution along the lines of seizing control of the children.” Joffrey suggested. “Raising them to our way of thinking and making it clear that Corlys has to go along with us if he wishes his legacy to take shape in the way he wants.”

“We can’t use the fact that Corlys attempted to manipulate her into supporting the marriage of her daughter to someone they both know is an unstable wreck on the best of days? A plot that has apparently now backfired with some sort of harm to Laena?” I spat.

“Your feelings on Prince Daemon and Lady Laena are hardly objective. She would eventually figure it out and then she would consider it another manipulation,” he replied.

“Oh I think she’s figured out I want Daemon as far away from me as possible and preferably in the ground,” I told him tartly. He stared at me for a moment then sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. I waited for him to speak again but he seemed to have gotten stuck in his thoughts because he was silent for a long time, staring at his desk.

“Joffrey!” He snapped out of it and brought his eyes up to mine before sighing heavily again and massaging his temples.

“The fact that Lord Corlys has placed Laena into danger with an ill thought out scheme will certainly have Lady Rhaenys furious but Laena is alive and, as far as my spies could tell, unharmed. The threat of the loss of her children’s inheritance will far more effectively show her the consequences of her husbands schemes.” He told me slowly, using his ‘I am talking to an idiot’ voice.

I resisted the urge to respond to that beyond a narrowing of my eyes. He was right, I did need to stop throwing tantrums. Not slapping my spymaster seemed like a good place to start.


	30. Dishonour - Chapter 27

I left Joffrey’s office with a promise to arrange a meeting to explain everything I knew, everything that had so upset Laenor, and orders to prepare rooms for Addam and Alyn of Hull. Probably their Mother too, since I doubted Rhaenys would let the girl stay once she found out about them.

Honestly, it would be a miracle if I could talk Rhaenys out of killing her.

The flight to Driftmark was pleasant enough but for the first time since I had mounted Syrax, riding her did not calm me and Syrax could feel my agitation. It took several more strikes of my whip than usual to keep her on course. I was wound up, worrying about Laena and what Daemon could have done.

Laenor met me, arms crossed but looking completely unsurprised as I scrambled off of Syrax.

“I should not be surprised you are here.” He said, sounding exhausted. “How much did Joff tell you?”

“That Laena was back and probably not with good news,” I replied, keeping my voice level. There was no sign of the grief that I had last seen on his features. Instead, he just looked worried and as on edge as I felt.

“Mother will not be happy but perhaps it is for the best you have come. Follow me.” I did so, worry growing in my stomach. Joffrey had mentioned she appeared unharmed but that didn’t preclude any number of smaller injuries or even the mental ones Daemon was capable of inflicting. Had Laena fled from him like I had all those years ago? Was Lord Corlys okay? As much as it pains me to admit it, if Daemon had hurt Laena in some manner, Corlys would see him dead. Daemon was not the type of man that was easy to murder, if Lord Corlys had been harmed…

I barely paid attention to the rich halls of High Tide and the servants scrambling this way and that. To say the entire castle was on alert would not be an understatement. Had they been like this since Laena’s return a few days ago? Laenor was not exactly a font of answers to my questions. All he did was get tenser and tenser until we finally made our way up twisting stairs into the Lord’s Solar.

Rhaenys was there, flanked by two men I had never seen before but had the valyrian colouring. All three had clearly been facing an angry Laena, whose hands were balled into fists and who looked as if she were three seconds away from suggesting they handle their differences atop Vhagar and Meleys. Although given how angry Rhaenys looked in turn I suspected she was three seconds away from accepting such an invitation happily.

“Cousin, why is she here? This is Velaryon business!” The older man barked, examining me as he would something he’d discovered stuck to his shoe. The younger looking one did not seem any more sympathetic to me.

“I married into this family. It’s problems are my own,” I replied, keeping my eyes on Laena, searching for evidence as to what could have happened. Rhaenys scoffed.

“Vae, Mal, please. She is my wife, after all. Is it so odd that she wishes discover the source of our recent… issues.”

“Her problems are only our problems when she wants our gold, money or prestige, Cousin!” said the man I suspected was Vaemond Velaryon. In another life he dies attempting to claim Driftmark, was that ambition in him now?

“And her problems are only ours when we want the throne through her. Do not act like she brings nothing to the family in return,” Laenor replied testily. “Or would you also claim my own Mother not worthy of being here? She married my Father for the same reason after all.”

Vaemond’s retort died in his throat as he snapped his mouth shut so fast I heard his teeth crack together. The one Laenor had addressed as Mal turned to the Queen Who Never Was and gave a hopeless shrug. I stepped past them all and approached Laena who didn’t relax, worryingly, but did unball her fists and make an effort to appear less murderous.

“What happened?” I asked, as she desperately tried to avoid meeting my gaze. She opened her mouth.

“Laena happened,” replied Laenor, cutting off whatever remark his Sister was about to make. She slammed her mouth closed and shot him a glare. In response, Laenor folded his arms, unmoved by her anger. I turned back to her and she met my eyes for the first time and then she flushed in an odd mix of shame and defiance.

“I did nothing wrong. We did nothing wrong! Rhaenyra I know you and Daemon have had your differences but-”

“You slept with him?” I snapped. She set her jaw and met my gaze and then nodded stiffly. White hot anger caused my vision to dim and my hand throb in pain.

She slept with him. The man who was already a monster. She slept with him.

“Here. Since my children are so keen to spill all our secrets to you.” Rhaenys handed me a letter bearing the Velaryon seal. I snatched it from her and skimmed my eyes over it’s contents. Then I stopped and went back and read it again, slowly this time.

Corlys wrote of how he had discovered the affair between Laena and Daemon, that Laena had discovered she was pregnant, had fled in the aftermath in a rage when he’d suggested moon tea. That Rhaenys was to hold Laena on Driftmark whilst Corlys sailed home and figured out what to do.

My breath came harder to draw. She was pregnant! I’d told her, I’d fucking told her! I warned her about Daemon, about how he set out to charm and seduce. She’d promised me to my fucking face! She’d sworn an oath! 

I handed the letter back to Rhaenys and tried to bring my thoughts into some sort of order so that I didn’t do exactly as Joffrey had warned me not to. Deep breaths didn’t seem to help. The room grew narrow and my teeth hurt as I ground them together.

I couldn’t drive her away. I couldn’t. I’d be driving away Vhagar. I couldn’t lose her to Daemon. What could I do? 

This is impossible!

“I’d say our Princess isn’t in your corner either,” observed Rhaenys, dragging me back into the room. Laenor was next to me, hand raised as if to grab me in case I did anything rash like charge his stupid idiot of a sister.

“I will not kill my child!” Laena shot back, hand over her stomach protectively. I felt sick as hate and anger twisted it’s way through my gut. We’d given her every warning we could and she’d promptly ignored it all and leapt into his bed. How long had the affair lasted? Had she been writing to me and fucking him at the same time? Did she feel any guilt whatsoever?

Did she realise how fucked she was? That not even riding a dragon would save her?

“And what will you do? Bear a bastard!? It would ruin you!” snapped Laenor.

“He will not be a bastard! Daemon will marry me.” I laughed at that. A strangled, disbelieving laugh. Laena turned those fierce violet eyes on me. She believed it. She honestly believed he could marry her. 

Stupid, stupid fool!

“My Uncle is married. To a woman in good health and younger than him,” I told her. “And I really, really wish you good luck in convincing my Father to annul the marriage of Jeyne Arryn’s chief bannerman.”

Laena’s eyes flickered uncertainly to her Mother who looked as if she agreed with everything I had just said but hated the fact it was me she was agreeing with. Then they flickered to her Brother, who I noted was nodding along to the point, expression as grim as I’d ever seen it.

“We are the blood of Old Valyria. Aegon had two wives, why shouldn’t Daemon?” 

“Cousin! Be reasonable, no good Septon would ever marry you to an already married man! The child would still be a bastard!” cried the one called Mal whose full name I could not recall.

“And! We are the blood of Old Valyria! Why should we care what others think!?” Rhaenys marched forward and seized her daughter by the arms. Laena flinched backwards, shock evident on her face at the sheer fury etched into her Mother’s face.

“The only reason I have not slapped you girl is because you repeat his lies! Ask Maegor why we should pay attention to the laws of the land!” Laena pulled herself free of her Mother and scowled.

“Then I will take my dragon and fly back and be with him!”

“Then you will have nothing from us!” her Mother bellowed. “How long will you last without your Father’s fleets? His money!? How long until some cutthroat stabs you to get at Daemon? How long before your baby is taken from his cradle to hurt you!?”

“Perhaps we could hide the pregnancy? Hide the bastard? She could still raise it but we just wouldn’t acknowledge it to be hers?” suggested Vaemond. 

“I will not abandon my child! I will not hide it!” At the exclamation I wanted to dash her head against the wall until she saw sense. I knew the problem. It was the same reason I couldn’t invite her to go back to my lying bastard of an Uncle and stew in the consequences. She rode Vhagar, last of the conqueror's dragons. She’d been told all her life that made her special, now she assumed it left her above the consequences for breaking such an integral part of society.

“Marriage then,” I said. “Marriage to a Lord loyal to your Father who will overlook the bastard.”

Rhaenys shook her head, face doubtful.

“I can not think of one worthy of her hand that will overlook the bastard. That would allow her to raise it alongside it’s trueborn siblings. Besides, to propose a marriage to any lord of sufficient status would require months of negotiations, she would be showing by then!” said Mal.

“Then after she gives birth?” Mal shook is head, face a mask of unhappiness.

“Any man would spot the signs of pregnancy. If we failed to tell him before the bedding we’d… I truly dread to think of the consequences for our family,” 

“You have to have bannerman on the island you can trust?” I asked, desperately. Rhaenys shook her head and was about to answer when Laena cut in again, evidently annoyed that we were speaking about her as if she wasn’t in the room.

“I do not need to marry! I will have the child here and return to Daemon! He will have me,” she told us. At the look on my face Laenor placed a warning hand on my shoulder.

Think of what will happen if literally anyone other than you has Vhagar. Do not knifefd Vhagar’s rider whilst you still need Vhagar.

“Laena be reasonable. We are not above those in Westeros. Even ignoring the fact that the Father is a man banished for reasons best left unsaid, you will not enjoy bearing a bastard. Westeros will not forgive you bearing a bastard,” he told her, voice gentle. He loved his older sister dearly, I knew, and seeing her happily walking off a cliff was likely painful for him.

Laena’s eyes flickered to me and back to her Brother. Laenor stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I have an idea. One that promises us both chance to be happy,” he said in a low voice. She focused on him. Vaemond and Mal craned their heads closer to hear but Rhaenys jabbed at them, forcing them to give her children privacy. “Marry Joffrey. He is a second son, he can take your name. He will claim your child. You can still carry on with Daemon, produce as many children as you want and Joffrey will say nothing to gainsay you.”

Her face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“I will not marry your lover!” she hissed. In the corner of my eye, Rhaenys went white. Oh fuck she didn’t know. Oh fuck. My anger evaporated and was replaced with sheer terror that Rhaenys should learn this in such a manner. Her eyes travelled to me and her lips almost disappeared in displeasure. I swallowed and tried to catch Laena’s eye, desperate for her to back track but she was to focused on Laenor.

“Laena please! We can not marry you to another man, Joffrey is trustworthy, tales of your romance will be credible and-”

“You get to drape him in our colours! Your wife is stood not a few paces away,” And your Mother is too I tried to communicate through complicated eyebrow wiggling and desperately rolling my eyes in her direction. They still did not pay attention.

“You can not marry Daemon. You will not get a betrothal that allows you to raise your child alongside your trueborn ones. You will not be allowed to stay on Driftmark if you remain unmarried. Rhaenyra will not take a woman with a bastard as a lady,” said Rhaenys, voice like ice and both her children jumped, both turning an identical shade of white as they realised she’d heard everything. “And your Father will not allow a marriage to Joffrey Lonmouth.”

“What if we betroth her to a young lord? A child? Then hide her babe? Surely nobody would be able to tell?” came Mal’s voice, clearly not understanding what had just occurred. Vaemond elbowed him in the ribs. I ignored them.

“Lord Corlys is not the problem. He will not speak out against the marriage publicly if we hold Addam and Alyn and if it’s prestige you are worried about I will grant Joffrey land when I am Queen, enough for future dragonriders.” A fierce guilt began burning in my gut as Rhaenys’ eyes lit up at the mention of land. I had a sinking feeling I’d just sealed her fate. She was going to marry a man she did not want because I’d done everything in my power to force it.

Oh gods, Vhagar better be worth this.

“Who are Addam and Alyn?” asked Rhaenys in a dangerous purr.


	31. Dishonour - Chapter 28

Laenor brought Joffrey to Driftmark on the back of Seasmoke and made a good show of being angry with him, even as the almost gentle way he was manhandling the knight was at odds with the anger in his tone. Joffrey, in turn, made a good show of apologising and swearing that he would shame his friend no further as Laenor frogmarched him through the gates of High Tide. Laena and I watched from the balcony in her rooms.

She still wanted Daemon, I could tell. It had taken a private meeting with Laenor to get her to finally agree. The thought of him and her made me want to mount Syrax and reduce his fucking islands to cinders.

My body burned with the intensity of my anger at my bastard of an Uncle.

“Do you truly wish to marry him?” I asked, voice thick. I wanted her to say no. I wanted her to acknowledge what kind of man he was.

“I do! Seven help me I do! I do not want to marry Joffrey!” She scowled at the courtyard before dashing away tears. “Laenor says he wants me for Mother’s claim. That even if he did someone how wed me, it would mean Laenor’s death so he could claim me Rhaenys’ true heir.”

Someone was getting creative with their lying. Laenor must have remembered the details of his canon murder. Still in that time line, Daemon had killed him for Rhaenyra only after Laena died in childbirth. I tried to picture the massive bulk of Vhagar, reminding myself that letting literally anyone else have it -coughAemondcough- would be really, really bad. 

Laena was an idiot but she valued her family.

“He is in love with the idea of power. You would not be the first he has used to obtain it.” She sobbed and guilt flared in my gut, making me feel queasy. It was for her own good, she’d die if she went with Daemon. Die trying to reach the skies one last time and being denied.

And I’d lose a dragon.

“You’d better get to finishing those letters of yours. Laenor’s forger will need them before long,” I said and made a hasty exit, leaving her to her writing. My own letter to the King was not coming on exceptionally well. I’d already re-written it several times. Too much detail, not enough detail, too many inconsistencies, the plot of Corlys’ too obvious and too much like an accusation… This one was a lot more promising at least.

First I had laid out the supposed details of the false affair with Joffrey; that it had started in the aftermath of our banishment and Corlys moving her to the Stepstones had been to put a stop to it. I hinted about Corlys’ plan to marry her to Daemon somehow, implied it caused her desperate flight from the Stepstones into the arms of her lover. That her arrival had tipped both Laenor and I off that something was wrong and the subsequent scandalous discovery of their passion. Passion grown from a childhood together where Joffrey had been her Father’s page and then squire and finished by telling him, for proprieties sake, that Laenor and I had arranged a match be made between the two.

I suspect he’d be too relieved at the Velaryon making a match with someone unlikely to upset his precious court politics to look into whether my lies matched up timeline-wise. The story was neat, depressingly common and just interesting enough to get the gossips going for a few days or so before something else came along to steal their interest. If Corlys refused our terms and pushed Daemon forward as responsible, Viserys would be able to point to the letter and name it a ploy. Alicent would know it for what it was instantly but not be able to prove and even if she could, she would not want to help Daemon find a new wife.

Alicent was out to prove the saying ‘A woman scorned’.

Still as simple as it sounded on the surface it was the words that refused to come in a way that did not promise to offend him. I would have to have Joffrey look it over once Laenor had finished making a spectacle for the more obvious spies to pick up on. Oh, we’d make a show of hiding it later but it was important Westeros saw what they thought was the truth instead of the actual truth. Once they had an explanation that fit their prejudices, most would stop looking.

After I’d finished with my awful attempt at diplomacy with Viserys, I sought out my Husband. We had unfinished business, words still to say. Gods, could Laena have waited a few more months? He was in his Father’s solar, busy letting people know of the upcoming wedding. When I entered he rose from the desk and faced me, arms crossed. I felt like a child caught in a lie.

“I am truly sorry,” I said in the silence. He gave me a small smile and moved around the desk, coming to me and placing his hands on my shoulders.

“I know you are. Just…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I spoke to Joffrey. He helped.”

I probably shouldn’t kiss Joffrey but I kind of wanted to.

“You must stop acting like we are pieces you can move about the Painted Table. We are people. We can help. Share this burden with us.”

“I understand.” He smiled and let his hands drop. It wasn’t a complete healing of the rift that had sprung between us but it was a promise things would get better.

I hesitated before asking my next question. “How is your mother?”

Rhaenys had barricaded herself in her rooms, refusing to see anyone but the maids that brought her food to her. Laenor, Laena and I had tried to coax her out to no avail. The only time any of us had gotten a reaction it had been a scream of rage and the sound of several things shattering as they were thrown against the wall.

“Still…” he trailed off. His face was drawn though. In truth I was surprised she hadn’t know but then her weakness had always been her children. “She will not speak to me. Or Laena.”

I held him close. She likely saw what he was as a betrayal. She’d tried to make him king once and then had married him to a future Queen. To learn those cruel rumours about him were true... 

Add in the fact her daughter was pregnant with a bastard, her husband having bastard children that were potentially there to unseat her own and I could see her logic in hiding away from the world for a while. I’d probably do worse in her shoes. In fact, only smashing a few things would be downright restrained. Perhaps she was onto something with her tales of Dragon Rages.

“Your Mother is not the type to hide for long. I have no doubt she will inflict herself on us soon enough. Besides, would she miss Laena wed? Even if it’s a farce?”

“No,” he mumbled, burying his face in my neck. “Speaking of which, how goes the planning?”

Oh gods, do not get me started on the wedding.

With Rhaenys refusing to leave her rooms, I was the closest thing Driftmark had to a Lady of Hightide, and so most of it had fallen on me and let me tell you, Driftmark was no Dragonstone! 

For a start, I’d been forced to do everything by hand practically. Food, singers, wine… On Dragonstone I would have given the order for a feast and had several taster menus and wine suggestions by the evening of the next day. I could desire entertainment and my men would be able to ask me what kind and procure it from a pre-approved list of acceptable candidates.

And on Dragonstone, I would not have to fight to have my orders followed by the staff!

Hazel Velaryon, born a Harte and the young gooddaughter of Vaemond Velaryon, was determined to stake her claim on the title of Lady of High Tide and had gathered a goodly number of relatives to her proverbial banner. I’d lost count of how many times I’d had to threaten the chef into changing the menu back from some ridiculous change she’d made or fire the singers she’d hired without my leave.

Infuriating!

One evening it boiled over and I was all but ready to march her out to feed her to Syrax when finally the true Lady of High Tide emerged from her rooms. Immaculately dressed, bathed and looking every inch the beauty she was purported to be in full Targaryen colours. Which was odd because she normally shied away from red and black despite still bearing the Targaryen name.

“Mother’s tits! I am indisposed for just a few days and you’ve all but drawn swords on one another! This is my daughter’s wedding you are fouling up. Well you shall do so no longer!” She had bellowed, striding into the hall as if the past few days had not happened.

And that had been that. We all awkwardly avoided the topic of Laena, Laenor or the Bastards and she in turn acted as if the revelation had never occurred. Well, apart from the fact she refused to even brook wearing her usual teal ensemble. 

The Lonmouth’s had sailed in a week later and they had apparently decided to bring everyone that could even claim the name in reinforcements. Joffrey’s parents, siblings, cousins and distant relatives had all presented themselves to Laenor with apologies for his behaviour. To say his Father had been angry to discover his son was giving up his name had been an understatement. Laenor had been secluded with him for quite some time before the Lonmouth patriarch had finally given in and offered his blessings for the match.

After all the relevant actors were assembled, the preparations took on a rushed feeling. The only thing that could foul our plan now was Corlys arriving early. As his Heir Apparent, Laenor was Corlys’ voice on Driftmark whilst he was not present. That he knew Corlys would not approve of what he was doing meant he was already toeing the line of Westerosi legality with arranging the wedding. If Corlys turned up and said no, things would become complicated.

It was a relief when the day arrived and there were no signs of his fleet on the horizon.

The halls of High Tide were decked out with bunting, the smallfolk had been given the day off from their usual work and anyone who had any claim to fame had crowded into the reasonably large Sept that had been raised alongside the new castle. As Laenor’s wife and a Princess to boot I was given pride of place in the front rows next to Rhaenys.

Laenor gave his sister away and I could see how she flinched when her brother took her hand and how he looked pained in turn. She paused as she saw Joffrey, to the untrained eye it probably looked as if she were momentarily overwhelmed but I could tell it was reluctance that caused her to still. 

Even miserable, she was jaw-droppingly beautiful in a white samite dress, the train of which bore seahorses made of emeralds and which the silver lace was so delicate I feared it would tear. I wondered where they had time to find such a piece but then again, it was likely it had been made when the contract with Tycheo was made. After all such a piece must have been hundreds of hours of work!

Once upon a time, the Seasnake had intended for his children to have only the best.

There was a tense moment as the Septon began saying the vows where she remained silent for a beat to long but she eventually said them. Once that panic was over, I allowed my thoughts to wander. Perhaps I was being to harsh on the Lord of the Tides, turning him into a villain frothing at the mouth. His actions did make sense in a twisted, Westerosi way, I supposed, and it annoyed me so much that I could see that. 

He’d betrothed his son to a Princess who would become Queen and only begun seeking his bastards when he came to suspect his son would be a cuckold. He’d tried to marry his daughter to the next Sea Lord and then schemed to marry her to a Prince he assumed he could control. He’d fought for his Wife’s claim on the Throne twice and nearly started a civil war the second time round.

In front of me, the differences between a normal wedding and a wedding in which the Groom gives up his name to join the brides family became apparent. There was no cloaking of the bride in his own house colours but nor did Laena cloak him. To admit you were relying on your wife’s protection, even symbolically, was too much for the normal Westerosi male.

Actually scratch that, it was too much for even Joffrey and Joffrey was the most cosmopolitan and urbane guy I’d ever met in Westeros.

Joffrey divested himself of his house colours, handing them to his Father with a bow. The man took them and I thought I saw a teary eye there for a moment. Then Laenor stepped forward and, as acting Lord of the Tides and head of House Velaryon, handed Joffrey a cloak of sea green and silver. Joffrey took it and their hands brushed over one another.

Next to me, I heard Rhaenys inhale sharply as she noticed.

There was a respectful silence as Joffrey was cloaked in Velaryon colours and returned to Laena’s side. They faced one another. Joffrey looked every part the nervous groom who knew he was marrying far above his station. Laena looked like she was seconds away from vomiting on him which… okay, not the end of the world. People are always nervous at their weddings, right?

Vhagar, Vhagar, Vhagar, Vhagar… think of the really big dragon you don’t want your dick of an Uncle or psychopath of a Brother to get their hands on.

“With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my Lord and Husband.”

“With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my Lady and Wife.”

“I do declare these children of the Seven man and wife; one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever!”

And then it was time for the feast.


	32. Dishonour - Chapter 29

The feast was hardly seventy-seven dishes and not even close what someone of Laena’s station would normally warrant. She was making a show of looking happy from her position next to Ser Joffrey but I could tell it was strained. As the dancing began, I caught her attention.

“How are you faring?” I asked, dropping into Ser Joffrey’s abandoned seat and making a point of being polite for Joffrey’s sake. Rhaenys had requested a dance and the poor man hadn’t been brave enough to refuse. From the looks on both their faces and Rhaenys’ lips moving I’d say the new Velaryon was having a not-so-friendly warning about which of the siblings he was interested in bedding. Laena followed my gaze and sighed.

“Mother blames him, you know?” I raised my eyebrow at her and she blushed, more red coming to her cheeks that were already flushed from the wine. “On the upside, she thinks you’ve the patience of the Mother now! She thought you and Joffrey were lovers.”

Oh geez, that explains a lot.

“Whilst I’m happy Lady Rhaenys no longer rates me as a homewrecker, I asked if you were well.” She regarded me through violet eyes for a moment before a small smile crept across her face.

“Homewrecker? You say such odd things sometimes, Rhaenyra.” I was about to take her to task for ignoring the question again when she sighed and answered. “I am as well as can be. It’s just… a hard thing to swallow. I don’t want this and yet Laenor says if I do not, I risk everything.”

She still believed that somehow he would marry her if she just went to him. Laenor’s lies may have wrestled an agreement out of her but it was clear she found them hard to weigh against her feelings. I cursed my Uncle again and forced a pleasant smile onto my face. I did not know what it would take to get her to see the truth. I’d laid out his desire for power, Laenor had ‘speculated’ as to his motives for the affair. She seemed genuinely wary of him but still proclaimed to love him..

Remember, you need the dragon. Don’t slap her silly, you really want her dragon.

One of her drunker cousins clambered to his feet and Laena tensed. The dreaded call for the bedding could come at any moment after all. I had hated my own bedding, being lifted into the air and stripped by a gang of drunken, lusty men. Worse still, they hadn’t exactly held back on grabbing what they could reasonably write off as an accident to their equally drunk fellows. My body had been a mess of bruises the next morning and Laenor hadn’t fared much better, the women had turned out to be just as grab happy as the men.

And some of the jokes and suggestions they’d shouted! I had been much older than the seventeen they thought me and remembering some of them still made me blush.

The drunken cousin merely called for another toast to the health of the newlyweds to the immediate happiness of the hall. A few more toasts followed and I was glad for the amount of food I’d managed to choke down. Had I drunk this much on a normal meal I’d probably be passed out in a corner right now. We settled into a companionable silence and watched the revellers party. Rhaenys eventually released Ser Joffrey who staggered his way up to us looking as if he’d just been fighting for his life, although given the look Rhaenys shot at his back, that might not be too far off.

He sat next to us and commandeered some wine, draining the mug. 

“I haven’t asked how you’re holding up,” I said, feeling guilty. Laenor had been the one to lay our plan out for him and persuade him to go along with it. I had barely had time to ask him how he was doing. He was marrying Daemon’s seconds as disgusting as that concept was, claiming his bastard as his own. The fact that the marriage would not be a happy one went without saying as Laena still looked vaguely discontent even when she was supposed to be playing the blushing bride.

“Well enough. I will not complain that I have been given a beautiful bride, a chance to serve the future Queen and the esteem of the future Prince Consort,” his gaze drifted to Laenor, who was entertaining some of his female cousins. “Giving up the Lonmouth name… it is a painful thing but I… it is needed.”

“Do you intend to reconcile with Laenor?” asked Laena, leaning over me so that Joffrey could hear her lowered voice. She still felt guilty she’d outed him to her Mother I gathered. Even decked out in her wedding gown, she still smelt of dragon and the sea air.

“I hope to-” He was cut off.

“The bedding!” Laena snapped back into her chair and shot me a terrified look as the first call went up and was echoed by most of the hall. Men and women surged forward, Laenor leading the men, shooting glares at some of the dirtier guests. Joffrey didn’t look so much better, he was trying to compose his face into his default but the trapped look in his eyes gave it away. Did anyone actually enjoy this tradition?

Was it cruel to make them go through with it?

I fell in beside Joffrey and helped the crowd of women lift him, paying special attention to his leg so that it did not pain him. Some of the lesser Velaryon’s complained about how fiddly it made shucking him out of his clothes but were hushed either by his sister or, surprisingly, Lady Rhaenys herself. Still, they managed to strip him and both myself and Rhaenys managed to ensure he wasn’t dropped on the way before he was carried inside the set of rooms he would share with Laena and dropped onto their marriage bed. He was as red as a tomato as we left with some of our group still calling out decidedly lewd suggestions for the bedding itself.

We met Laenor’s group coming out as they delivered a naked and equally as embarrassed Laena. He moved back back to stand at my side as she was dropped next to Joffrey and given the last few ribald comments. I caught her eye as the door was closed and tried not to think about how horrified she looked by the whole ordeal. Laenor clapped his hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry so much about her, she’s hardly a stranger to-” His Mother’s meaningful cough cut us off. 

“I think it’s time we had a chat. Just us two, don’t you?”

It was with a growing sense of doom that we trailed away from the crowds still shouting their crude phrases and headed towards the Lord’s solar. It was hard to tell who was more tense out the three of us but it was certainly a close run competition. I turned down her offer of wine when we were finally seated, which she promptly ignored by pushing a goblet into my hands.

“So,” she said, eyes flicking between us as we sat there. I didn’t know about Laenor but I felt much like a naughty schoolchild, right now.

“So,” parroted Laenor, looking disturbingly cool about the whole business. He was ready to come out of skin though, he’d been waiting for the other shoe to fall with his Mother since she’d taken control of the preparations and emerged from her rooms. Now it seemed it was time. I placed my hand on his and he spared me a small smile.

“I don’t understand that. Those little things. Did you practice?” she said, nodding to our entwined hands. 

“Not really. It’s a gesture of comfort,” I replied as Laenor stared at our hands as if he’d never given it much thought before. Rhaenys nodded and shifted. We were quiet for some time longer. At a few points she opened her mouth to ask some question or other only to close it once more.

“You will not have children then?” she finally asked in a small voice. I’d never heard her so… dismayed. My heart ached.

“Rhaenyra assures me there are ways around my… condition,” Laenor said and Rhaenys’ eyes came to rest on me. Whilst it was true there were ways, I had never assured him so to my knowledge. Still, I nodded along.

“And they would be his? My grandchildren in truth?” she asked.

“Yes. No other man involved,” I assured her. She nodded to herself before taking a deep and shuddering breath and I realised this woman who’d faced down a King and his entire court, who in another time would fight two dragonriders by herself, was dangerously close to having a complete breakdown.

I wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

“I am sorry that I am not the son you wanted, Mother, but I will not stand before you and pretend I’m ashamed of myself. I love Joffrey-” His voice broke and I wasn’t sure who I wanted to comfort more. Rhaenys laughed through her tears suddenly and pulled her son close.

“Not the son I wanted. You fool! I do not pretend to understand and I do not pretend to approve but you are my son. I have been so proud of you in these past few days.” They both curled close to one another and I felt like an intruder in this family moment. “And you, I do not pretend to know how you can put up with this behaviour but… I thank you for not telling the world.”

I jumped as she addressed me before shooting her small smile. It seemed Laena hadn’t been wrong about her change in perspective.

“I thought you too keen to play the helpless baby bird, needing to be rescued. To keen to let others do your work for you but…” I cried a little. I couldn’t help it. “I am sorry.”

Everyone was a little weepy after that although I still avoided the wine. Laenor and Rhaenys had no such compunction and each made surprising inroads into a pitcher as Laenor came completely clean with his mother, explaining away her queries and worries. Eventually, with me providing support for a much more wobbly Laenor, we reached our rooms and fell into bed. He was smiling so widely I thought he’d break his face and I fell asleep listening to him chuckling to himself.

The castle was quiet the next morning with most of it’s occupants nursing splitting headaches and the other symptoms of a hangover. No one had held back in their drinking and even I was missing Gerardys’ cure-alls, no matter how foul they tasted. I stuck with mint tea and bread with an array of fruit preserves to dip it in to settle my troubled stomach.

Afterwards I dragged Laenor to the practise yard to help me with my archery. Ser Langward would only find new and cruel ways to torture me if I slacked off without him around. Not that Laenor was much help, curled up in the corner and cursing the sun, wine and his headache. Joffrey and Laena arrived soon after, arms entwined and looking every inch the happy couple. I took pride in how wide her eyes were as she watched me land arrow after arrow on the target. Still a little haphazard in their placement but at least I didn’t embarrass myself by shooting a passing servant or something as equally ridiculous.

We chatted about nonsensical things for a while, each dancing around our own little awkward topic. Joffrey and Laenor regarding their still clear love for one another, Laena and Laenor regarding the fact she’d slept with the man he loved last night, Joffrey and I due to the promise of my future knowledge and Laena and I due to the terrible gut burning guilt that welled up when I thought of how I’d forced her into a marriage she’d didn’t want for a selfish need of her dragon and how it clashed with the utter rage that she’d slept with the man that had all but maimed me.

“… and now I have the most horrid bruise in the most awkward place. I swear that man is a menace!” Laena was telling Laenor, who was listening with clear amusement and a little bit of trepidation. Their relationship was shaky, currently, and it would need time for them to return to the easy way they’d had about them before.

“Back from your thoughts?” Joffrey asked quietly.

“It is nothing, Ser Joffrey,” I said, unable to shake the feeling I’d made a terrible mistake.


	33. Dishonour - Chapter 30

Seasmoke and Meleys were restless. They were lay about the beach, basking in the mid-day sun alongside my own Syrax, but I could see signs of their displeasure. It was reassuring in a way, it meant that their riders were all equally as restless and less likely to do something foolish like side with Daemon. Since I’d made it very clear I’d take a dim view of anyone that did so. It was less reassuring that Laena’s Vhagar was no where to be seen.

I shifted with anxiety once more. Caraxes had been sighted. I should have forseen that Corlys would bring Daemon. That Daemon would impulsively gamble his head and kingdom for a better chance at Laena’s bed…

Corlys had left a large part fleet anchored at Bloodstone by all reports and had taken only his flagship, the Seasnake, and a small escort back to Driftmark. The ship was his pride and joy and I could see why. It dwarfed any other ship I’d seen, practically a floating castle of wood and steel. It boasted a reinforced frame and the ability to carry far more soldiers than any mere cog or galley. Anything it didn’t immediately smash and sink in a ramming action would soon find itself up against Corlys’ finest men, all with top notch equipment and training.

You had to hand it to him, there was a reason Viserys wasn’t quite willing to let the idea of him being Master of Ships go.

“Never one to arrive without a fanfare,” Rhaenys muttered from somewhere to my left. I couldn’t bring myself to smile, to wound up, too tense. Next to me, Laenor was much the same. We had decided not to hide the new addition to the family and had simply started out by draping Joffrey in as much teal and silver as we possibly could without him looking too ridiculous. That, combined with the arm thrown around a tense Laena’s waist, would hammer home the point far better than any spoken word could.

As the ship began docking, Caraxes landed on the beach. The reaction of the other dragons was instant and noticeable. Syrax had begun outright snapping and snarling, Seasmoke had risen from his prone position, sending a spray of sand across the beach as it dug impossibly deep grooves with his legs. Only Meleys had not moved or reacted much but I could see the eyes of the scarlet dragon trained on the newcomer in warning. As if sensing the danger, Caraxes claimed a stretch of beach much further up and the dragons calmed.

I dragged my eyes away from them and refocused on the human arrivals. Corlys was easy to pick out amongst his men. He was the centre of the whirlpool of activity, passing down commands in one moment and laughing along with his men the next. I could not see Daemon though. He was the arrogant type. He wouldn’t slink off the ship to go hide. He’d flaunt breaking his banishment, he’d want a grand entrance side by side with the Seasnake in the shadow of Westeros’ greatest ship so that all would know he had returned.

So where was he?

“Where is he?” Laenor asked, unknowingly echoing my thoughts.

Then as if on cue, a tall figure bounded down the gangplank to the cheers of the men below. It was undeniably him. My body stirred with interest and I hated myself. He was beautiful. Not in the way Laenor was, his features were thicker but valyrians didn’t do ugly and Daemon was beautiful by our standards too.

“Just be ready for some kind of trick,” I replied. He nodded, pale. He wasn’t looking forward to what would come. He might have skirted disobeying his Father before but this… this was far past rebellion. I rubbed my thumb across the back of his hand and he squeezed mine in return. 

Next to us Laena was tense in Joffrey’s arms, looking deeply unhappy. Joffrey had been upset, he’d wanted more time to poison Laena thoroughly against my Uncle. Without that time Laena was in danger of falling right back under his sway. Given the way she was watching the swaggering figure following the Seasnake, I suspected he had quite the challenge on his hands.

Joffrey had told us we must see her as a battleground, each fighting for influence over her. He had the fact she loved him but we had the promise of a better future for her child and the esteem of her family. He’d told me, made a point of it, that I should be extra nice. No anger. No rejection. I was to be the face of his efforts to win Laena over.

I could see the exact moment Corlys saw Joffrey and realised what they had done. He actually stopped, the polite smile fell from his face as he fought with what was clearly rage and frustration. He had moved his daughter about the board like a chess piece and he was just now realising that she had, at some point, gotten up and walked off leaving him in check. His eyes went from his daughter and new goodson to his son, where they narrowed in accusation.

Daemon came to a halt behind him, eyes narrowing as he too realised. His had fell to Dark Sister and I mentally reminded myself where I had my knives and how to retrieve them from the folds of my dress as quickly as possible.

Rheanys was the first to greet them, sweeping forth and pulling her husband into an embrace that I was almost certain included hissed instructions in his ear and the threat of broken ribs because when she pulled away he’d managed to arrange his face into something more polite if a little strained.

Something similar occurred with Daemon although with far less success given he still looked furious as they reached us, hand still tapping the hilt of the legendary blade of Queen Visenya.

“Lord Father, welcome home.” Laenor said as we stepped forward, giving his Father a polite bow which Corlys acknowledged with a stiff nod. “Prince Daemon, welcome to High Tide!”

Daemon’s lips peeled back into a snarl but he returned the greeting after Rhaenys not so subtly elbowed him in the side. Curiously, he cringed away from her.

“Laenor, it is good to be home. We have much to discuss,” When he spoke his eyes were on Laena and Joffrey again. “However, first I must bring my dear Gooddaughter dire news. Your uncle has been injured in the fighting. I have brought him back here to heal and rest. I would beg your pardon and ask for your support in asking your Lord Father to lift his banishment in this case.”

Oh you smooth bastard. There is no way in hell Viserys would let Daemon ‘heal up’ on those rocks without a skilled Maester with every chance of being killed or dying of infection and I can not object without the optics being terrible. So despite wanting to scratch his face off, I smiled sweetly at him.

“Of course you have my support in this, Lord Corlys.” Said through gritted teeth but said all the same. “I will write to my Father with this news.”

“I thank you for your mercy, niece, it is good to see you once more. You and Ser Laenor make quite the beautiful couple,” Corlys frowned at that and Daemon seemed to remember himself. I flexed my angry fingers.

“Laena… you left so quickly I feared something was wrong,” he said, catching her hand lowering his lips to it. I wanted to stab him with his own stupid sword as she blushed. “And now I find you a married woman it seems.”

“It is… yes. I am sorry you could not be there.” Laena stop flirting with him in front of everyone! Daemon turned a nasty smile to Joffrey, who merely nodded. I mentally went over the downside of stabbing him and running away to Yi-ti with Laenor. Corlys embraced his daughter stiffly, both looking as if they’d rather be hugging an old, unrefrigerated fish.

The rest of the Velaryon’s made their welcomes with bows and curtsies. Most were polite, some genuinely warm but both his brother’s children greeted him with such an icy politeness that he seemed startled by it. Vaemond and Malentine had not held back on telling their families about the bastards and whilst most in the extended family did not believe it… well, it mattered not now. Addam, Alyn and Marilda were safely on Dragonstone and far away from any reprisals.

Although I could tell Corlys wanted to head inside to find out just what his son had done, we were forced to observe the niceties. A small meal to celebrate the Seasnake’s return. That was awkward but navigated well if extremely carefully with neither side willing to address the elephant in the room. Or rather, the ex-Lonmouth in the room.

Even Daemon managed to behave himself for a few hours. His familiar suave manner well in place. Compliments and jests delivered with impeccable timing, a facial expression of outward calm that never bordered on apathy and always ready with a bawdy tale or two. In fact the only time he broke the illusion was to fire acidic and borderline insulting comments at Laenor and Joffrey. 

Oh but I could see the strain. How his eyes flickered to Laena just a little too much. How his expression tightened every time she turned to address Joffrey… It would also seem he was actually injured, taking a knife during a brawl. Daemon had survived years on that island without any major injuries and yet losing Laena threw him off enough that he let some random pirate through his guard.

Huh.

I could tell Corlys was very much on edge when Laenor, Laena, Joffrey, Rhaenys and I finally made it to his Solar. He’d sent Daemon away with a whispered and, in some cases hissed, conversation. My Uncle had not taken it well but in the end he’d bowed to Corlys’ demands, clearly Driftmark is an isle of wonders if even my Uncle bows to good sense occasionally.

He seated himself behind his giant desk and watched us all before slamming a fist into it. Unfortunately for him, his family seemed completely unfazed. Rhaenys and her children looked mutinous. Joffrey had defaulted to his solemn ‘I’m talking to royalty’ demeanour in which he stared at a bit of wall three inches left of your face and I… had flinched. Gods damn it! 

Laenor took my hand.

“What happened?” he asked, obviously struggling not to bellow. “I told you to remain on the Stepstones whilst I sorted things out with Daemon. Instead you hare off and marry your brother’s lover?”

At that revelation, he watched Laenor with a triumphant gleam in his eye. So Corlys had known but Rhaenys had not. He looked very disappointed when no one reacted in shock and horror and instead what he got was his wife cracking him about the face.

“You knew!?”

“Of course I knew! I never told you to spare you the shame but I knew,” he replied after a moment of silence, rubbing his face. His eyes fell on Laenor. “I trust you told her to get her onboard with this disgusting plan to marry your sister to him?”

“Laena told her,” Laenor said with calm he clearly wasn’t feeling as his hand tightened in mine.

“You do not have the right to anger here, Lord Corlys, you threw your daughter to my uncle with the intention of this happening,” I said, coolly. I was determined I wasn’t going to be the first to explode, not when the Velaryons had more right to anger.

“She was there to tempt him! She chose to leap into bed with him!” he rose to his feet and glared at us. “Then I find out you’re pregnant, that you shamed yourself and then you shame yourself further by keeping the babe!”

“Daemon told me you would ensure we married!” Laena shot back, only her mother’s hand keeping her from marching over to her Father in rage. It seemed her anger at me and her brother might have been transferred from the way she was almost struggling against Rhaenys.

“You were supposed to be an incentive, a reminder of what he could have! He’d given up on escaping the Royce woman, I needed to secure the Stepstones for our future and instead you have married a second son from the Stormlands! I would have made you Queen had you restrained yourself for a few months!”

“A queen, Father. You married Laenor to THE Queen!” she shouted right back.

I tried not to feel guilty at her anger. I had decided for her that she wouldn’t marry Daemon even though she’d clearly wanted to. How did that make me any better than Corlys? Then my anger crept back because she did want to marry him and how dare she!? I wanted to laugh at how twisted up inside this whole business had me.

“Your mother should have been THE Queen! You should have been the Queen and your brother your King! I was trying to give you a match worthy of you,” he sat down heavily and brought his hands up to his face, fight draining from his body. “And now even if you had not married Joffrey you would have nothing. Not with that bastard growing in your belly.”

“Not true,” Laenor said as Laena recoiled from her Father. Corlys looked up at him and then looked at me when Laenor nodded in my direction.

“You would grant them lands then?” he asked me.

“I will, when I have them to grant. In the meantime I intend to name Laena as one of my ladies,” I confirmed. “Of course, this is provided you do not do anything to harm Laenor and I’s children.”

Corlys ran his hands over his face and sighed heavily. Then he laughed, an ugly sound full of despair, and leaned back in his chair to face me. In that moment, I was startled to find he truly looked his sixty plus years. He looked… defeated.

“And there is the sting in the scorpions tail. You would have Laenor give Driftmark to your bastards and hold my own daughter’s future hostage,” he bit out. Laenor snorted in frustration. “Do you accept this, my love? Our son will not bed her. As like as not she’ll take some man as her lover and pass off his son’s as legitimate.”

“Rhaenyra and Laenor have some way of ensuring trueborn children,” Rhaenys growled. “At least my son would inherit this way. You would have my son robbed of his inheritance!”

“We found Addam and Alyn, Father.” Laenor elaborated, at his look of confusion. 

“You… you have not…?” Corlys face was white with sudden fear, glancing between his wife and son. Rhaenys’ face had gone stony, eyes promising retribution for the unfaithfulness.

“I am no kinslayer. They are safe.” Corlys’ shoulders slumped at the news.

“I could not let… some faceless knight’s children have Driftmark. Not ahead of my own blood. I’d always thought I could marry Laena’s children to make sure... Addam and Alyn… they were never meant to be anything other than a last resort.” He stood up and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “I have only ever wanted the best for you two. Wanted to see you take your rightful places as rulers. Be it of Braavos, Westeros or the Stepstones. You should have worn crowns… I failed your mother, I did not wish to fail you too.”

See, now I just felt like a complete idiot.


	34. Dishonour - Chapter 31

For three days we remained on Driftmark with nothing giving in, no outward change. Daemon did his best to play the suave suitor, eager to offer dragon flights and bad poetry from Lys that never the less had her blushing. He worked to catch her alone, weaved pretty tales of the idea of destined souls and running away together. He was very very in love with the idea that he was the only man Laena had ever loved and would ever love.

He always had a high opinion of himself.

Everyone else worked to pry her from his influence. Every slip of anger on his part became our ammunition and every genuine, sweet thought he had was a strike at our assertion he was a monster.She was caught between her family and the man she loved and nobody had any idea where she would jump. So we all settled into the playing tug-of-war with the rider of the world’s largest dragon. I’d never wanted to scream at someone more and been completely unable too.

Still as long as I kept my cool, Joffrey assured me, we would eventually win. Daemon was not a man given to long, thought out planning. Eventually, he’d mess up and all that was left was to capitalise on that.

Provided we played our own parts exactly as he asked.

At least Rhaenys and I were allies once more. It almost felt like old times, racing through the air around Driftmark and bitching about Daemon. Well this time with the added spice of bitching about Laena too. And occasionally Laenor. She was a lot less blind when it came to her children’s faults after being so rudely awoken to them.

It was Viserys who broke the status quo in the form of a letter informing me that he was coming to visit, having felt guilty that he’d missed my nameday feast. It probably had more to do with my letter and Daemon’s return but it was still the first time I’d ever been genuinely happy to see a letter with the King’s seal on it. I’d promptly convinced Corlys it was imperative I bring Laena with me to Dragonstone.

Although it still took her mother threatening violence to get her to go.

Thankfully, my bureaucracy worked in my favour again. They were quick to get everything in the castle up to royal standard. Granted, that was not that hard these days since half of Blacks had moved in. Still, it meant a feast at the very minimum and I couldn’t get away with just the normal three course style. I relished demonstrating it to Laenor, recalling the horrific days when I’d been forced to plan Laena’s wedding.

Viserys arrived soon after, half his court in attendance on him, with Alicent and my brothers trailing behind. Robert’s arrival at Winterfell this was not, despite the crowds that turned out to see their king. Although Viserys was certainly giving Robert a run for his money when it came to his girth. It was sort of depressing really, like the trim and man from my youth had died with his Father.

I felt Helaena’s body language change when she spotted her mother and brothers. I was amused to see she was almost quivering with excitement. I placed a hand on her shoulder, hopefully she knew not to dart out at them before ceremony had been observed but she was young and unused to being away from her Mother. For all that she was mature for her age, she was still only six. We bowed low as Viserys and Alicent approached and I was glad that my ladies had taken to tutoring her in etiquette as her bow was much improved.

The Queen was not looking at me at all, her eyes were on her only daughter as if searching for unreported injuries or some kind of harm. Aegon and Aemond were acting like two children who’d just been on a reasonably long journey and were then having to stay still and be polite. That is to say, they weren’t behaving all that well. It was Daeron that made my eyes nearly pop out my head. He wasn’t a pink bean anymore! He was still being held by a nursemaid but he looked to be doing a good job at squirming free. Could a one year old even walk?

Oh well, maybe I could get some bonding time in with him. He might not remember later down the line but it was never to late to start trying to PR your way past the whole ‘Mother knows best’ thing Alicent had going on.

“Welcome to Dragonstone, Your Graces, the castle is yours,” I said, as we stood. Viserys studied me, face solemn in a way I couldn’t quite figure out. I borrowed Joffrey’s tactic of staring just past the royal earlobe and adopted a blank face in defence. Then a large smile broke out over his features and pulled me into a hug that drove the air from my lungs

He did the same for Laenor, leaving him staggering, and then scooped up Helaena, swinging her around as she laughed in delight. In the corner of my eye, Alicent’s face softened a little now that she could see Helaena seemed well.

“My Queen.” I bowed slightly as she approached. Fun fact: I had to bow to her if Viserys was around. Something she liked to take advantage of. That being said if dear old Dad was nowhere to be seen, she had to bow to me. Funnily enough, we didn’t speak much on days Viserys wasn’t by her side.

“Princess,” she murmured in acknowledgement as Laenor and the rest bowed in greeting. “You have my thanks for watching over my daughter so diligently.”

“Helaena is a sweet girl,” I told her, maintaining my best civil tone. “My brothers look well. Daeron has grown so much.”

Alicent turned to regard them just as Aemond thumped Aegon in the back of the head. I covered my laugh up with a cough. The two boys glanced up and caught our gaze. Aemond flushed in embarrassment but his brother paled as our eyes met.

Poor kid.

“They are well. Daeron is every inch the rambunctious child his brothers were,” Alicent told me as she turned back, favouring me with a gracious smile and putting extra stress on the word brothers. I had to hand it to her, this woman was a top notch actress. Viserys joined our little smiling competition a moment later, handing the still giggling Helaena to her Mother. Alicent held her close, which got a more genuine smile out of me.

She did love her children. That was her biggest strength and biggest weakness.

“I was hoping you could show your old man the changes you’ve made to the place!” he boomed. “Every Heir makes their own changes, I’m eager to see yours!”

“I would be glad to, Father,” I replied. There was no easy way out of playing tour guide to the King. He beamed and then gestured Aegon over. Realising his Father’s intention, Aegon’s gait was a little wobbly and he went from pale to white. I really, really want to know what Alicent told the kid. And then I really, really want to slap Alicent.

Still, my love for bureaucracy smoothed over any awkwardness I might have felt.

When I’d come to Dragonstone the castle had been neglected in the extreme. Aemon, Baelon and even Viserys had bound themselves to the capital and Dragonstone had suffered for it. There was no real, clear centralised administration. The Castellan looked after the castle proper, the Steward was in charge of finances, there was a Reeve appointed to look after the castle town and deal with the villages elsewhere on Dragonstone, a Bailiff to collect taxes and dues, a Marshal to overlook it’s defences and a Master-at-Arms who oversaw the guard and their training.

Each masters of their own spheres of overlapping influence, each fighting for power over the island, each fighting for command of lesser posts and each a seemingly endless font of frustration, idiocy and inefficiency.

Take the charcoal incident. When my experiments had first started, I’d needed charcoal. I’d had to speak to the Castellan to discover we had none and subsequently order it. Then I had to speak to the Steward to release funds. Then I had to speak with the Bailiff to find out why he hadn’t handed over that months gold. Then I’d had to organise a guard for the transport because the Bailiff and Master-of-Arms had been having a fight over patrols. Patrols the Marshal was responsible for but had bunked off to go drinking, letting petty crime and tavern brawls get out of hand. Then I’d had to hire men from the town through the Reeve because the Castellan didn’t have men to spare and in fact was unsure how many men he even employed because no one wanted to tell him the truth.

You get the idea.

So I’d been forced to switch things up, if only to make life, and my experiments, easier. The Castellan, I explained to Viserys, was now the ultimate power on Dragonstone unless I said otherwise. He oversaw the rest, who’d each had their duties significantly trimmed. The Bailiff now served under the Steward, the Master-of-Arms had been merged with the Marshal and the Reeve now served as my representative outside the castle rather than a power in his own right.

Other, lesser, roles had been assigned under the area they made most sense too. Chamberlain under Castellan, Harbourmaster under Reeve and so on.

Then as punishment for their past idiocy I introduced them to the idea of reports and paperwork. Not that I mentioned it was a punishment to Viserys. No, making them sign forms in triplicate and unleashing archiving on them was all about accountability. So I could double check they weren’t stealing from me or using their positions to abuse their power. Watching them grimace and get wrist cramps was just a bonus.

Honest. I would never be so petty.

I’d set up a pseudo-HR department for maximum nastiness and promptly discovered staffing was terrifying. Did you know that until I’d arrived the Dragonstone kitchens hired anyone who turned up with a ladle? No references, just show up early enough with the rest of a pool of transient, unskilled workers and you’re in? And this same pool of potential staff members fed every other area of menial work? Because I didn’t!

How poison hasn’t played a bigger role in Westerosi politics I will never know.

Regardless, my HR department kept track of references, training, who was in charge of who and when to cut certain grab-happy grooms loose for chasing the kitchen maids a little too intently. Everyone gets paid on time, everyone knows what they’re doing, everyone is probably not an assassin waiting to poison me and with the basic hygiene training for everyone involved in any kind of cleaning or cooking meant they probably wouldn’t accidentally poison me either.

“I’m impressed! I’d never looked into things this deeply before!” Viserys said as I finished my explanation. He had a look on his face that said someone in the capital might be learning the joys of Human Resources very soon. Aegon, clearly, had not been so thrilled by my long lecture of command structure, administration and recruitment because he looked ready to fall asleep on his feet.

Then again he was eight, so what did you expect?

“And you can just throw a feast out of nowhere instead of racing around doing it half by hand now?” he asked, stroking his stupid, stupid moustache.

Who told him that looked good? Was it Alicent? I bet it was Alicent.

“And ensure most complaints are heard without me having to hear them directly,” I replied and he brightened up considerably at that. Since it’s probably Lyonel that’s going to get this dropped on his desk, I should probably draw up a letter of apology now.

“Well isn’t that a thing! Hear that, Aegon? Your sister has the right of it! Less complaints and more feasts, I say!” Aegon jerked out of his half-doze and nodded along frantically as if a proper complaints procedure were his hearts most fervent desire. Viserys patted him on the back.

“I have half a mind to give Aegon to that husband of yours. I know he has the Rosby lad but a page won’t hurt and it gets Aegon out of the court where they’ll stop feeding him so much tripe!”

Aegon froze. Any boredom he had was gone now. Slowly, he turned a trembling head towards me as if I were some kind of t-rex and any speedy movement would cause me to notice his presence and eat him. My own smile became rather strained too. Having Aegon alongside Helaena would be a coup for me, yes, but the boy really was terrified of me. It seemed cruel.

Also Alicent would probably bathe me in wildfire.

“I doubt Alicent would like that. Besides he is doing so well with Criston.” Viserys snorted in derision when I mentioned his Lord Commander.

“He could do with getting out of his Mother’s skirts,” he groused.

“Father, he is eight. Allow him as much time as possible with his Mother, one can never predict if something will happen after all.” Viserys’ face softened at that.

“Well, you may have a point there,” he admitted, likely remembering I was not much younger the Aegon when Aemma had died. Aegon was glancing between us with a small ray of hope blossoming on his face. Viserys dropped a hand to his shoulder and shoved him forward towards me.

“Well, at least take the boy until the feast tonight. You barely have time together as it is, siblings should be closer!”

And then he was off. Seriously, whatever he smoked I wanted. Maybe it was the Hippocras?


	35. Dishonour - Chapter 32

“How is the capital?” I asked, as Viserys disappeared round the corner.

“Good,” Aegon squeaked back.

“How’s Aemond and Daeron?”

“Good.”

“Otto?”

“Good.”

“Criston?”

“Good.”

“Oh for Seven’s sake!” I cried and the boy flinched. I swallowed my annoyance heavily, stamped out the frustration with him and reminded myself he was just a child.

“You know I will not eat you, Aegon. I am fond of you all, I am your big sister,” when he said nothing I sighed again. “At least believe that no man or woman is more accursed than a kinslayer. I would not harm you because the Gods themselves will not allow it.”

Shockingly, theology was not reassuring to an eight year old so I stashed him in my solar with paper and permission to draw whatever he felt like and an order to tell Viserys he’d spent a splendid afternoon with me. He’d agreed readily and left me to my reports although I wasn’t foolish enough to not keep an eye on him between the carefully doctored tales my employees like to tell me of their rivals incompetence. He seemed to be trying to draw a knight of some description… a knight fighting something?

Oh very funny you little shit.

It was a knight fighting a dragon that I was fairly certain was supposed to be me.

Actually, he wasn’t half bad at art. Even if he did gouge the veneer off of the desk that had been in this solar since before Aegon the Conqueror’s time. After I’d finished signing off on a couple of reports I praised his excellent shading, critiqued his subject matter and sent him packing with orders for him to be cleaned before the feast. I pinned the drawing to the wall. It would do wonders to remind me that for all the trouble he caused me, it was indirect and he was a child at Alicent’s mercy.

I decided to do something new for the feast tonight. Instead of my normal Vale style I went for something in a Reach cut. Bare shoulders, rich fabrics… Hopefully it wouldn’t be seen as a slight against Alicent but I had to admit the Reach style did sexy very well and I wanted to feel good tonight.

“No, Lady Laena! Lace it this way,” A tug brought me back to reality and I sighed. I’d named Laena a lady and all I could say is that I was glad Maris had not yet arrived back from the Vale yet because the Grafton would have crucified the poor girl. Not she wasn’t making it completely obvious to anyone she’d rather not be here, so maybe her and Maris could get along splendidly.

Shared circumstances and all that.

Marya was trying her hardest to make up for her but… well. Another clumsy yank illustrated my point nicely and I heard Falena sigh in something dangerously close to despair. Ahead of me the twins were already dressed for the feast, having been excused their duties tonight. Technically speaking, so had Falena but she’d dived in anyway.

Falena was not one to sit back and complain about something if she could dive and get her hands dirty. Metaphorically speaking of course, I do pride myself on cleanliness above and beyond that expected by most Westerosi, which is by itself surprisingly clean. Somehow, we were all ready in time for the feast. Even if Laena looked incredibly uncomfortable in her gown of Velaryon teal and silver.

The feast went well enough. The Greens that had managed to sneak aboard with Viserys’ party were making themselves inconspicuous and my usual assortment of nobles were to busy sucking up to the King to be bothering me. 

It seemed Viserys had not forgotten about his hate boner for the Greens because there were so little present that one would assume Alicent hadn’t even tried to bring back up. Any Green who I could easily identify seemed very keen on avoiding the King’s gaze as if they were expecting him to stroke out at the mere sight of them.

Alicent herself barely made any acidic comments. She asked about Helaena’s education, she managed a few about pregnancy after asking after news of that but… that was tame. Completely and utterly tame.

Had Viserys put his foot down or something?

It was well into the dancing when the man who called himself my Father laid a hand on my shoulder and bent down to request my presence in the Solar. He was outright swaying as we made our way up. Ser Fell had to place a hand on his back several times to prevent him from toppling over.

When we finally got there, Viserys ordered yet more wine and told Ser Fell to remain outside on guard. He strode inside as if he were still Lord of Dragonstone and sat his growing bulk into the chair behind the desk. He waited until we were served and he had a full goblet in his hand to start talking.

“Well done with the Velaryon business. You saved me from an awkward position there.” Oh no, is he trying to have a friendly and fatherly conversation with me? Where has this come from?

“Well, Laena is a friend,” I said, well she probably wasn’t now but I couldn’t exactly point out it was her dragon I wanted. I downed my own wine and grabbed some more. If he was going to try and be friendly, I needed to be drunk.

“Yes. She seems a fine girl. Nearly married her,” he told me, voice slurring. Ugh, I’d forgotten about that. Various members of the court after my mother died had been agitating for Viserys to marry Laena to unite the two competing claims for the throne. Honestly, I prefer Alicent. If Viserys had named me heir with Rhaenys about, Meleys would have eaten me years ago. “You seem quite taken with Ser Laenor?” 

“He is a good man. I enjoy his company.” Please let this end soon. Please let him get bored. I’d even take a screaming match over whatever this is. Did he read a parenting guide and decide to connect with the youth or something? I mean, he has never done anything like this before.

Not even when I was made his cupbearer and I spent my days trailing after him making a ‘How not to be ruler’ guide based on his actions.

“But you and he are fond of each other?” There was almost a desperate note in his voice and I forced myself to mentally check in to the conversation again to properly study him. 

“Are you asking if we love one another?” I asked carefully. He poured more wine.

“Maybe not love… something more than just tolerating one another?” That… is not something a Westerosi would normally ask? Or even care about? 

“We are friends. He is a good and kind man,” I reassured him and he nodded and took a few more gulps from the goblet. “Is something wrong?”

“No. No, nothing is wrong. Not with me.”

We sat in silence for a few more minutes as he finished off the pitcher. I wasn’t sure what to say. I was so sure that seeing him again after my flight from King’s Landing would fill me with rage and it did but also… a lot of confusion.

“We did not part on the best of terms.” That startled a disbelieving laugh from me before I clamped down on it. The look he gave me was tired rather than angry. “I deserve that.”

And there goes the confusion! I took a few deep breaths. Last time I’d fucked a salvageable situation by flipping out and trying to hurt him as much as he was hurting me. Joffrey had made it clear I had to stop doing that. That I had to get serious and I couldn’t indulge in childish tantrums over hurt feelings anymore. 

It was still so hard.

“It was still rude of me. I apologise,” I said. He chuckled in response and then called for another pitcher of wine that was delivered so fast they might have been waiting outside with it. I’d made it clear this visit needed to be perfect and it appeared my staff had delivered.

“Your letter said Daemon was back. How badly is he injured?” His tone was odd and hard to parse. Genuine worry, frustration and something else I couldn’t place.

“He will be well enough in a few weeks. Then he can return to the Stepstones.” Viserys stared at me uncomprehendingly. I elaborated slowly, like I was talking to a child. “Because he is technically breaking his banishment. The one you gave him for breaking my fingers and drawing steel on me.”

“I remember what I banished him for. I’ll leave it up to you to decide when he’s well enough to leave. It seems appropriate,” he replied dryly. I took a sip of wine to cover up my surprise. Viserys was normally very forgiving when it came to Daemon. “Don’t give me that look. I’ve not been the best brother to Daemon but he went too far when he hurt you. I should have listened to you but I convinced myself it was just another Black and Green battleground.”

“We were both agreeing that he was out of line,” I pointed out sourly. Viserys didn’t seem to notice my tone as he nodded. More awkward silence, more Viserys drinking wine like it was going out of fashion.

“That business in the Vale. I meant what I said in my letter. It was well done. Aemma would have been proud of you.” I swallowed thickly at that. He was playing dirty by bringing her into it. “She used to dote on Jeyne, tried to have me bring the girl to King’s Landing. Her Regent refused.”

“Yorbert sounds like something of a cunt,” I muttered without meaning to. Viserys roared with sudden laughter that made me jump.

“Hah! You never met the man but you’d be right,” he chuckled, tossing back more wine. How was he not passed out right now? Surely his bulk couldn’t soak up that much.

“Do you know why I married your mother?” he asked suddenly. I shook my head, bemused by the sudden change in topic. “It was right after Uncle Aemon’s death.”

“Ah. This is about Rhaenys.” He nodded, closing his eyes.

“It killed Father to see her turn on him like that. Disappeared off to Driftmark with Jocelyn and the new babe and refused to see him.”

“From her point of view, he turned on her first,” I pointed out. I’d never actually asked Rhaenys about what had happened. It seemed too much like rubbing salt in the wounds.

“I suppose you could look at it that way. It still hurt him. He didn’t want to be heir before her. Jaehaerys made him. Said even if she weren’t a woman, a tried and tested warrior was better than a stripling youth of seventeen. You reminded me of him when Aegon was born.”

“Did I?” I asked. Viserys snorted. I had made cautious mention of maybe changing his heir, as much as it truly pained me to do so. Viserys had turned me down cold.

“I married your Mother because Father needed the support. The Stormlands were acting up. Rhaenys had Corlys, his fleet and his blood. Jaehaerys wanted to make sure my heirs would have dragon blood on both sides and a Lord Paramount to back their claims. We didn’t much like each other in the beginning.”

“She was eleven.” And that still creeps me out!

“Yes, she was. Eleven and quiet as doormouse. Did her duty though. Daemon mocked me for days.” Was that bitterness when you said Daemon’s name? I think it was! “I should have been a second son. I could have lived with being a second son. Daemon would have been a worthy first. The only reason I claimed Balerion is because he mocked my lack of dragon. As if he were the expert? He took Uncle Aemon’s Caraxes the year before you see and you know when Rhaenys took Meleys. He found it quite funny I lacked a dragon.”

That did sound like Uncle Daemon. Arrogant, cruel and convinced he was the Warrior Reborn. 

“Then Aemma had Aemon and I could look my brother in the eyes and feel worthy of being born first.”

“Aemon?” Viserys blinked at me, looking decidedly more drunk now than he had a few minutes ago. I could make a guess as to his identity but…

“Your brother. Older brother. Did Aemma truly never make a mention of him?” I knew I had an older brother who’d died in the cradle but I’d never heard his name. Mentions of him caused Mother’s face to crease in pain, Prince Baelon to look sad and make a small prayer to the Seven and Viserys… well, I’d never heard him mentioned to Viserys. I’d certainly never gotten a name. “Well, we named him after Uncle Aemon. Lived for all of six moons. Balerion died soon after.”

Ouch. Losing your firstborn son and your dragon in the same time frame. Ouch. Wait, help, I’m feeling sympathy for Viserys of all people.

“Forgive me Father, I do not se-” 

“Laena reminded me of her,” he said, cutting me off and meeting my eyes. “Of your mother. A small child being asked to marry a man much older than her. I remember sitting on that throne and realising I couldn’t do it. Rhaenys brought her in all dressed up and paraded her in front of everyone. She looked up at me and I.. I couldn’t.”

“I remember that.” I wasn’t lying. I do remember. It had been only a few months after Viserys had made me his cupbearer. Laena had been terrified, that much was obvious. Rhaenys had tried to pass it off as nerves. Laena had been twelve and small. Viserys had been twenty eight and already fat. I could understand her terror.

“I was King. So I married someone I loved and I sent her back to Driftmark. And like a coward I sold you to the Velaryons to do my duty!” He stood suddenly and swayed on unsteady feet. His violet eyes peered down at me and I realised he was close to crying. He drew me to my feet and pulled me into his arms before taking a great shuddering breath. I found his hug to be very… tight. My ribs protested and I struggled to stay steady as he swayed back and forth, his strength forcing me to follow him.

“I hurt you. You do not know how sorry I am. Come back to court with me. Bring Ser Laenor, hell bring your entire court but come back. I should not have sent you away. I know that now.” He let me loose from the bone-crushing pressure and clapped me on the shoulders. He was a messy crier, I noted idly, despite my surprise. His face was a blotchy red and tears had drenched his now almost invisible moustache. He moved his hands to cradle my face. “Come home. Come help me rule.”

Well, that’s one way of getting un-banished?


	36. Dishonour - Chapter 33

I felt ill after Viserys’ little pity party in my solar but I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to be free from Dragonstone so I agreed. His joy made my stomach turn and his hug nearly broke my ribs. He eventually fell asleep on the couch in the Solar which was probably for the best, the last thing I needed was for him to break his neck falling down the stairs and kick off the Dance early. I left him with Ser Fell and went to find Laenor.

Who was very much unavailable! Very, very unavailable. As was Joffrey. 

At least they’d made up. Silver linings and all that.

I ordered a pitcher before taking refuge in my rooms, and following Viserys’ earlier example of solving his problems with alcohol, tried to banish the lonely ache that had sprung up in my gut at the sight of the two men. I’d polished off half of it before Laena arrived. Not for the first time I was forced to wonder if one of the two had somehow borrowed Tyrion’s time travelling powers and they’d started off as twins. Either that or Rhaenys had figured out how to clone people.

“You left the feast,” she pointed out as she sat down and stole my goblet, finishing it herself. “And you left me alone with the twins,”

“The King demanded my attention,” I told her. She refilled the goblet and snorted before taking a long drink.

“Yes, and the twins wanted mine. They poured honey in my wine because I was being to ‘sour’. What did Viserys want anyway?” she asked with the same kind of derision I reserved for mentions of the man who’d sired me.

“We spoke about you.” That got her to put the goblet down. I stole it back as she raised an eyebrow.

“Me?” A hand fell to her stomach and I shook my head. “You did not-”

“About how you nearly became his wife,” I told her. She gave me a horrified, incredulous look and then shuddered dramatically. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. We may disagree on my Uncle but at least we agreed on the matter of Viserys. “I was thinking how it was a good thing you didn’t marry him,”

“Really? I’d hardly make as much trouble as Alicent. We would have been close,” she said, almost wistfully. My smile flickered at the reminder of the friendship that’d been destroyed by Daemon, did she miss it too? Okay, play it cool, we’re seducing her from Daemon. A moment of genuine bonding is definitely a good thing.

“I was more thinking that if he’d made me heir over your children Rhaenys would have fed me to Meleys.” That startled a laugh out of her and she took the cup back as I finished it. We traded stories back and forth for a while, her of her travels and mine of old court scandals. Laena was easy to talk to when she wasn’t being a brat and I was forced to admit I missed this closeness between us. I was half way through telling a particularly amusing story regarding Laenor during our bedding ceremony when she interrupted me, cheeks flushed red with wine.

“I… Rhaenyra…” I peered at her through the alcohol induced haze. She seemed to be very much struggling with her next sentence. “I do not like men much. I was happy when your Father refused the marriage. Daemon is the first man I’ve ever… What I’m trying to say is… When we first…”

Oh gods, please don’t give me an in-depth history on yourself and Daemon. I was way too drunk for this. I moved to the window and stuck my head out into the breeze for a while, letting the sea air cool my wine heated cheeks. Her hand touched my back a moment later.

“Sorry. I know it pains you to speak of him. Come, enjoy some more wine with me.” So I did.

I awoke still in my dress with Laena playing the big spoon, her arm flung over my stomach and her gentle snores the only noise in my chambers. It…did not say good things about my psyche that I laid there for a long time just enjoying the feel of someone else pressed close to me. Even when Laenor slept in my rooms he was stingy with physical affection. When the temptation to curl closer to her got too much I carefully extracted myself from the bed and snuck out, leaving her to rest. She looked like she needed it.

After the usual trials and tribulations of waking up with a hangover were done with and I had bathed and doubled checked all of my ladies were safe and not in the stables lost to drunken stupors -Thank you for that awkward morning, Alys-, I took up refuge in my offices to lay in to yet more of my back log and catch up with my daily correspondence. Normally at this time I’d be out on the range with Helaena, or more accurately, wrangling Helaena into her lessons with Gerardys instead of spending all day with her bow. Since Alicent was here, she could deal with the constant danger of getting shot by a stubborn six-year old.

Speaking of which, I would probably have to check what Viserys intended for Helaena when we returned to King’s Landing. Alicent would probably want to retake custody of her daughter after close to six months of having her away. I wrote up a reminder to ask him before we set off.

A letter from Jeyne, advising that the Falcons were recruiting at a much greater rate than Lord Denys had anticipated, was a nice start to my day. We were still far off any kind of solid solution to the hill clans but every bit of land we retook was a bit of land Jeyne could use to strengthen the Vale and soon, when they could reliably defend a wider area, we could begin getting a return on those Velaryon investments. I always felt a little guilty using Laenor’s gold to bankroll my projects but… well, Dragonstone may make more these days but it didn’t make nearly enough.

Still the good news in the Vale meant it was time to broach an awkward topic with my beloved cousin.

It was with some trepidation that I put the quill to paper. I’d been putting off the discussion but I could no longer, especially not now I could move about Westeros freely once more. I was going to have to try and get her to marry and produce at least one child. The succession of the Vale had been a shit show in the canon time line and I did not want to take the risk of it exploding in my face at an annoying and inconvenient time. Plus, and I was happy I still felt guilty at this, the marriage of the Lady of the Vale would potentially secure another ally to my side.

She was my blood, after all.

An invitation to attend the wedding of Forrest Frey and Sabitha Vypren. Interesting but not feasible. Forrest wasn’t a bad sort for all that he was insanely optimistic and for some reason the name Sabitha Vypren was tickling at me, familiar. I sent word to prepare an acceptable gift and to send my apologies and congratulations.

The most interesting letter proved to be from Wisdom Jerrett who was very excited about something they’d managed to discover from ongoing research efforts that, in his own words, ‘was completely unmentioned by the Book’. I admit that somewhat baffled me and I had suppress the urge to bolt over and demand what it was.

Instead I calmly penned a response that I would be arriving for a visit to the campus tomorrow to investigate this new discovery and to hear an update on their research. Then because I had not forgotten, I penned a reminder to Joffrey to set up a meeting so I could brief him on my knowledge of the canon Dance of Dragons and to inform him my unofficial banishment was at an end.

Late morning gave way to early afternoon and I received a short reply from Joffrey told me he was very eager to learn the truth because he’d suggested we meet as soon as possible as King’s Landing could be dangerous to explore this information in and a confirmation that Wisdom Jerrett would be happy to give us a tour.

As it was, Viserys only planned to stay for a few more days. A fact he announced half way through dinner that day alongside his invitation for me to rejoin him at court ‘where I belonged’.

That got some mixed reactions to say the least. Alicent managed to keep an extremely strained smile in place by, what I suspect, was sheer ingrained court habit. Aegon looked the weirdest cross between physically ill and cautiously excited, Helaena looked absolutely thrilled and Aemond was glaring at his plate and then his Father in rapid succession. The few Greens were doing their best to seem happy that the King was inviting his beloved daughter back to the capital whilst my court and Black lords actually let out a few cheers.

The next fright I had was Laenor bursting into my rooms at first light the next day and all but bouncing on my bed like a child on Christmas morning before bothering me about the tour we were going on. I was not a morning person. I may have said something quite rude in response. He dragged me out anyway and forced a cup of juice into my hand.

“Do you think you might know what it is?” he asked before taking a sip from his own cup. The maids he’d brought with him laid out some fruit for us before bowing and leaving us alone.

“I have no clue. I don’t even know who is supposed to have discovered this brand new thing,” I replied and stole his slices of pear in recompense for the early morning wake up call. He pouted before giving me a sly smirk.

“I heard my sister spent the night in your rooms.” I’m pretty sure that pear is in my lung now. He was almost cackling when I finally managed to recover from my coughing and spluttering.

“Please tell me that isn’t a new rumour!” I begged before gulping some juice down. He began laughing even harder but shook his head through his mirth. I sighed in relief. The last thing I needed was accusations of infidelity with both Joffrey AND his wife. That’d be just Alicent’s style, paint me as someone so depraved I couldn’t even stick to one gender of lovers... and the fact she would be on the right path is galling as well. A pit of nerves opened up in my stomach as his laughter died into chuckles.

“Well I wouldn’t have to monopolise your sister if someone weren’t completely allergic to physical intimacy.” I bit out and then realised what I said as his eyes went wide. “Wait! No! I meant cuddling! Not the other thing!”

“Well… you never said? Did you want me too?” he asked. Dear Seven, kill me now. I think my face had gone neon by the time he leant forward and patted me reassuringly on the hand.

“Don’t worry. Laena only told Joffrey because she woke up with one of your bracelets pressed into her side and ended up with a wicked looking bruise.” Oh. I see. I wondered where that went. 

“Please don’t tell me Joff-” I started but Laenor’s giggling interrupted me again.

“I hate you sometimes,” I mumbled which sent Laenor off laughing again. 

“But he did say good work! Laena is very much close to seeing sense,” he told me in a low tone. I blinked in surprise at that. I hadn’t thought it had been all that helpful but if Joffrey said otherwise…

The twins arrived sometime later to help me dress and I dispatched Laenor and his exhausting enthusiasm to get Joffrey and Laena. The former because I was going to tell him the future on the way back and the latter because I wanted to try and impress her with ‘The Book’.

We took the horses there. Laenor kept up an endless chatter the entire way, waxing lyrical about all the different ways ‘The Book’ would help Westeros advance and how they would help secure our houses for generations. Joffrey was politely interested. He already knew, of course, and had likely already put much more thought into what the technology I had revealed could do for our cause. Still, I didn’t miss the soft smile on his face as he watched Laenor come alive in a way only High Tide or Spicetown could get him. 

Laena was much less respectful of ‘The Book’.

“I don’t see why we need this to secure our future. We have dragons!” she exclaimed as we rode through the front gates to the set of converted warehouses that now formed High Wisdom Jerrett’s domain.

“Jaehaerys understood we need more than that. We conquered the Andals, no offence Joffrey, and that the only reason we’ve lasted so long is the dragons. We need other avenues of loyalty beyond ‘obey me or be eaten’ as Maegor found out.”

She still looked troubled as Jerrett presented himself to us with a respectful bow, eyes bright with excitement. I introduced Joffrey and Laena to him and he managed to contain himself to make a good introduction, even though I’d bet the treasury of Dragonstone Joffrey already knew who he was on sight.

Eventually were were shown into a room with a wooden bowl containing purple crystals. A very nervous looking apprentice Harald stood by, eyes flicking between the bowl and us. I examined it, something niggling at the back of my mind.

“Harald here was assigned to the experimental seaweed extraction process and fouled the damn thing up!” Suddenly, the reason Harald looked so nervous was apparent. “But then we noticed this! Interesting, yes? We were hoping to obtain some more funding to study it.”

Oh bloody hell. Seaweed. Kelp.

I was an idiot.

Young Harald had just discovered Iodine.


	37. Dishonour - Chapter 34

At the look on my face as I gazed at the crystals, Laenor readily agreed to fund the investigation into it’s properties. I congratulated Harald on his potentially amazing discovery and tried my best to ignore the confused look on Laena’s face and Joffrey’s open curiosity. Then we proceeded to Jerrett’s new office, considerably more cramped than the old one, and were seated. He bustled off to arrange refreshments, leaving us alone.

“Well?” asked Laenor, eyes bright in excitement. I briefly had the urge to slap him.

“Iodine. Antisceptic and a supplement,” I replied. Laena stared between the three of us like I’d grown a second head spontaneously and no one else seemed to have noticed.

“Wait?… You wrote th-”

“Shhhhh.” Joffrey’s hand came to rest over her mouth. “Not when Jerrett is around.”

Her eyes went wide as she stared at me before nodding seriously. I tried not to let the annoyance show on my face that she knew but it was inevitable I suppose. I would have to trust Joffrey that she would not immediately run off and inform Daemon even if it made my teeth itch. Joffrey removed his hand and moment later Jerrett returned with two apprentices and drinks for us all.

“Sorry for the delay! We do not quite have the service our cousin’s in King’s Landing have yet!” Oh no, he absolutely going to cause trouble with the ‘cousins’ in King’s Landing. I shot a quick glance at Joffrey who caught my gaze and nodded, barely a twitch of his head, to let me know he understood my worries completely. Laenor on the other hand had placed his chin on his folded hands and nodded eagerly, waiting for Jerrett to begin.

“I will start off with the good news, shall I?” When no one spoke their objections, he continued. “Firstly the agricultural work we have undertaken. Although we are not ready for harvest our farms are looking extremely promising. We are predicting much above the initial estimate of an increase in yield of nine times,”

He paused for effect. Laenor looked like someone had just told him he’d won an all expenses paid trip to Yi-ti, Joffrey was leaning forward with an intense expression on his face and even Laena was looking interested now. As for myself, I could barely keep the smile off of my face. More crops, better ways of harvesting them and more food in total would see my reign a golden age of Westeros.

“Of course, we shouldn’t get to excited until we’ve successfully reproduced this feat a few times. The farmers of Westeros will not be convinced by one harvest, we must prove it is not a stroke of luck or some sort of trick!”

“Have you any luck in cross-breeding plants and animals?” I asked.

“We’ve set up some testing but I fear that it will be even longer before we see results from such things,” he replied. I nodded. Even intense selective breeding would take generations of control to show results. Still, as long as it was in the works I might see some results within my time. “Moving on to the press. We have decided on the most effective prototype using a screw press as the base. Wisdom Gawen reports that early results are promising but he still wishes to obtain a better metal for the type.”

“We will need to acquire literature we want to print in order to prove the usefulness of the press,” Joffrey said, folding his hands beneath his chin. Laena’s eyes lit up at the thought.

“Oh! We could produce some of the dragon manuals in Dragonstone. Mother often complained that she was never allowed to take them out of the castle.” Whilst that was a good thought, I’d known what the first thing we needed to print was since I’d placed the details of the press to paper. Although, I really really should print the dragon stuff as soon as possible. Those ancient and crumbling books were likely victims of Baelor in the original time line and were worth more than their weight in gold when it came to actually having a dragon.

They covered topics from physiology, training, diet, riding techniques… Literally priceless but, alas, not great candidates for uniting Westeros behind my press and against the Maesters who would surely object to it.

“The Seven-pointed Star,” I told them firmly. My show of piety would mean the Faith would have to approve, after all, who dislikes the idea of their holy book being disseminated on a scale unseen by even the Andal invasion? It may surprise you to know I was actually quite fond of the Seven-pointed Star. It wasn’t bad as holy books go. Comprised of seven books, go figure, each named for the aspects of the Seven-who-are-one.

Mother, Maiden, Crone, Smith, Father, Warrior and Stranger. Each book dealing with the kind of major life events the average smallfolk and the high and mighty noble could find common ground on. Birth, coming of age, becoming older, creation myths which weirdly fell under the Smith, law, war and death. Honestly, if I wanted proof that the worship of the Seven was complete bullcrap, all I needed to do was point at the Seven-pointed Star.

Because that book was created to be reassuring, non-offensive and as relatable as possible to anyone, be they King or farmhand.

“An excellent suggestion, Your Grace. I will inform Gawen of your decision,” Jerrett said proudly. Joffrey was nodding along proudly but Laenor and Laena just looked baffled at the decision. “On to less pleasing news?”

I nodded and grit my teeth.

“We have identified the type of seaweed used to create clear glass but it’s quite clear that we do not have nearly enough. Wisdom Beron has been instructed to create a way to farm it reliably but in the meantime our experiments within the Glassworks are much reduced.”

“Forward the types of seaweed you require to the Maester at Driftmark, I will instruct him to arrange for the collection of as much as possible in the waters surrounding the island,” Laenor ordered. I tried not to smile. Laenor wanted the Glassworks for Driftmark when it was perfected. If I could secure the seaweed farms for Dragonstone then it would ensure at least some income and another tie between the islands.

If I were being honest, I could understand why the Glassworks should be at Driftmark beyond Laenor’s desire to buoy his house once more. Dragonstone may have docks but it had no where near the infrastructure to deal with the demand for glass that Westeros would inevitably need. Spicetown was an ever expanding port town and could easily meet the needs of industry on a grand scale. Hell, even Hull could at a pinch but that was much closer to a shipwright’s abode these days. Ship creation and repair, less trading.

“As for the medicinal areas of study, Maester Gerardys would be the best to receive an update from.” The disapproval in his voice was evident. The Maester of Dragonstone did not get along with the new Wisdoms and Jerrett had made it clear that the feeling was very much mutual.

We did not tarry long after. Instead we rode to a cove not far from the town and settled down to watch the waves. Laena was sent away with a request to let those at Dragonstone know I was delayed. Joffrey and Laenor cuddled as I marshalled the courage it would take to tell Joffrey about everything. I nearly leapt out of my skin when Laenor placed his hand on mine and gave me a small smile.

“You need not do this alone.” I was strangely touched by that. Less touched when he promptly scooted back into Joffrey’s arms but the thought was there.

I finally managed to start, stammering the first part of my explanation regarding how I’d come to know these things, but I managed. Again I spoke of the Dance and it’s aftermath, how each King afterwards had eroded Targaryen power and finally our families fall from power at the hands of half of Westeros united against them. Afterwards Joffrey was silent, much in the same manner Laenor had been.

“Hmmmm,” he finally said after several agonising minutes. “So, it is confirmed Alicent will act and will do so with violence,”

“The War of Quills only occurred because neither side had overwhelming odds. If it looks like we’ll win a Great Council outright she’ll skip words and go for swords.” I told him.

“Alicent puts too much stock in her Reachman,” snorted Joffrey with all the arrogance of a Stormlander. “Still, it makes her courting of Lord Paramounts all the more worrying. Lords will vote freely in Council’s because it is anonymous, not following their lieges in battle and war is another thing entirely.”

We waited again as he tilted his head back and forth, occasionally squinting as something occurred to him.

“So I was truly destined to die at Criston Cole’s hands?” I nodded and he ran an agitated hand through his short hair. Laenor reached forward and took his hand. “Laena will not survive a second birth and Laenor must always have a guard we trust, Lady Rhaenys must not try and fight two opponents at once, although the Seven knows how we would stop her, and we must up the security at the dragon pit…”

He paused and then looked frustrated.

“And I can write none of this down! How do you cope?” he asked. I shrugged. In truth, I often forgot little details here and there only to remember them years later for basically no reason and promptly feel like an idiot for ever forgetting them in the first place.

“I think what we should take from this, more immediately, is that Daemon is a threat. He has no compunctions killing off those with rival claims be they adult or child. Blood and Cheese should demonstrate that!” I said, gesturing wildly. I knew Joffrey was fighting his part in the war for Laena but this would hopefully inspire him further.

“Now I must ask a difficult question. You said that this was a history book of sorts? How sensationalised is the tale?” I very much doubted it differed too greatly from what had happened as that would defeat the point of the book, something which I allowed them both to read on my face. Joffrey merely shrugged “But we can not be sure it was Daemon who hired Qarl Correy. It could have been any with a vested interest in forcing Rhaenyra to remarry. The Strongs, Alicent…”

“I was murdered months after Laena’s death and he was in Rhaenyra’s bed before the mourning period was even over!” cried Laenor.

“Alicent?” I found myself saying at the same time. Why would Alicent kill Laenor?

“But we must remember this tale was told after the fact from many different sources,” Joffrey replied, stubbornly, ignoring us both. “Including your Father’s fool, Mushroom.”

“He’s not a complete idiot. He just added certain explicit details to everything. Everything.” I told them with a dramatic shudder. “I dread to think what he’ll say about us.”

“Oh you will assuredly be playing the voyeur in his mind once more.” I went red, much to Laenor’s glee.

“Perhaps I should turn some spies on him if he intends to speak such calumnies,” mused Joffrey, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and ignoring my immense discomfort. “I may discover how Alicent so easily spreads her lies to the court. He would be the perfect vec-”

Laenor flicked sand at him and he recoiled, blinking in confusion at the suddenly impish grin on his lovers face.

“Must you make everything about politics?” he asked. “Rhaenyra knows the worst that can happen so we can make it better! She knows these magical things that will change everything! And you want to talk poli-”

A handful of sand hit him directly in the face mid-word, thrown by a suddenly intense Joffrey. I scrambled out the way as Laenor responded in kind. Their sand fight lasted for an impressive amount of time given that sand is terribly unpleasant to have in any orifice on your body and I was sure they’d eaten and snorted enough to make a decorative glass vase from.

Dragonstone was alive with activity as ever, more so with the King’s visit, when we returned. Which made Alton Rosby’s nervous demeanour stand out considerably when I finally dragged my two sand covered idiots through the gates.

“Your Grace, Ser Laenor, Ser Joffrey?” he said, voice as nervous as his body language. “A message from Driftmark. There has been an… incident?”


	38. Dishonour - Chapter 35

It seemed Daemon had gotten very drunk, stood up in the centre of Corlys’ feast in his honour and declared Laena’s unannounced babe to be his own. Apparently, Corlys had only narrowly averted disaster by having Rhaenys confined to her rooms. A feat, he added in his letter, that had taken four men and she’d still broken Malentine’s leg in the process.

Great.

I begged my leave from Viserys and promised him I would return to court once I’d dealt with Daemon. He was leery of letting me go but he understood that Rhaenys and Daemon left alone with such an insult being levied would end in tears sooner rather than later. Whilst the others bathed I arranged for my ladies and retinue follow Viserys to King’s Landing.

Then they met me with damp hair and fresh clothes. My heart dropped as I noted that ‘they’ included Laena. When she saw my look she folded her arms and frowned, mouth set in determination.

“I’m going with you,” she said before I could open my mouth. I wanted to slap her. Did she not see the damage Daemon was doing to her reputation as well as Joffrey’s!? 

“No.” I could not trust her to back Joffrey up. If she confirmed Daemon’s lies… Damn it, Joffrey didn’t deserve this.

“How are you going to stop me?” she asked, cocky grin on her face and tone mocking. It took Laenor catching me about the shoulders to prevent the incoming slap she richly deserved. Syrax snapped and snarled in Vhagar’s direction and Laena took a step back, grin falling from her face.

“Rhaenyra is worried you will side with Daemon. The harm to both our reputations would be incalculable.” As usual, Joffrey was playing mediator. Laena frowned, as if that hadn’t occurred to her. Wait, if she did confirm it we can legally hit her with a stick of wood! Confirm it!

“I… I did not think of that,” she admitted, voice small. 

“I believe you should come. See if you can not convince Daemon to be reasonable,” Joffrey said, meeting my eyes in a silent glare. Surely she wasn’t that close to seeing reason? I gave my assent and hoped he knew what he was doing. Laena shot me a small smile and mounted Vhagar, swiftly urging her into the air. I scrambled to follow on Syrax. Seasmoke launched himself into the air behind us carrying Joffrey and Laenor.

“You know, the Valryians used to practice formation flying! They used to put on aerial displays!” bellowed Laenor, barely audible over the wind and clearly trying to lighten the atmosphere. I had actually known that. Rhaenys had told me when I was first starting to ride Syrax and the young dragon demonstrated an ability at aerial acrobatics. A sudden need to get Laena back took over me so I urged Syrax onward, overtaking the siblings.

I hadn’t practised a lot of manoeuvres with her but who could ever resist saying they’d done a barrel roll on a Dragon?

I circled round so that I was facing Vhagar and Seasmoke and urged Syrax to pick up some speed. Underneath me I could feel her go taut with excitement and anticipation. That the only thing that really roused my lazy dragon from her naps was the idea of aerial acrobatics it was amusing to note. We rushed towards them and I just caught sight of Laena frantically trying to pull Vhagar out of my path before Syrax darted up. She snapped her wings inward and we rolled, the moment of vertigo as I looked up and saw the sea was brief as we ended the roll behind the two Velaryon dragons.

Syrax let out a bellow of approval as we went into a wide turn and began catching up again. I fell back in beside Vhagar and ignored the rude gesture Laena shot my way. From the way Laenor was sitting in his saddle and the way Joffrey was clutching at him, I would say that Laenor found the stunt hilarious.

Serves her right anyway. She could do with a bit of worry in that empty head of hers.

My trick was the only bit of levity we got before we arrived at Driftmark, all becoming more and more tense as the dragons touched down and we dismounted. I worried at my lip as we made our way into High Tide proper. I was sure it was a mistake to bring Laena but she would not be deterred and she did have the biggest dragon. Seasmoke and Syrax against Vhagar would be a no contest kind of fight if we weren’t aiming to kill.

Daemon was in the feasting hall. Drunk, I noted with a flicker of fear and shame. Around him he’d gathered a multitude of young squires and very minor Velaryons. Judging from the laughter, we’d caught him gathering his reinforcements. Laena almost tripped over her own feet when she saw him and Joffrey leant over and whispered something in her ear. She turned a wide eyed gaze on him and then smiled a small and fragile smile.

Unfortunately, that was the moment Daemon and his cronies spotted us.

“Ah! So you’ve returned to answer for trying to steal my child! My wife!” he bellowed. The hall was set murmuring and I felt the need summon Syrax and wipe his smug smile from his face. I could guess at his game. He wanted, no he needed, Joffrey to challenge him to duel. A duel Joffrey could not win. A duel Joffrey would instigate because Joffrey was still the Knight of Kisses for all I liked to think of him as the calm and controlled spymaster he’d forged himself into. 

“Why Prince Daemon, I had no clue Joffrey had lain with Rhea Royce as well!” Laenor’s weak jape got a few of the crowd chuckling and I didn’t bother to hide my smile. Daemon’s crowd wasn’t as in his sway as he thought. Let’s see how you do now, Uncle, when all is not in your favour.

Laena stepped forward and peered at him. I wanted to curse at the look on her face, she was all but confirming the babes paternity to every idiot here! Daemon seemed to realise his slip up though and he swept through the crowd and halted before her, smiling gently.

“Fear not, dear heart, I will have you from this marriage soon enough. Then we shall petition Viserys together,” his smile was actually tender. I hated him, in that moment. Pure crystallised hate. Laena pulled her eyes away from Daemon and examined us, turning pale when she saw the look on my face.

“Daemon, stop this. We can be together just… Joffrey is a good man. He just wants to help,” she whispered in a low voice. Daemon’s jaw clenched as he glared up at the man in question. Laena took a step back and looped her arm through Joffrey’s and shot me a pleading look. I forced myself to breath. It was the best I could ask for. An almost rejection of his overtures and stepping back into Joffrey’s arms, the optics were not great for Daemon.

A fact he’d realised as his face screwed up in confusion. He followed Laena’s look and our eyes met. I swallowed the sudden nerves and focused on trying to massage the pain from my fingers.

“You are a hateful creature,” he finally spat, face screwed up in a riot of emotions I could not parse. I saw Laena flinch in Joffrey’s arms and swallowed back my angry retort. War of Influence, Vhagar, Joffrey, Laena… don’t screw this up!

“Good afternoon to you too, Uncle,” I said with a calm I was most certainly not feeling.

“Good? You took her from me out of spite! Or is it jealousy?”

“Fraternal duty,” said Laenor, meeting the Prince’s angry eyes with his own cool gaze. “I would be a poor brother if I sold her to the man who would draw steel on his own niece. A man who would claim her babe as his own to hurt her,”

“I love her. She was to be mine!” he shouted back. I flinched closer to Laenor and cursed myself for it.

“She is nobodies but her own,” said Joffrey, drawing Daemon’s ire back to himself. My Uncle sneered in hatred before extending his arm to Laena who was watching him with wide eyes and clutching Joffrey’s arm with surprising strength. When she shook her head at the unspoken invitation he went red with rage.

“She bares my babe! Are you such a cockless wonder that you’d claim another man’s child for your own?” he asked. Joffrey’s hands played at where he would have worn a sword and then clenched. “Tell me, did Criston Cole take your manhood as well as your leg? Or do you still have that to drive in-”

“Enough!” bellowed Laenor, frightening us all. “You stand in my Father’s halls, Daemon! A guest! You will not insult my goodbrother so.”

He gave Laena one last desperate look and then rounded on me again.

“Tell me, niece, do these boy lovers please you so? Do they perform for you? Did you seek to marry my Laena to the cripple so you could secure him the teal and silver your husband desires? At least I can be sure it’s not because you want to bed her yourself, I have seen your lustful eyes on me, niece!”

“Stop it! Stop it! Why are you being so cruel?” sobbed Laena, sagging onto Joffrey and causing him to stumble slightly.

Blazing hot anger coursed through my veins and if it hadn’t been for Laenor’s hold around on me I would have surged forward and given my all for scratching his face off. As it was I managed one step before Laenor drew me back, arm coming round to pin my free hand to my side. Probably to prevent me launching a dagger at him, I realised through the fog of hate.

“Daemon, enough!” came Corlys’ bark and I realised he’d joined us, two guardsmen at his back and several more sending the crowd from the room. “This is unbecoming of one of your station!”

Daemon all but snarled at the man.

“Unbecoming? I am a King! My brother is your liege!” He turned to look at us all before his sneer fell back into place. “I have tarried here to long. I will petition Viserys directly!”

“He will not see you. He has given me control over your banishment,” I told him, proud of my steady voice, as he stalked away. He froze at the threshold of the hall and spun around, face a mask of disbelief. 

“No, no, he will see me! You are lying!”

“She is not, old friend. King Viserys sent the command on a raven today. I had hoped to speak to Rhaenyra in private before she made her decision.” Corlys’ voice was gentle as Daemon sank back against the great oak doors, face as pale as snow.

“You promised me her hand. She loves me, Corlys, and I love her. You promised me!” The desperation in his pleas saw my urge to vomit returning. Beside me Laenor was stiff, hands almost painfully tight around my arm. Corlys stepped forward and joined him by the door.

“I promised you support to petition the King. I promised you that if you obtained the annulment, you would have her hand.” His gentle tone became much harder. “You forced the issue by bedding her, getting her with child. You drove her away when you started with your threats and bravado. Can anyone blame her for her fear? When she runs from a man that threatened to kill everyone between himself and the throne if that is what it took to marry her.”

Laenor’s hands tightened again at that and I hissed, partly due to the pain but also due to the fact that this was the first I had heard of the threat. From the look on Laenor’s face, the threat was not new to him though. I risked a glance at Laena and noted it was me she was watching, not Daemon, her eyes round with fear.

Was she afraid of me or him?

Why would she be afraid of me?

Daemon slumped even further, face focused on the ground between his shoes. He drew in a shuddering breath after a while and tilted his face up to face the man he’d conquered a Kingdom with.

“I would make a better goodson than… him. Help me,” he pleaded.

“You have not shown yourself to be an exceptional husband so far. Lady Rhea could attest to that,” I observed. Corlys shot me an annoyed look as Daemon surged to his feet again, anger returning but not to the degree it had before.

“You will leave that Bronze Bitch out of it! She is just as hateful as you!” he hissed and I wanted to slap him again for the nickname he’d given her. She did not deserve Daemon. She was prickly, proud and blunt but she was also kind and caring. I knew, although I would never say so aloud, that she had wished for a babe for the longest time. She made do with each child her sisters and their families bought into the world but I know she wanted one of her own.

This fuck had denied her that.

“Why would I leave her out of it? You claim to be a better husband than Joffrey but at least he’s bedded his wife,” I replied with some heat, totally aware that I was being something of a hypocrite there. Joffrey’s eyebrows shooting up told me I wasn’t the only one aware.

“I can give her something no man ever could!?” he snarled. 

“The life of an exile? Or is it the shame of a bastard? The constant danger of a warzone to raise a babe in?” asked Joffrey. Laena was clutching at him, white as sheet. I’d never seen her so terrified. “I know what you think you can offer her Daemon. It doesn’t make you special. You aren’t destined lovers because she wants you.”

Corlys, Laenor and two guards were forced to physically restrain Daemon as he threw himself forward, looking very much like he’d just gone mad and decided ending Joffrey’s life was an excellent trade for his own. 

“Enough Daemon, calm down now! Violence is not the answer!” Evidently Daemon did not agree because a few moments later his fist collided with Laenor’s face.


	39. Dishonour - Chapter 36

It took four guards to haul him off in chains, presumably to a cell. Corlys was furious beyond words but that was nothing compared to Rhaenys. If Corlys ever got into her bed again he’d be the smoothest motherfucker to ever exist. Joffrey, Laena and I sat outside his solar listening as the Queen Who Never Was picked apart his entire life, throwing insults that had us all blushing and Laena eyeing a nearby window.

Ouch, Rhaenys did not hold back.

Laenor had trooped back from the Maester’s tower to inform us that his nose was broken but that it should heal fairly well. Joffrey mothered him excessively and I learnt that the Knight of Kisses had apparently spent a fair bit of his youth getting into bar fights if the advice he gave Laenor for dodging punches was any indication. Finally, Rhaenys ended her tirade, sounding hoarse and furious still.

And then Corlys called Joffrey and I in.

“Well, your plan has ended in a fine mess,” I told him, not bothering to sit down. Corlys clenched his jaw.

“You do not need to inform me of such. How is Laenor?” he asked.

“Broken nose. He’ll be fine,” replied Joffrey, taking a seat opposite Corlys. “But that’s not want you want to talk about is it? You want a way out.”

Corlys said nothing but I could tell he was angry. And humiliated. This was Tywin Lannister-lite who’d just had his entire plan blow in his face. He’d lost the esteem of his wife, son and daughter. He was in danger of losing every shred of political power he held.

If I poked his pride now, I’d drive him away forever. If I showed pity, he would resent me. If I ignored him outright, he’d screw me over at the worst time possible out of spite.

Curse these Westerosi Lords and their prickly prides.

“I have something of an idea, if Your Grace and My Lord will humour me?” The best thing I’ve ever done is hire Joffery was all I could think as he outlined his plan.

My Uncle looked very much the worse for wear. Some of those guards had clearly not held back, and laying hands on the Lord’s son wasn’t a good recipe for a peaceful imprisonment normally. His white doublet was stained with blood from a clearly broken nose, his wrists were raw from the shackles he wore and his eye was already beginning to swell shut. Rhaenys sat by him, fingers drumming on her thighs and just daring him to start something with her angry glare.

Daemon, for his part, ignored us all, arranging himself into the closest thing to a lounge he could manage.

I wanted to see him suffer.

“This has gone along far enough,” Corlys said, after we were all seated. I swallowed down my annoyance that he would take that stance when he had started it. This was Joffrey’s plan now and he needed Daemon to see Colys as an ally still. Daemon was definitely arrogant enough to assume breaking Laenor’s nose would not have affected his relationship with the man.

“I must apologise.” Daemon’s voice smoothly interjected. “I was drunk and acted in a manner far below my station.”

We all tensed as he rose from his chair and dropped onto one knee before Laena, even if he was hardly going to be seducing her half-beaten and bound.

“Forgive me, dear heart, I love you so much it is all-consuming. I will regret scaring you like that, losing my temper like, that until my dying day. You are the light of my life, command me and I am yours,” he murmured.

He closed his fingers around hers with an impossible gentleness and it was real, actual love I saw on his face. Laenor’s hand found mine as I swallowed around the sudden urge to scream. At least Laena seemed as discomforted by it as everyone else in the room, giving at least a token attempt to pull her hands back. He’d scared her, I realised. Suddenly all those warning do not seem so far fetched, do they, Laena?

“Daemon. That was cruel. You were cruel.” She seemed to struggle with words for a moment. “You hurt Laenor. And you… You swore you’d never-”

She cut herself off as she seemed to realise the rest of us were still present.

“Forgive me, forgive me, I should not have taunted you so. I should not have struck your brother so.” Wait, what? Taunted? I’m missing something here. I’m sure of it. My eyes flickered to Joffrey who was as stoic as ever. He had to know what they were speaking about. I had to trust he knew what he was doing. Daemon dropped small kisses across her hands as she stopped trying to free herself and simply let her fingers go limp in his grasp. His kisses became desperate and I burned in anger.

“Daemon,” said Rhaenys, warning in her voice. “Have some tact. She is a married woman.”

He stood and turned to Rhaenys, who rose to face him in turn. Corlys cleared his throat as if it were no great problem but I could see he was tense. Daemon was shackled and already injured but Rhaenys’ power was Meleys not hand to hand combat.

“I will not abandon my love,” Daemon said, backing off from his enraged cousin and turning his eyes on Corlys. “I am the only man for her. Not this excuse...”

A warning glance from Corlys cut him off.

“Why can we not all ally and petition Viserys?” asked Daemon, mouth set into an unhappy curl and a whine in his tone. “She loves me. Only me.”

“Because it is no longer the matter of my daughter marrying, it’s become part of wider political tensions,” Corlys said, repeating Joffrey’s earlier explanation. “To say Alicent dislikes you is like saying water is wet. Her lords still infest the court, for all that they have fallen out of favour, and their only true opposition are Jeyne Arryn’s Vale Lords. So, Viserys can not grant the annulment and offend both of those parties.”

“My Brother loves me. He will do so if it means my happiness,” Daemon said stubbornly. I remembered the bitterness that Viserys had let slip during our drunken heart to heart and wasn’t so sure. You mocked him for his entire childhood but are perfectly willing to use him when it suits you.

Well, Uncle, he has washed his hands of you. If it weren’t for the fact that forcing you out now risks a tantrum you’d already be gone.

“That he loves you is not in doubt but he is king.” King was said with some disgust there, Rhaenys. “He can not afford to offend the various factions.”

“Neither can we. I will be clear with you Daemon, for the sake of my grandchildren, I am united behind Rhaenyra’s Blacks. That may not please you but I will no longer go against her,” he looked towards me and nodded curtly. “We have been at odds for too long, Gooddaughter, if I want my son’s sons in their rightful places I realise I must put side my own pride.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. This was my price. My price for letting him back to the table. No more scheming, no more struggling for power, no more interfering. He is mine. Anything he does is for me and Laenor and in time, his grandsons and his blood sit the Iron Throne. But first Daemon had to be dealt with. Joffrey had already set those wheels in motion, apparently. Give him the perfect solution to his problem in a way that ensures his pride will not allow him to accept it.

“Of course. When the time comes, my beloved niece will have my full support,” he lied. Laena was nodding along with him, eyes bright. Rhaenys just sighed, dangerously close to despair or violence.

“Daemon,” Corlys warned again and the man dropped the pretence and glared at me.

“I will make sure she gets everything she deserves,” he said and I did not like the tone or the wording one bit. My hand gave a warning ache and I rubbed at it.

“Daemon?” Laena wasn’t completely stupid or blind, she’d seen the malice in the threat. He turned to her again and I could tell he wanted to rant and rage about how unfair he found everything. “We would be loyal? To my family? To Rhaenyra?”

“When they have only given disloyalty in turn? They would chain you here when you are a creature born to be free! I know your secrets, your follies! They would keep you from me and abandon you to your fears!” She flinched at that but he didn’t seem to notice. “I would have given my everything to Rhaenyra and she rewarded me with hate in turn! I delivered your father a kingdom and he failed to deliver me a daughter!”

Her mouth moved silently, repeating his words over and over as if he’d spoke them in a foreign language.

“I don’t understand. You said we would help Rhaenyra and my brother?” My urge to scream returned but a look from Joffrey silenced me. I clenched my jaw as my Uncle moved from his chair again and took her hands, dropping those small kisses over her fingers once more. She shuddered and I hoped it was in disgust.

“I love you. You are the only one I have ever loved. I am the only man you have ever loved. Our hearts are destined for each other. I would abandon the Stepstones for you, I would fight the world for you, I would die for you and live for you but do not ask me to fight for that hateful creature!” his tone was low and urgent. I wanted to punch him, feed him to Syrax - anything! Anything other than sit here and watch him play the lovestruck fool over Laena.

“Why do you hate her so much?” she asked, eyes wide. That derailed my little revenge fantasy I had going quite thoroughly.

“She tempted me, dear heart, she made it clear she wanted me. Then she refused me, I promised her everything, to rule by her side, and she rejected me. She poisoned Viserys against me, had me-”

“You are fucking delusional,” I growled. Laena’s wide eyes had turned to me, studying me with an intensity I wasn’t sure I liked. Memories of that night intruded once more making breath harder to draw and my hand feel as if someone had set it aflame.

“Daemon, I was there for most of your return to King’s Landing! Do not think you can lie your way out of this,” Rhaenys said, coming to my defence before addressing Laena. “Sweet girl, she came to Driftmark fleeing him. Do not tell me you do not remember?”

“You.. You just said there had been trouble at court and that I was to welcome her,” said Laena, faintly. Then she seemed to realise he was still clutching her hands and she pulled them away. He pulled away in turn, looking like someone had just shot him in the heart. “I thought you meant Alicent.”

“Laena, he was the trouble. He pursued her. He drew Dark Sister on her. Hell, he practically maimed her!” Laenor told her, tapping my damaged hand.

“She mocked me, my love, mocked my loss and mocked my marriage. I lost my tem-”

“Lost your temper and shattered her hand. The girl still struggles to use it,” Rhaenys stated plainly. Laena bought her her hands up to her face in shock, paler than I’d ever seen her. “You’ve been all but spitting in her face everytime you’ve insisted Daemon is the dashing romantic prince of your dreams. No doubt she thinks your bastard is a testment to how little you care!”

“I thought it an argument about being heir… I thought I could fix it,” she mumbled. “I thought…”

“I did not realise the break was so bad,” said Daemon, through gritted teeth. The sickening sounds my hand had made as he’d brought his boot down and twisted caused bile to surge into my throat. “I truly apologise if pains you still.”

“Not good enough,” I said, struggling to control my breathing and fighting the lightheaded feeling the threatened to send the room spinning. Rage helped. How dare he not know!? How dare he not know how much he had scared me? How much he had hurt Rhea? How much trouble he’d caused!?

“You had the Grand Maester to attend to you. My broken arm was tended to by a bone setter on Bloodstone a full week after Criston Cole snapped it,” He raised his arm and flexed it, showing off the raw skin beneath the shackle. “My arm has not pained me since.”

That sounded like an accusation. I stood, causing both Laenor and Joffrey to tense and struggled with my glove. Using my shaking off hand, the anger I was feeling and the fact that tears were blurring my vision made me clumsy. I flinched when Laenor stood next to me and took my hand, pulling the glove away as gently as he could.

He knew. He was with me. He had my back. Breathing became a little easier.

He brushed a thumb across the burning flesh and his mouth set into an unhappy grimace before he motioned Laena over. She came as if she were in a dream, a dream that just got worse and worse as it went on. Her touch was gentle and cool and I flinched at the oddness of it. She probed my fingers as Laenor pointed out where you could feel the bone was misshapen underneath the skin.

I kept my eyes on Daemon. I wanted him to know how much I hated him.

“I did not know,” she murmured, so soft I would not have caught it had the room not been tense and silent. “It feels as if it’s burning.”

“It is,” I managed through gritted teeth and she let her hand fall and then dropped back into her chair, eyes staring into the distance. I retook my own seat.

“Laena, it was an accident. I would not maim my own niece on purpose,” Daemon said with urgency in his voice. “Please do not believe that I could, I could not bear it.”

“What else am I to believe?” Her head came up and she stared at her currently very uncomfortable family. “The Seven must curse me. I am cursed.”

“Sweet girl, he is a sweet and seductive man. He took you in-”

“The Seven curse me because even when I see him for what he is, I still can not help but love him. I thought him my salvation, now I realise it is punishment.” Her voice was bitter and self-deprecating. I actually growled in frustration, that she should still…

“I will change! I will be worthy of your love, my dear heart.” He was a man begging on his knees. “I have been a terrible man in the past. I admit to it freely. You make me a better man. Do not leave me now.” He was crying. It was real and genuine. Just what we needed. It would be scary to me that Joffrey could set people up to this degree if it weren’t for the fact he’d rather cut off his left leg than betray Laenor.

Daemon was a pathetic sight now. Tears of grief through swollen eyes and a broken nose, on his knees before a woman, his wrists bound in shackles and wearing bloody clothes.

I wonder if Joffrey has any bards in his employ, the Begger Prince sounds so much more appropriate than the Rogue Prince.

“Then you must prove it, Daemon,” Corlys said, making us all jump. It was hard to keep the triumphant smile of my face as Corlys played his part perfectly and the jaws of the trap closed. “Go to the Stepstones, secure it for the glory of your niece. Prove yourself a changed man and perhaps when Rhaenyra is Queen… well, the High Septon would answer to her.”

I grit my teeth and fought the urge to rub it into his face that he would never, ever have Laena. It would not help, for all that it would make me feel better. Corlys had played his part well enough, now it was time for mine.

“That is true. If Laena wishes it, I will argue that Laenor’s approval of the marriage was not legal in the eyes of Westerosi law,” It was a very, very weak excuse and anyone with half a brain would know it. It didn’t matter though. It would never happen.

“If my niece would swear an oath to do such a thing, then I will… do as you have asked,” Oh, you lying liar.

“I swear it, Uncle.” I replied, heart beating loud in my chest. “Secure the Stepstones for me, help me take my rightful throne, and I will make sure you stand at the altar with Laena one day.”

He turned back to Laena, who still looked as if she was three seconds away from leaping out the window. Why did she think she deserved punishment?

“I will do anything to be with you,” he said and kissed her hand one last time. I don’t believe that for a second. So now we just need to wait for the other shoe to drop.


	40. Dishonour - Chapter 37

Afterwards, Laena left for an earf- sorry, walk along the beach with Rhaenys, Daemon was placed under guard to prepare for his departure at first light, Corlys stayed in his solar to punish his liver and Joffrey, Laenor and I went to Laenor’s rooms. After Joffrey had declared Laenor to be ‘overstating how bad his nose pained him’ and Laenor had done pouting, we turned our attention to heavier matters.

“Do not worry. He can not accept sharing her. He can not accept putting himself under Rhaenyra’s power. Give him a few hours to work himself into a rage and do something stupid,” Joffrey told me and then poured himself a cup of wine. “Then Corlys will ship him off with no blame attached to us and he’ll look like an unhinged lunatic. We will secure Vhagar and Laena’s allegiance with little work on our part.”

“I dislike referring to my sister in such mercenary terms,” grouched Laenor.

“I apologise. If I’m being truthful, we were merely unlucky. Had Daemon remained on the Stepstones we would have had time to further bring Laena to our side. I had an angle of sorts. Him being present makes it far less effective,” Joffrey surmised as he took his wine and collapsed onto the low couch. Laenor dropped down next to him and drew him close.

“I am sorry Joff, I did not realise I was putting you in harm’s way.”

“And who else could you have married her too?” asked Joffrey, tangling their hands together. I suddenly felt like an intruder. “You married her to me because you wanted me close but if we speak truly I can think of no other who is loyal to Rhaenyra who would not only overlook the loss of her maidenhead but also the bastard.”

“We could have let her go back to, Daemon,” I said, voice bitter. “Let her learn just what her fairy tale life would have been.”

“Rhaenyra you can’t mean that!” Laenor cried. Joffrey just sighed.

“She’s angry Laena threw everything back in her face. Our Princess does not accept rejection lightly.” I frowned at that before turning round and walking to the window. He was right, damn him. Aegon, Laena… no, I’ve never taken rejection well. He could at least make me sound less like Daemon though.

“Rhaenyra?”

“Hmmm?”

“I am sorry about my sister.”

“What’s done is done. We need to think about the future now. What will we tell Viserys when we get to King’s Landing?” I asked, trying to cast her from my mind and not quite succeeding.

“We tell him Daemon believed Laena his by right and reacted badly to rejection. Corlys will have to silence the men who saw today but most will bow to him. Alicent will suspect but she’ll be even less willing to potentially push Laena into Daemon’s arms.” Joffrey told us. “We’ll be dancing the line of acc-”

“Must we speak about politics again? It’s all I ever get to speak about these days. I want one night where I don’t have to think about bloody Daemon and who my sister is bedding,” Laenor sighed, frustration evident in his voice. I turned from the window and seated myself on the couch next to them and pushed a lock of silver hair from his face, enjoying the bewildered look I got in return.

“If we don’t play politics, we’ll all die in dragon flame,” I told him before tapping him gently on the nose. Joffrey chuckled as he wrinkled it in response.

“I shall throw myself into Seasmoke’s maw if I must play the perfect Prince even in private!” he cried, finger jamming into a chuckling Joffrey’s side. Joffrey jerked away and looked as if he very much wanted to respond in kind.

“You’re being dramatic, Laenor. You like playing politics more than you admit,” Joffrey said before running a finger over his neck, causing Laenor’s eyes to flutter closed and him to lean in to his lover’s chest. The tension seemed to drain from his body as Joffrey brought his arms around him with a chuckle. I had no business being here.

“I am going to ride Syrax! Have a nice afternoon.”

Ride her I did. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d simply clambered aboard Syrax and rode her without any real ulterior motive other than to just ride. Although my lazy dragon might grumble, I could tell she enjoyed it too. I urged her on through the winds, coaxing out the acrobatics Rhaenys had so praised her for. She especially loved dropping down low to send the sea spraying upwards with her claws. It was a meditation of sorts, taking all my anger, fear and jumbled emotions and letting Syrax burn them all up. A way to let my mind wander and just feel Syrax beneath me, let her take me where she wanted. I barely even had to use my whip, she seemed to respond to the lightest touch on the reigns or twist of my body.

I was half-drowned and emotionally numb when I finally took her in for a landing and clambered off. One of the braver Velaryon men volunteered to strip her of her saddle and I was dreaming of a warm bath and dry clothes to replace my sodden riding gear when an out of breath Laena jogged into view. I managed to stifle the groan as my warm bath seemed further and further away. Instead, I marshalled what little energy I had left and grit my teeth.

She still loved him. She knew everything and she still loved him.

Something must have shown on my face because she approached cautiously, as one might approach a wild animal you were unsure of the temperament of. Okay, I will admit that sometimes that approach was warranted. She was still breathing hard when she reached me but she looked a little more reassured I wasn’t about to strike her with something when I didn’t fly into a rage. A bold move to keep approaching given I still had my riding whip.

I’d put up with so much, I was so close, I wasn’t going to piss it all away now because I was angry with her.

She could suffer after Daemon was safely away.

“I saw you riding Syrax. Mother says you’ve gotten even better,” she began, directing a small hesitant smile at me. Not in the mood for small talk, I raised an eyebrow. I’m sure I looked very impressive to her, being five foot two and vaguely resembling a drowned cat. And possessing the temper of one, I reminded myself. “Okay, she said you handle her better than a drunken ostler.”

I couldn’t help it, I snorted in amusement and some of the tension drained out of her shoulders. I didn’t take it personally, she’d once referred to Laena as an adequate rider. Adequate. The girl was the best rider of our generation. Adequate my arse, she could go toe to toe with Rhaenys on a good day.

“She told me I had to come and speak to you,” Laena told me. “To beg your pardon and to ask for my position back amongst your ladies.”

Oh son of a-

I’d forgotten about that. Fuck me, I’d been stupid enough to forget. Laena was one of my ladies. Rhaenys may have assumed I’d striped her of her position but it hadn’t even occurred to me to do so. My ladies that accompanied me everywhere. Like to King’s Landing.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I opened my mouth to tell her that she wasn’t stepping foot in the capital in my employ but she cut in.

“Please. I made a mistake. I did, I know that, but I was never disloyal. I never betrayed you. I never betrayed Laenor.” When I had nothing to say to that she frowned. “You will have my nieces and nephews. You’ll put them on the throne. Please believe I would never endanger that.”

“You already have,” I stated sourly.

“Not on purpose! I thought I could bring him to you.” I did believe that. She loved her family too much to turn against them as Daemon would have required. She would love any offspring of her brothers too much to take a throne for her own from them.

She was a naive child with a temper. I’d known this. I’d always known this. Joffrey had known this. Laenor had known this. Hell, even Rhaenys had known that her complete lack of knowledge as to how the world actually worked would see her in trouble one day. None of us had done anything, even I had merely found it a charming quirk.

I worked my jaw, annoyed at being put on the spot.

I needed something to bind her to me more solidly before I could begin to trust her once more. How I hated that. That I needed blackmail material, that I needed to be the one in control, before I trusted her. Even if I could trust her she’d be a complete liability. I would be forever wondering about where she was and what she was being tricked into.

Damn it. Damn her. Damn Rhaenys.

“Do you not wish to have the babe on Driftmark?” I asked, changing tact. She blinked in surprise and laid a hand against her stomach. She would be showing soon. Hell, I was surprised she wasn’t already but new mothers were often slow to show.

“You do not wish me with you in the capital?” she asked, pale and upset. I mentally winced before sighing.

“Laena-”

“What do you want from me? I will do it. I want to be of use to you and the Blacks since I have damaged your cause.” Those were her Mother’s words. I studied her in the half light of the evening and grimaced.

“I can’t trust you,” I admitted and she recoiled from me as if I had physically struck her.

“But you would go through all of this for my dragon? Why? Why if you can’t trust her rider!? Why not just write me off as a lost cause?” Her sobbed question held a hint of anger and struck me dumb for a moment.

I had put up with Daemon’s antics for her dragon. Put up with Laena’s antics for her dragon. I was going to put up with Daemon’s child close to me for years, potentially, for her sodding dragon but that dragon followed her rider. What good was the dragon if I couldn’t trust the rider?

“Fine but if you ever pull anything like this ever again, there will be no third chance,” I got out between gritted teeth. She nodded so hard that I feared her head may fly clean off. I’d have to get Joffrey to watch her to make sure she was never alone with Alicent’s lackeys.

I led her back to Laenor’s rooms and finally got my bath before changing into something dry then we took our meal in Laenor’s room as a storm began to roll in, thunder crashing in the distance and the wind beginning to pick up. A note arrived from Lady Rhaenys half way through dessert telling that Laena would be expected to announce her pregnancy to her family in the morn. The damage control had evidently started then.

I did not envy Corlys in managing this shit show.

The note set the cat amongst the pigeons and so as a distraction we broke out the playing cards and a pitcher of wine. We probably should have remained sober but my body was eighteen with all the joys that brought and I was stressed out of my mind. So sue me. The four of us were more than a little tipsy when Laenor gave up being the butt monkey and dragged Joffrey over to one of the bookshelves, reading risque poetry from Lys to his blushing lover.

I found myself growing melancholy after a while. The two seemed genuinely happy. I wanted that, I realised. I wanted to be happy with someone. Woman or man, I wasn’t sure it mattered to me anymore but I wanted it.

“I am sorry,” Laena said in a low voice startling me from my revelation. She’d remained at the table with me, sipping wine. “I did not know. About your hand. I asked Mother. She told me everything. That he pursued you beyond all the boundaries of acceptability. That she tried to protect you. That Viserys… your Father did not listen-”

I cut her off as I held up my fingers and marvelled at how alcohol numbed the pain that was normally present when I moved them too much, was stressed or when Daemon came up in conversation. Laena’s hands gently caught them and she probed the break again, pushing and rubbing at it in the way I frequently did when it pained me.

“I thought it was a tell for when you were nervous or lying,” she whispered and I could just pick up the bitterness in her tone again. “I thought you lied a lot.”

“I do it when it pains me. It pains me a lot,” I replied, wondering why we were whispering. We stayed in silence for quite a while, listening to Laenor’s terrible poetry recital and Joffrey’s occasional guffaws and gasps of scandalised shock.

“Could Maester Gerardys fix it?” she asked as I basked in the cool touch. I was well aware that I should not be letting her do this, that I should be pulling away, but that lonely ache inside of me would not let me. Instead, I let myself relax a little and allowed only a slight feeling of guilt at enjoying it. Laena had been the first, and to date only, woman I’d ever wanted in this body. I’d fled to Driftmark horrified at my attraction to Daemon and found her. My one lifeline to what my mind insisted was normal. I could look at other women all I liked and feel nothing.

“No. He would need to re-break them in the exact way they were broken beforehand. No healer could be that precise. It seems I am stuck with them,” I answered, shaking myself from melancholy thoughts. Her lips pressed together at that and she carried on, as if the news they could not be fixed was a challenge.

“Perhaps we should go to my rooms?” suggested Laena, startling me out of half-doze about ten minutes later. I followed her gaze and drew in a sharp breath.

Yes, let’s definitely leave Joffrey and Laenor to it.


	41. Dishonour - Chapter 38

I followed her through the halls of High Tide, unsteady on my feet. I would have to watch that. Viserys was too keen to drink to forget his problems and I had no desire to end up being a second Viserys. Or a first King Robert. Then again, Laena was as unsteady as I was and apparently, quite the merry drunk.

“Did you see the look on Laenor’s face?” she murmured in a low voice before dissolving into giggles once more. In fairness, the fact that Laenor had forgotten our existence only to remember it as we left the room was hilarious so I giggled along with her.

Besides Joffrey’s plan was still echoing in my brain. She needed to be invested enough in me and my cause that Daemon was slowly pushed out.

Her rooms weren’t locked but it still took a while for us to fumble around with the heavy latch and get the doors open. Then we poured ourselves inside, still giggling. I wasn’t sure what I expected from them to be honest. They seemed cozy. A writing desk covered in books that I would hazard a guess included information about dragons or geography, several beautiful maps decorated the walls covering Westeros and Western Essos, a table and chairs surrounding a low-burning fire bathed the whole ensemble in a low and warm light.

In truth it was not to dissimilar to Laenor’s rooms. He just had a whole lot more books. The door swung shut and I turned to compliment her on the decor and realised she was frozen, staring in horror at something behind her. I followed her gaze and my blood turned to ice.

“Good evening, niece, I did not expect to see you here so late.” His smile was cruel as his eyes moved from me to Laena where it softened. Why was he here? He was supposed to be under guard!

“Daemon, why… you did not say you were coming.” Her eyes flickered to me and she bit her lip, looking worried. “You should not be here.”

I got the message. She hadn’t invited him. He wasn’t here because she wanted him here.

“Where are your guards, Uncle?” I asked, proud my voice did not waver. The smile he gave me told me everything I needed to know about their fates.

“They’ve retired for the night,” he said, completely unconvincingly. “I needed to speak with you, dear heart.”

“If you’ve killed my Father’s guards you’ll have less than nothing from me,” she said, voice cold. I forced air into my lungs. Fear was doing an admirable job of clearing my head of the fog of wine. Pain lanced through my fingers and I had to force a whimper to die in my throat.

There was no Criston Cole to save me now. I only had a six dinky knives and Laena.

“Laena, come now,” he said in a tone that had anyone used on me would have earned a slap at the minimum. It was patronising, as if she were a sulking child as opposed to the woman he professed to love. “We have had this conversation before. You swore you would not deny me anything.”

He stepped forward and I stepped back. Laena remained still, eyes blazing defiance.

“I thought you a better man back then. A man who would not maim his niece or betray his oaths.” Oh Laena…

Daemon just chuckled in response to that and paced forward, slowly, as if he were some great cat stalking it’s prey. Then his eyes flickered to me and my heart seemed to leap into my throat.

“It is good that you have come, niece. This seems to be a day of truth, it is only fair you receive your share.” I forced myself to meet his eyes, to not show that I was internally screaming in horror. Laena’s sharply drawn breath drew my eye to her.

“Why am I not surprised?” she said, voice bitter and angry.

“I betray my oaths or did you forget that?”

Alright, I clearly only have half of this conversation. I watched as Daemon met Laena’s eyes. There was some sort of power play here. He knew something she didn’t want me to know and they were playing chicken as to whether she would give in before he told me.

I had to play this carefully.

“Come with me. Leave behind this uncertainty. I’ll even secure the Stepstones for her. I’ll put her on that damn Throne if I have to do so alone against all the world but come with me. Stay by my side.” A cold feeling of horror spread from my gut. So this was his plan. We’d thought he’d do something rash in his anger… this spoke of planning.

That was the problem with Daemon. He was impulsive, hedonistic and proud. He hated being told no or being disobeyed in any way. He hated coming in second to anyone and was good enough that it rarely happened. He was charismatic, cunning, intelligent and good enough with blade and lance to dance through life without really trying.

We had assumed he’d see the trap and opt to flip the table rather than lose the game but… but mayhaps he’d thought he’d found a strategy that would let him win.

“Daemon, no. We all agree-” He cut he off with a laugh, strolling past us both and dropping into one of her chairs, falling into his habitual lounge. Laena’s mouth pressed into near invisibility in displeasure.

“You all agreed. I did not. Do you not see what they have done?” he asked. Laena did not answer and he snorted. “She wants your dragon. Not you.”

“I know that!” Laena was flushed red with rage and he smirked again. I could run for the door. I could probably get it open before he caught me. I could scream for the guard then, bring every man in the castle running.

“Laena, she is not your friend. She sees you as a stepping stone on her path to the throne. If she truly cared about you she would have worked with you so that we could obtain the annulment. She would have sent you to me with her blessing.” Oh shit. Oh shit, he is good. “Instead she married you to a man who will never love you. Never please you. She dragged you down to her level so you could share her misery.”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what was worse; that this had a good chance of working or that he was right. I had to do something. I’d be a bigger fool to let him control this whole conversation.

“That’s not true,” I was proud my voice did not shake, at least. Laena’s head whirled round as if she’d forgotten I was there. “Laena, you know that’s not true. I care for you. He is not a nice man, he would have hurt you in the end.”

“I’m a woman grown, Rhaenyra. You are the younger,” she said, looking miserable.

She does not know he would kill her. She does not know how low he would fall. Would she still make the choice to be with him if she knew? I swallowed back the old and familiar rage but some of it must have shown because she met my gaze with a defiant stare. Daemon laughed once more.

“Look at her. So full of hate and anger. What do you honestly think will happen when I’m gone? That you’ll be friends once more, that you’ll tell each other your… deepest, darkest secrets and all will be well?” My heart raced as she stared at her feet. “No. She’ll make you suffer for insulting her so. For bringing me back into her life. She’ll make your life miserable. She’ll make our child’s life miserable.”

I wanted to protest that it wasn’t true but the words stuck in my throat when Laena raised her gaze to me and I realised she’d already known.

“You’re petty, vain, angry, overly proud and arrogant in the extreme,” she told me, looking distinctly unimpressed. My heart dropped. Why was it always so easy to forget she was observant? “But I’ve always known that, Rheanyra.”

Guilt and shame hit me like a sledgehammer and I dropped my gaze to the floor. I’d married her to a man who’d never love her because it was convenient for me, I’d treated her like a pawn in a chess game and I’d blamed her for it all.

“How sweet,” came Daemon’s mocking tone.

“Enough,” she told him sharply. “Enough, Daemon. You’ve made your point.”

“You will finally see sense then? Abandon this woman who is not worthy of you?”

“And you are?” she asked incredulously. My head shot up so fast I thought I might give myself whiplash. “You keep threatening me! You broke my brother’s nose!”

She examined us both, eyes critical, before she carried on.

“You both treat me as if I am some kind of prize possession. Something to be awarded to whoever can win this war of yours! You’d pull me apart and leave me broken before you let the other have me, do not pretend you would not!” She took a deep and shuddering breath. “I am not some plaything, not some tool to be argued over.”

Hadn’t I learned that lesson with Laenor? I’d been so happy to manipulate and lie… and then I’d done the exact same thing again on a woman arguably more observant. I am an idiot. A complete idiot that does not deserve that dragon.

I was supposed to be better than this. Better than Westeros.

Daemon’s catlike smile became a sneer and he rose to his feet. I wanted to step back again but I was rooted to the spot by a storm of emotions.

“I am not a patient man. You have one more chance.”

“Or what? You’ll tell her? Tell anyone who will listen?” He paused, tilting his head as if her defiance was completely unexpected before frowning in anger.

“What do you suppose she’ll do when she knows?” he asked, eyes glittering dangerously in the low light. Laena just laughed bitterly in response.

“You’re just proving my point!” When Daemon stared at her though, eyebrow raised in question she turned her head and looked at me. “She’ll be disgusted. She’ll pretend she isn’t because she’ll want my allegiance but…”

“I’m missing something,” I said before my brain caught up. Daemon chuckled and I was really starting to hate that stupid, stupid sound. I tried to keep my breathing level and not quail under his gaze.

“Indeed you are, niece. Perhaps we should mark this day with a festival? The day you admit you do not know everything,” he snarled, features coloured with anger. Then he turned back to Laena, who just looked… I couldn’t place that look actually.

Resigned. Tired. Numb. Maybe all three.

“I’ve made my choice, Daemon. I choose my family.” His hand shot out and gripped her arm with so much force that I forgot my fear and staggered forwards. I watched helplessly as Laena’s hands curled into fists and her face twisted in anger right back at him.

“I love you. I love you so much I fear it my burn me up from the inside. You took my dull, unexciting life and brought colour to it. You made me want to live for someone else. You bear my child. I am yours and you are mine.” I wanted to retch. “Do not do this, Laena, I will not warn you again.”

“I am doing this. I am. This is my choice. I do love you. I know I should not but I do. But I can not have the both of you. I realise that now. Joffrey wanted to have me believe I could but he’s wrong. You proved that so I must choose. I’ve chosen family and home and my future Queen.”

Hah. I should be reveling in that. Crowing to my Uncle that I had won. Instead, I am ashamed. She thinks me some petty tyrant she will submit to and I’m not entirely sure how wrong she is.

“Do not do this to me,” his tone was quiet and carried the promise of violence. I tensed up, hand finding a knife amongst the folds of my dress. I had one throw, maybe two, before he absolutely demolished me. When Laena merely raised her head in defiance once more he snarled and spoke again.

“You will never have her. Never. She’ll make your life a living Hell. You’ll be stuck here, miserable, constantly yearning for what you can’t have.” Then he paused and sneered once more. “Or who knows, perhaps my whore of niece will earn her dragon on her back?”

Understanding hit me like a tonne of bricks.


	42. Dishonour - Chapter 39

“Oh,” I breathed out. They both turned to look at me. Daemon’s face was triumphant. This was his trump card. His play to push me into screaming denial, the one thing he believed I could never tolerate.

Understanding beat me about the head.

He thought I put up Laenor because I had no choice, because to expose him would be political suicide. It made his skin crawl so why should it not mine? And if I felt that way about Laenor, in his mind, what would I do if Laena directed those feelings at me? After all, I had rejected him, come to hate him, after his desire was unwelcome…

Laena was pale. It honestly looked as if she was three seconds away from throwing up. As the silence stretched on she closed her eyes and seemed to brace herself, as if she expected my rage to get physical and she wasn’t sure how hard I could hit.

I forced myself to focus. I was an idiot. An absolute idiot. She’d all but tried to tell me at the feast! How long had she been sitting on that? I could have set her mind at rest and maybe headed off so much of this bullshit. Nerves set my stomach rolling and I wet my lips.

I could have had her. I could have had her in my bed and Daemon would never have gotten his foot in the door. My body was waking up now, informing me of how much that thought pleased it.

“I see,” Laena’s eyes opened once more and Daemon’s triumphant smile flickered and faded slightly. “I am not disgusted. That does not disgust me.”

They both stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. Then Laena laughed. Well, it was more a hysterical giggle. Then she turned those violet eyes to a startled Daemon and they narrowed.

“You see!” That smile was very alarming. “She does not care! Of course she does not!”

I saw it in his face then. He knew he’d lost. He knew that there was no way Laena would be leaving with him. That he’d shot his bolt and missed. He was angry. Very, very angry. Panic surged through me as he took a few steps closer to her, hand falling to where he normally wore his blade.

“This isn’t over, Laena. I do not lose. When you realise my dear niece is lying through her teeth I will be waiting for you. For my child.” Then he bought and hand up to her cheek. Laena didn’t move, still as a statue. “And if you make me come to you, you will not enjoy what happens next.”

“Enough!” My voice came to me, finally, as I managed to master my fear and panic. Wrestling my breath under control. “Uncle, enough. You’ve gone too far!”

“Dear Rhaenyra, you never fail to surprise me with how low you are willing to sink to claim that Throne. You ally with Alicent against your own blood, feign tolerance for that boy-lover, let him put his colours on his lover with your blessing… now you’re willing to whore yourself out for a Conquerer’s dragon. Of course, you must defend your children’s rights. Corlys wants a grandchild on the throne and the Seven know you can not provide that! So you must send me away, render my child’s claim null with your little marriage scheme and secure his Mother’s… good will.” The way he said good will made me want to burn my clothes and then boil my skin off for good measure.

But not even the rage and fear I was feeling could distract me from Laena’s careful movements. Slowly backing up as if in fear… towards the door.

Okay, good thinking.

He sneered at my silence, taking my realisation of Laena’s plan as having nothing to say in my defence. I saw him lean back, getting ready to turn, to point out how terrible I was to someone who wasn’t standing by his side anymore.

Shit!

“Daemon Targaryen!” His attention whipped back towards me. All right, time to do this. Time to do this right. My voice trembled when I spoke again and I cursed it.

“In the name of Viserys, first of his name, King of the Andals, the First men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne, do hereby reinstate your sentence of banishment to be effective immediately, punishable by death should it be broken!”

He stayed still for a few moments and the tilted his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking and eyes running with mirth. I grit my teeth as Laena reached to door, eyes on me and worried.

“Oh Rhaenyra that ship sailed a long time ago. You think I care about banishment now?” he laughed again and then turned to Laena, realising to late she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. He blinked when he saw her by the door.

Finally, his face morphed into one of fury. My fingers burned in response. He might have done something very stupid then, might have struck me or pulled a dagger or another unforgivable crime but Laena put a stop to all of that when she pulled the door open and and screamed for the guard.

He cursed and fully turned away from me to the door. Not the door, I realised as he started moving. Laena. He’s heading for Laena. He’ll do something terrible because she rejected him. He’ll do something terrible because he’s angry.

I let loose one of my daggers, mind blank with panic. With no time to aim, it was an appalling throw. I was tired, still tipsy and far from composed. It didn’t even hit him. In fact I was probably lucky I didn’t hit Laena. Instead it flew past Daemon’s chest and bounced of the the wall, leaving an ugly chunk missing from the dark wood veneer. Daemon crashed to a halt in surprise.

Taking advantage of the momentary pause, Laena scrambled backwards out of my sight and down the hallway. I could hear the guards now, shouting out in alarm and bringing more with them as they moved towards us. You had to hand it to them, when the Lord’s daughter screamed for help they arrived with a fire beneath their arses.

I was treated to one last look of utter hatred before he ran in the opposite direction.

Moments later men in Velaryon livery crashed after him, fully armed and ready for a fight. I let out a breath I hadn’t even known I was holding and sat down on the floor before my legs gave out. My heart thundered in my chest and I felt dizzy and sick. Spots danced in front of my vision and I realised when I raised my hands to rub at my eyes that I was shaking.

I don’t know how long I stayed there. Laena joined me at some point, dropping a heavy teal cloak around my shoulders and sitting next to me. I risked a glance at her but she was lost in her own breakdown.

She’d really loved him. Actually, genuinely loved him. In return he’d… done whatever this was. Damaged her family, hurt her brother, spilled her secrets. I put a cautious arm around her shoulders and she flinched.

“Laena! Rhaenyra!” Our separate, private brooding was interrupted by Laenor and Joffrey’s arrival. My husband flung himself forward, scooping up his sister into a powerful hug before moving on to me. “The guards… they said Daemon had attacked you. I feared the worst!”

From behind him Joffrey’s brown eyes studied us intently, as if seeking out any injuries that we were hiding from him. He was clutching his stick tightly, fingers white. Had his leg not been broken by Criston Cole, Joffrey would have gone after Daemon. His temper could match any dragon rider’s when roused.

“No, no, we are unharmed,” Laena told him in a shaky voice. “He… he wanted me to go with him. I do not think he expected Rhaenyra to be here. He said terrible things…”

“Does this have anything to do with what we discussed?” asked Joffrey, causing Laenor to turn towards him with a frown on his face. It should not have surprised me Joffrey knew, he had spoken of having an angle after all. An angle less effective with Daemon present.

“Yes,” said Laena shakily. Then she drew a deep breath. “Yes. He told her. She knows.”

Laenor caught his sister by her arms as she trembled and guided her into one of the seats. I stood, awkwardly, and removed the cloak she’d given me. He took it and wrapped it around her and she curled into it, tears coursing down her face.

“It’s not a problem,” I said, after Joffrey turned his eyes on me. “I said I didn’t care.”

“What are you all talking about?” asked Laenor, rising from his crouch. Laena turned her eyes to us in despair. He took her hand. “Laena?”

When we were silent and she did not respond he looked stricken. Upset.

“Laena, talk to me? You can tell me anything. Remember when you were nine and you broke Father’s vase?” A ghost of a smile played across her face at that. “Please, there is nothing you can say that would make me love you less. You’re my best friend.”

Fresh tears spilled down her face.

“I… do you remember when Rhaenyra was banished from court?” Laenor shot me a puzzled glance at that. Not that I could enlighten him, I had no clue what she was on about either. “And you sent me home with news. I got Joffrey to let me into her rooms even though she was sleeping. She was… she was so beautiful. The Realm’s Delight.”

I saw recognition spark behind Laenor’s eyes then and he turned towards us both with the look reminiscent of a dog who knew it’s owner was hurting but did not know to fix it and was hurting in turn. Laena clutched at his hand like it was her lifeline, the only thing stopping her from drowning.

“Then she woke up and she looked at me like… like she wanted me. It thrilled me at the time but I did not know why. Understanding came later. I made a joke of it.” Is that when Joffrey had figured it out? Or was that when he began to suspect? “It was Daemon who first showed me my shame.”

“It is not a shame!” It was hard to tell who had spoken first, out of Laenor, Joffrey and I. She looked at us all bewildered, eyes lingering on me before wiping tears from her face.

“It is. It is for you and it is for me and it is for Joffrey. We pretend it is not but it is.” Laenor went to protest but she silenced him with a raised hand. “Rhaenyra forgives you and Joffrey because she wants you. She pretends it does not bother her but I see the way she looks at you.”

Laenor turned accusing eyes to me and I blushed, suddenly finding my feet very interesting. The silence stretched onward after that. No one quite knew what to say.

My mind was whirling though. A leap of faith, a confession that would bind her too me. Fear made me hesitate. My brain still screamed she could not be trusted. It screamed she was clearly struggling with herself, that inserting myself in to the equation would complicate it further. It would create an expectation that I was not sure I could fulfill…

But had I not spent the last six months mooning over my own loneliness? Had I not bemoaned my own lack of intimacy? Had I not condemned her to the same fate? This would give everyone a chance to be happy. And if I hid it and she discovered it later, I dread to think of the fallout.

“Laena, I did not mistake you for Laenor,” I finally said, feeling like I might fly right out of my own skin. She studied me. I wasn’t sure what I had expected. Cautious hope, maybe happiness.

Certainly not disappointment.

“Rhaenyra, I will be loyal to you. I will bring Vhagar to bear against your enemies. But please do not insult my intelligence. Surely even you can not think that lowly of it.” Before I could defend myself she started speaking again. “You look at Laenor like you want to eat him alive. You’ve even look at Joffrey like that sometimes. Harwin Strong, Forrest Frey… I’ve seen you look at our Father like that!”

Joffrey snorted at that as I felt my face heat up. Laenor for his part just look bewildered like the fact I was actually attracted to him physically was brand new information.

“You want to bed-” he started but I cut him off.

“Alright we don’t need to air everyone I’ve ever looked at with interest!” When had she ever caught me ogling Corlys!? “But I wasn’t lying. Joffrey, tell her!”

Unfortunately, my attempts to convince Laena of my sincerity were ended when a bellowing roar split the sky. We rushed to the window in time to see Caraxes’ vast form rise up and soar south but not before delivering his terrible breath directly into the distant gleaming lights of Spicetown.


	43. Interlude - Joffrey

Spicetown burned. It had been burning through the night and well into morn. The men had formed bucket chains now and were fighting it. Even from High Tide he could see the destruction. Great swathes of the town reduced to cinders, houses pulled down to form fire breaks and worst of all, the three terrible gouges where Caraxes flame had struck.

Daemon Targaryen was a dead man walking, he thought to himself as he finally pulled his eyes from the destruction. He would see him dead even if it took him a thousand lifetimes and his other leg. Laenor had poured his heart and soul into that town.

He limped his way through the familiar halls of High Tide to Laenor’s rooms.

Laenor would not be in them. His heart gave a pang at that. How was he supposed to deal with the revelation of Laena’s proclivities? He had not known, not for sure, until she’d returned and by that point the matter had been to delicate for him to tell Laenor!

His Silver Prince had fought the flames for as long as possible besides his men, directing their bucket chains and helping create the fire breaks that had saved a large part of the residences. Then he had gone to his mother and three of them, Laena included, had shut themselves away.

Laenor’s silence hurt. It was like a knife to his heart. The heart he had so recently reopened to the man he’d given his heart to the moment he had seen him. So recently… it was hard to believe that the feast had been just a few days ago. So much had happened.

He had returned to his rooms early. Criston Cole had been with the King that night and the sight of him made him sick with rage. Impotent rage. Laenor had been there, waiting for him, ready for some heartfelt gesture or declaration of love as only his sweet prince could.

He had given in. Once they’d bedded one another they’d spoken. Truly spoken for the first time since Criston Cole had shattered his leg on that field. It had been like coming home. He could not leave him again. Would not. The world could go hang itself if they ever thought the the Knight of Kisses would abandon his Seahorse once again.

For all that Laenor would not be in his rooms, someone was. He paused and listened at the door a moment as had become his habit since his Princess had trusted him as her Spymaster.

“Where can we find that vaunted honour!? Is it with the two bastard boys and whatever Laena whelps? Is it with the fortune and the fleet you sank into islands you’ve lost? Or is it in the ashes of Spicetown!”  
He winced at the way she said Laena’s name. Her word choice was damning as well. She still smarting from Laena’s rejection. She’d moved too soon, been to dismissive of Laena’s turmoil on the matter and been rejected. She would consider it the second such rejection if he knew her. She was too proud to try for a third.

He opened the door and stepped inside.

When he’d been nine there had been a Great Council. All the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms had gathered at Harrenhal to pick the next heir to the Throne. His Father had been a great supporter of Rhaenys Targaryen, or rather her Uncle and his Lord, Boremund Baratheon.

It had been that vocal loyalty that had earned his son a place as the Sea Snake’s squire. The nine year old Joffrey had left his home and taken up service to the Lord of the Tides. He’d grown up fetching the man wine or papers, training under his watchful eye or running messages back and forth.

But never in all of the decade since had he seen Corlys Velaryon this defeated, this tired. It was a testament to how serious this was that the old man had foregone his faux-sailer garb, opting for a rumpled doublet. He’d not even worn a doublet when his brothers had died.

Rhaenyra did not look much better. Dark eyes that spoke to a lack of sleep and the hint of red that he’d come to know meant she had been crying recently. The empty pitcher spoke of ingested wine… a lot of it if how she was swaying in her seat was any indication.

Corlys paused in his response when he entered before snorting and gesturing to a free chair. Rhaenyra did not react as he lowered himself next to her. Her jaw was clenched tight. He internally sighed at that. It was a sign she was barely keeping her temper in check and if her earlier outburst was any indication when she did finally lose it, it would be explosive.

“Peace, we must remember the true enemy here,” he told them. Corlys gave him a stiff nod. An acknowledgement. He did not return it. He was Rhaenyra’s, not the Sea Snake’s.

“Daemon.” Corlys’ voice was cold fury. “That bastard. May the Seven curse the day he was born.”

Rhaenyra’s head shot up again and he silenced her with a warning look.

“We should scour those islands to the bedrock,” she said sourly. Corlys’ grimaced. Those islands had cost him a lot of capital. The fleet he’d used to take them even more so. Add in the fact that Spicetown had burned and Laenor’s investments not yet seeing a return…

He would be willing to bet the Sea Snake’s financial position was less secure than it had been since his voyages.

“We have taken a hit but we can recover.” He was a Velaryon now, after all. He sometimes forgot that, forgot he had taken his wife’s name, forgot he had taken the colours of the man he loved.

“Aye, don’t worry about it. We still have the businesses in Hull. Some of the docks can be expanded there in a pinch-”

“We can petition my father for funds to repair Spicetown,” Rhaenyra cut in. He winced mentally at the slur in her voice.

“Or sell Dark Sister,” muttered Corlys. Rhaenyra froze and stared at him.

“What?” He did not like that gleam in her eye.

“You do not think I was foolish enough to give him his sword back!? We’ve got it locked up. I suppose we’ll have to return it to Viserys.” Neither Corlys nor Rhaenyra wanted that, although for different reasons. He decided to head her next idea off at the pass.

“You can not wield Dark Sister,” he told her as she opened her mouth to suggest just that.

“Why not? We could buy into the whole warrior queen business and snap up some of those War Hawks.”

“Firstly, the last time you drew a sword you nearly cut your own fingers off. Secondly, please remember the last warrior queen that bore that sword. You are already associated with alchemy, do you wish to risk an association with sorcery? Thirdly, the moment we reveal we have Dark Sister, Viserys will want it back. It is his right as head of House Targaryen. Then he’ll probably give it to Aegon or Aemond at some point and improve Green legitimacy.” She sulked at that but it was gratifying to know she was sulking because she knew he was right.

His princess trusted him and his advice.

“Besides,” added Corlys “Those War Hawks, as you call them, will be after Daemon like a starving dog after a cut of meat. The moment the news of this… what is the word you use? Shit show. Yes, the moment they hear of this shit show they will be clamouring to burn the Stepstones.”

“Can we even attack Daemon with what we have now? Your fleet is at Bloodstone.” Corlys blinked in surprise at the question and he hid his smile. Rhaenyra was not trained in war but sometimes, just sometimes, she would have some bizarrely accurate insight you would not expect. “We have four dragons but no fleet. And of those four dragons only two stand any chance against Caraxes.”

“And of those two only one… only one has seen true war,” said Corlys darkly. “I will not send my wife and children to their deaths. Only Rhaenys has a chance against him and she… humph, I am not convinced she would prevail.”

“Then he gets away with it!?” Corlys just laughed bitterly.

“For now. We can not respond alone. We must await Viserys’ decision,” he told her and she scowled. She had never had a high opinion of her Father if Laenor’s reports were to be believed.

“We have a more serious topic to discuss anyway,” intoned Corlys. He frowned. He could think of no topic more serious than Viserys’ decision regarding Daemon. “When this gets out it will shake up the political scene once more. We must capitalise on that. We can no longer guarantee the level of bribery we have before, as such we must turn to other… methods.”

Ah, he thought he saw where this was going.

“We must speak about your heirs.”


	44. Back to Normality - Chapter 40

The Small Council chamber was empty but for Lyman Beesbury when I finally entered. That was normal. I had never actually seen Lyman Beesbury anywhere other than this table and I wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t fused with the wood and velvet of his chair years ago.

Still, one could not argue he was not damned effective at his job. Rego Draz may have been the best Master of Coin the Iron Throne would have, past and future included, but Lyman Beesbury was likely a close second. I certainly would pay money to see the old man meet Littlefinger, that’s for certain.

And in another time he had lost his life for Rhaenyra Targaryen.

I greeted him politely and he made his own greetings back. He’d never been a talkative fellow but during my times as cupbearer he’d been happy to teach me his trade. I will confess a lot of it went over my head but he’d been delighted I’d even tried.

Even Viserys dismissed what he did as copper counting to a degree.

“Your Grace, I had not expected you to be here.” Jasper Wylde. As unpleasant and slimy as Lyman was the opposite. I plastered a smile on my face.

“If I am to be Queen, Lord Wylde, I can not skip too many Small Council sessions.” It was credit to his talent as an actor that he didn’t scowl at that. He was a Green through and through. Even now if Aegon, Aemond and Daeron all suffered random accidents all unrelated to me he’d still struggle to choose between Daemon and I.

Even after everything Daemon had done. Damn him to the Seven Hells.

“Well said, Your Grace,” he conceded as he took his seat. No doubt he was under orders from Alicent to play nicely. She wanted Daemon’s head, and other parts of his anatomy, as much as I did.

“Oh, am I late?” came the reedy, high pitched voice of Grand Maester Mellos. Not as old as Runciter had been and with quite the unfortunate manner. I’m not sure what it was but even the greenest Green disliked spending time around him… and woe betide you if you needed any healing. His bedside manner was even more appalling.

“Not at all, Grand Maester,” Lyman assured him, voice faint with age. “We are merely early.”

Silence fell awkwardly over us all until the doors opened yet again and Lord Corlys stepped inside joined by Lyonel Strong. Both looked to be ending a conversation reluctantly and I coughed to hide my chuckle. They’d struck up a surprising friendship and it was doing wonders for Black control of the Council.

Speaking of which…

“Hold the door please!” Ser Corbray just made it as Corlys slammed his hand into door to prevent it from shutting on him. The Master of Whispers looked as if he had sprinted the entire length of the castle. Probably because he had, if those papers in his hand were any judge.

Jaremy Corbray was a Black as well. Brother to my biggest fan Gawen Corbray, although they thankfully hadn’t spoken in years. He was also hilariously incompetent. I’d given up trying to form him into any particular talent under me and had thrown him to Ser Joffrey.

Those pages were his, I was certain of it. New information as like as not. I wet my lips. There was only one subject matter the King was interested in these days.

The Hand of the King, the Master of Whispers and the Master of Ships took their seats. The divide was obvious even to the most uninformed observer. Lord Corlys and Ser Corbray were mine in body and soul. Lyman and Lyonel were mine because they were Viserys’ in turn.

Jasper and Mellos bowed to Alicent in all things. Rounding out the Greens was Criston Cole, when Viserys let him attend, leaving her with three to my four. Five if you counted me. Rhaenyra had lost control of this Council and it had led to her downfall. I was not going to let Alicent wrestle it from me without a fight.

Finally the doors opened once more and Viserys stepped through flanked by Lorent Marbrand and Steffon Darklyn. He was grim when he saw us already assembled. There were dark shadows under his eyes that screamed of a lack of sleep and I felt a pang of sympathy. The ongoing situation with Daemon was hitting him hard.

We watched in silence as he stalked through the chamber before dropping his bulk into the chair at the head of the table. After a few moments of shifting to get himself comfortable he gestured to Jaremy to begin. Thankfully, the Master if Whispers did not need clarification on what Viserys wanted to hear.

“I have acquired the information you requested from my agents, Your Grace. It’s as recent as possible but please be aware we are suffering from a significant pushback against our spies.” Viserys nodded, jaw clenched tight. My own insides squirmed and my fingers panged in pain. “It’s… it’s bad news, I’m afraid.”

“As you are aware, the Triarchy began raiding the Stepstones the moment they heard the news about your Brother’s disgrace. Now they are preparing to launch a full invasion force to take back as much as possible.” I didn’t miss Viserys’ flinch when Jaremy had said the word brother. “In response… the… ah,”

Viserys’ fist impacted the table and I flinched. Along with Mellos and Jaremy himself.

“Get on with it. What has that pox on our House done now?” he asked through gritted teeth. I swallowed hard. The last time he’d been this angry he’d laid his hands on me. If Daemon were in this room now he’d tear him apart with his bare hands, kinslayer or no.

“I’m given to understand there was a sizeable… er, holding camp of sorts? On Bloodstone?” Corlys groaned and dropped his head into his hands, attracting our attention.

“We were holding the defeated there until their ransoms came in or we sent them to the wall,” he told us, voice muffled by his fingers. “Slavers, pirates - the worst scum you can imagine.”

“It seems he opened the gates and declared any man who followed him to be free. He burnt the rest.” Jaremy told us. I felt sick. Never in my life had I ever thought Daemon would fall this far. He’d made such a big parade about how he was liberating the Stepstones from slavers and worse… now he was their king.

Viserys was on his feet, pacing back and forth.

“How many?” he asked eventually. “How many followed him?”

“With those men and the forces who chose not to flee when he took control of the Velaryon fleet I would estimate he has… ah, about six thousand men following him.”

“That is nothing. The Redwyne fleet alone can deal with that,” opined Jasper Wylde. Corlys just snorted in derision.

“If Daemon were any normal man, perhaps, but he has a dragon. He’d burn that fleet to cinders before they reached the shores,” Viserys sneered.

“We have four dragons to his on-”

“And which ones would you condemn to death!? My daughter!? My cousin!? Her children!?” roared Viserys. Jasper shut up, looking pale. It was rare for Viserys to get like this but when he was… hoo boy. “Only Rhaenys has the experience and skill to fly against him and sending her alone is suicide. Meleys would be winded, they’d be fighting above his territory and… and he is vicious. Rhaenys, for all her ability, can not face his viciousness alone.”

“There are also rumours of… foreign priests and other queer folk from further east.” Jaremy said, flicking through Joffrey’s report. “They say he is trying to… ah, recruit those with knowledge of magic.”

“Of course he is!” snarled Viserys. He was almost out breath with the force of his rage. “My brother does not have the sense he was born with.”

“Do not worry, Your Grace. Magic has been dying in Westeros since the Age of Heroes,” Mellos told us but he looked unsettled himself.

The room was silent as Viserys paced back and forth, wheezing breath setting my teeth on edge. I caught Corlys’ eye. He wasn’t happy he couldn’t take the islands back by force… but Daemon was one man and if Lord Corlys hadn’t already sent his own assassins I would be very surprised.

“Sanctions then?” asked Lyman. Viserys dropped into his chair and ran his hands over his face.

“We go further. Place a bounty on his head. It’ll give those young bucks something to chase… how much can we afford?” he said finally. Lyman blinked in surprised before glancing at his account sheets.

“It depends on how… displeased Your Grace is?” Lyman hesitated.

“Consider me ready to kill him myself. If I still had the Black Dread I’d have burned and salted his islands and made him fucking watch. I should have gelded him when he laid hands on Rhaenyra and damned you all!”

“Then the treasury can easily afford fifty thousand gold dragons,” Lyman answered quickly. I winced. Fifty thousand gold dragons… that was over twice the gross amount Dragonstone made in a year. Every bounty hunter in Westeros and Western Essos would want a bite.

Assassins of every nation, Dorne, The Triarchy - how long would he be able to keep his Kingdom? Even he needs to rest occasionally.

Still, foreign priests and queer folk from the east. Magic. That did not bode well. It was putting me in mind of a certain red headed preistess and her support of the brother of a King.

“Good. Have it disseminated as far and wide as possible,” Viserys’ voice was cold. “I want him brought to justice for what he has done.”

“And what is His Grace’s answer for the petition for funds to rebuild Spicetown?” Lord Corlys tensed. Viserys had been taking his bloody time with a decision, another thing which did not bode well. He was normally quick with his more generous actions.

“Daughter, what is your opinion?” he asked and I was peripherally aware of Lord Corlys’ jaw dropping. As did Wylde’s. Mellos looked very uncomfortable. I knew the feeling.

“Daemon burned Spicetown to avoid pursuit, Your Grace. He attacked a member of the Velaryon family as well. All whilst under guest right,” I started, unsure of why he was asking me. Surely Lyman was the best for advice. “He did so as a member of House Targaryen. Even if he was in disgrace at the time… we owe House Velaryon recompense for the damage done.”

He studied me for a moment and then nodded.

“I approve the petition, Lyman. You’ll have your gold, Lord Corlys. Spicetown will be rebuilt.” Corlys looked extremely unsure when he bowed his head in thanks. “And might I extend my thank you once more for returning to your rightful position as Master of Ships.”

“You are quite welcome, Your Grace. Your daughter is very persuasive.” Viserys beamed at me in pride, the first bit of happiness he’d shown since he’d arrived, but I couldn’t move my smile away from slightly queasy. It had been my price… my price for agreeing to birth an heir.

It made me want to throw up. I’d had the mother of all panic attacks when he’d forced the issue. It had come to Joffrey threatening to hit him with his stick over the matter when I agreed. He had been right in his arguments.

If I wanted my royal procession to yield any results beyond vague promises of support I needed more than vague promises of future heirs. Even one would secure everyone in the knowledge that I could have them. As long as they were silver haired they shouldn’t be named bastards widely, even if Alicent was going to try her best otherwise.

I really, really hope they take after Laenor.

I’m really not internally screaming at all.

“So we are to deny the petitions to mount a martial response to Daemon and announce the bounty on his head?” Lord Jasper was asking when I finally dragged my head out of the clouds. His eyes flickered to me. “Many lords will be… displeased.”

“Those lords can attack him with their own men if they so wish to claim the bounty that way,” Lord Corlys snorted. “But all they’ll get for their troubles is a fried army.”

“He is under assault by the Triarchy. It is only a matter of time before the Dornish sense his weakness as well!” Jasper cried, then shot a guilty glance at Viserys.

“Then let him die on those islands fighting beside slavers and scum. Let him die when a hidden knife finds his heart or some Dornish assassin finally manages to fill his wine with poison. Let him die alone with none to mourn him, having sacrificed every shred of his honour for nothing. The only loss I mourn is Caraxes for that noble beast deserved better!” he barked, rising to his feet. Darklyn and Marbrand stepped forward to flank him.

“This meeting is over! Rhaenyra, I would speak with you in private!”

What have I done now!?


	45. Back to Normality - Chapter 41

The fact that Lyonel Strong was to accompany us alongside the two Kingsguard worried me slightly. It meant that whatever it was, Viserys felt that it could have political repercussions.

“How is your work with Alicent coming along?” asked Viserys after we’d walked out onto the small balcony that looked out over the bay.

“It’s a work in progress. I’m waiting on some of Alicent’s… staffing choices.” Ugh, it was such a shit show. We’d not been back five minutes before my dear Father had suggested I occupy myself with reproducing Dragonstone’s administration within the Red Keep and only two minutes after he’d said it aloud during a family meal had he realised how badly that was going to look to his wife. The woman nominally in charge of that sort of thing and who was now looking at him as if she were mere seconds away from developing the ability to kill with her eyeballs.

He’d been desperate for a topic that wasn’t how badly Daemon had fucked up. He’d hoped for a nice little task to ease me in to King’s Landing again and instead wandered into a political minefield. That was Viserys for you, I guess.

So he had, whilst desperately attempting to extract his foot from his mouth, settled on a compromise. I would create the rules and positions and Alicent got to choose who went where. At no point did Viserys see the problem with that.

Great. Nice. Awesome.

Because the Blacks really needed that hit as well as Daemon’s shit and Corlys’ money troubles to boot.

Alicent was now the unquestioned mistress of the castle and had even gone so far as to remove those she didn’t feel were Green enough from their posts. This meant she’d resorted to shipping in knights and ladies from the Reach. I’m not screaming internally, at all.

“Excellent. I know Alicent was pleased with the whole business!” Oh, I bet she was.

“Alicent is a smart woman, Father,” I said and managed to make it sound like a pleasant observation instead of a curse. He beamed at me before proffering his arm. I took it and tried not to shudder as we meandered along the balcony.

“About heirs?” he asked after a while, eyeing my stomach meaningfully. I didn’t quite suppress the shiver that ran through me but he ignored it, like he ignores everything that doesn’t quite fit into his world view.

“Laenor and I are trying,” Liar liar. I hadn’t brought myself to do so yet…

“It cheers an old man up to hear of babies on the way,” His face had brightened considerably. “No doubt young Laena has your mind on the matter!”

I winced at that. She was showing now and I still wasn’t thinking of babies when I looked at her. Now that I knew she wanted me in turn every time we met I felt to big for my skin, butterflies exploded in my stomach and I felt like that fourteen year old Rhaenyra following her about like a lost puppy once more.

Aaaand she wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Fuck my life.

I took a deep breath and centered myself before I had a panic attack about babies or Laena in public. Mentioning I was hoping to have a child soon had been a mistake in retrospect, Viserys had seized on it as the only good news that had been delivered since Daemon’s flight.

“Do not worry Father, you will be the first to know when I am expecting.” He beamed at me. Something told me he was really looking forward to grandchildren. Like, really looking forward to them. “But surely you did not ask me here to discuss Alicent and my pregnancy?”

I winced again as his face darkened. So I was right. He was just avoiding a difficult conversation.

“I must know… it is a difficult thing to ask…” he began, eyes flickering to Lyonel. “Daemon made certain claims before he… left.”

I swallowed thickly and braced myself for a difficult conversation.

“Are you referring to his claims that Lady Laena’s babe is his? Or the claim he made that I am bedding Lady Laena? Or is it the excuse he gave to absolve himself of the burning of Spicetown, that Lord Corlys attacked first?” Viserys was silent, studying me. “Because none are true Father, it is Daemon attempting to wriggle free of the consequences of his actions once more!”

He stopped his walk and gazed out across the bay, jaw working hard.

“What colours do you wear Rhaenyra?” he asked finally. Flummoxed, I glanced down at my habitual black and red. His raised voice had my head snapping back up. “What words are yours? What creature is yours!?”

“I don-”

Targaryen! Black and Red! Fire and Blood! You are a dragon!” When I flinched, his face softened. “You are not a seahorse, not a Velaryon, however close they have grown to us. To you.”

“I know that,” I said quietly, heart somewhere in my stomach.

“Who is the head of House Targaryen, Rhaenyra?” he asked. Behind me I could hear Lyonel shifting uneasily.

“You are.” He nodded at my answer.

“I am. I am the head of our House, your Father and your damned King!” His voice was steel and I could barely meet his eyes. “So when I ask you to tell me the truth you will tell me the damned truth! Now, let us try once more. Is the babe Laena Velaryon carries my brother’s get?”

Shit, shit, shit. Viserys had taken the gloves off.

“Your face says enough.” Panic surged through me. “Do you know you tense up and then relax when you lie? You have been doing it since you were old enough to lie. I am your father, at least credit me with knowing your tells.”

“Father please! Please, do not hurt her!” It hurt my pride to beg but if he revealed the father of her child now I doubted she’d survive the aftermath. “Father, she has been punished! She was taken in by him and she has been punished for that!”

He held up a hand, cutting me off.

“She is a woman grown, Rhaenyra, older than you and old enough to face the consequences for her actions,” he said.

“She married below her station! The Father of her child burned her families pride!” His face remained stony. “Father, I will get on my knees and beg if it pleases you but do not do this!”

Fear for the girl was stealing my breath. He frowned.

“Pleas-”

“You will keep the Velaryons in check. Lord Corlys once sought to rule through Rhaenys and he will seek to rule through you as well. And if you ever hide anything from me again…” The warning was clear as he trailed off. I nodded. He had his stick now, I thought furiously, stripping me of my title of heir had never been a threat but threatening Laena… damn him.

Daemon had him looking around him and realising how fucked everything was.

“And the second thing, Father?” I asked sullenly after a period of silence.

“Your brother is old enough to squire. Away from court,” he grunted. A pit opened up in my stomach. He was definitely trying to put us all into order then. I’d bet Syrax there were two reasons behind sending Aegon away just as I returned.

The first? People at court were starting to whisper. Everyone has seen how terrified Aegon is of me and it’s gotten to the point where it’s not even me directly anymore but anything he perceives associated with me. The word ‘craven’ is starting to get muttered a lot behind his back… aaaaand to his face. Westeros is horrible.

But also Viserys was giving me the capital. Sending Aegon away meant Alicent could no longer use him personally. Perhaps he was not so blind to Alicent’s attempts to fill the castle administration with Greens as I had expected.

“Who are you sending him too?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. I felt like the world had suddenly shifted about me. Viserys had always been a speed bump before, something to be worked around certainly but never an active player.

“Alicent wants me to send him to Jason Lannister. I have a mind to agree.” Damn, she probably has him then. I’d have to tell Joffrey to step up his work on the Reynes. Historically, the Reynes have always been a good check on Lannister power. They too claim descent from Lann the Clever, albeit a cadet branch, and they’ve often had small skirmishes with the Lannisters. Oh, nothing on the scale of the Rains of Castamere or even like the Boltons to the Starks but enough to let the Lannisters know they really wouldn’t mind the Red Lions in Casterly Rock and it would only a take a small slip on the Golden Lions part to see that happen.

But the Reynes wanted what everyone wanted. A piece of my future children although they’d kindly let our agents know they’d settle for a daughter instead of a son. A future Lady Reyne instead of a future Queen.

“Not Oldtown?” I asked. Viserys’ face darkened again and I realised that Old Town had likely been her first choice. Why refuse to send him to one Green just to send him to another? Why let Alicent fill the castle with Greens and then send her chosen candidate away? What game was he playing?

“No.” Ouch, that must have been one hell of an argument. Still, I’d long ago given up hopes of turning Aegon to my side. The fact that Alicent’s plan had blown up in her face did not amuse me as much as it should. Aegon was eight and what little self-confidence he had was being obliterated by the court right now.

Also, I had no real alternative. He could hardly squire for Jeyne after all and I had no other Black that came with as much prestige as a Lord Paramount.

“I have no objections if Alicent is happy with the arrangement.” Viserys nodded stiffly. Of course, if I’d actually had objections it wouldn’t have counted for anything. He was letting everyone know that for all we schemed he was still king and he had the final say.

We danced at his pleasure.

Lord Corlys found me after Viserys had left. I honestly don’t know if I preferred him as incompetent or competent. He might be trying to actively help me now but… well, it came with certain expectations and a hell of a lot more oversight.

And he finally had power over me. Fuck my entire life.

“What did Viserys want?” Corlys asked as we made our way to my rooms. Casa Velaryon was an awkward place to be right now so I wasn’t surprised he was lurking about the Red Keep. Laena had told Rhaenys, apparently. It went down like a lead balloon if the suspicious looks I kept getting and Laenor and Laena’s strange reluctance to be in the same manse as their mother were any indication.

“He is fostering Aegon at Casterly Rock at Alicent’s suggestion, apparently.”

“Blast! Well, Joffrey said she was after them. How goes our courtship of the Reynes?” I didn’t answer and he groaned. “They want a marriage too. How goes your attempts with my son?”

“Well enough.”

“We agree-”

“I know!” A few curious bypassers looked over at us at the shout. I grimaced and lowered my voice. “I know. If it pleases you I will start tonight.”

“It would have pleased me if you’d started the day you were wed,” he said as we reached the door. Inside I could hear the tell tale sounds of my ladies playing cards. Honestly, I regret teaching them some of the games. They’ve taken to it entirely to quickly. Blackjack being an ongoing favourite.

“Yes, well, we did not,” I said, testily.

“I shall ensure Laenor comes to you tonight.” I did not answer and opened the door. Corlys just snorted and bid me good day. I returned it with as good grace as I could manage and finally let myself relax as I stepped inside.

“Your Grace! We were just getting started on another game!” Alys told me, waving a handful of cards that told me she’d once again lost money to her compatriots. My eyes drifted to the woman on her left though, sitting with downcast eyes. Laena.

Laena, who had turned me down cold. Laena, who’d barely spoken to me since. Laena, who thought me a whore willing to spread my legs for a dragon.

At least I could take solace in the fact she thought me the most expensive whore in existence.

“Please carry on. I’ll watch,” I told them and took up residence on a low couch under the window, settling back a closing my eyes. Letting the sounds of my ladies mirth wash over me and trying to chase away the fear and nerves that had been set loose in my belly. I felt sick even though I hadn’t eaten anything for lunch. I knew I should distract myself, maybe go ride Syrax or seek out Lord Gerold but…

The couch was very comfy and I was very tired.

I awoke to an a worried Laena and an amused Laenor with no sign of my ladies. The cards abandoned on the table told me they’d likely fled in a giggly mess the moment Laenor had turned up and left Laena to deal with the detritus. I groaned and pulled myself upright.

“What time is it?” I asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Approaching sundown. I arranged for us to take our meal here,” Laenor answered and I could see his amusement was a front, he was as nervous as I was. No doubt his Father had told him what I wanted him for. My stomach exploded into butterflies once more as Laena glanced between us.

“You are well?” she asked finally. I tried not to show my surprise at the lack of surliness in her tone. She’d assumed I was taking Daemon up on his suggestion to earn Vhagar with my body, according to the all-knowing Joffrey.

“Your Father insists we revisit the issue of heirs,” I told her, rubbing my tired and stinging eyes. Spite momentarily welled within me. “I must earn his support on my back it seems.”

Laena directed a glare at me and I glared right back.

“You keep doing this! I will not be used again. Not even by you!” I got ready to argue right back but she held up her hand, taking a deep breath. “Rhaenyra, please… please stop with this? This is curiosity on your part. I look like Laenor. I am safe to experiment with. My interest… interests you in turn. But I am not… I just want to be comfortable with myself.”

“Why is it that you can have an exception but I can not?” I muttered, frustration boiling around inside of me and sounding more like a sulking child than I wanted. She gave her brother a look, who returned with one that said quite clearly he intended to stay out of whatever we had going on.

This was childish in the extreme. She’d made her position quite clear.

“Very well. I will not bring it up again. I am sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”


	46. Back to Normality - Chapter 42

I awoke in Laenor’s arms with my face pressed against his naked chest. It was so nice just to be held, and against Laenor to boot, that I managed to stop myself shuddering in revulsion at how gross I felt. Sweaty and… unpleasantly sticky.

By gods, I want to boil my own skin off now.

Laenor stirred as I started trying to wiggle out of his grip, pulling himself up right and groaning at the morning light. Then he glanced towards me with a look of wonder on his face that really was not warranted. He laid a warm hand over my stomach with a kind of reverence that made me want to slap him or embrace him.

“Do you think you might be pregnant already?” he asked quietly. I doubted it but I didn’t want to demoralise him so instead I managed a small smile and laid my own hand over his.

“I hope so but we must keep trying until it is confirmed.” He beamed at me.

“What a fine thing, to be a father,” he marveled, hand still in place. I fought the urge to yell at him and took a deep breath, edging out the cold of fear. “I never thought… I thought I would die childless. That Laena’s children would inherit. I know you do not want to have a child… I… Thank you.”

That last bit was said in such a small voice that I forgot my anger and fear and brought him close, burying my face in the mess his hair had become. We stayed like that for a while until there was a knock on the door, startling us from our thoughts.

“Your Grace, we have drawn your bath as you requested.” I sighed happily into Laenor’s shoulder and moved away, wincing as muscles I was unused to using protested.

“I will be out in a moment!” I called and I heard the sound of the maid bustling off. As I made my way to the corner and began sorting for something to wear Laenor snorted and flopped back into the pillows.  
“May ask you a question?” he said carefully as I retrieved a nightgown to hide my nakedness.

“Is it about Laena?” My voice was tight and he nodded, rearranging the covers around him. “What did you wish to ask?”

“Joffrey… Joffrey says you truly desire her.” I snorted.

“That’s not a question. Besides, she has made herself quite clear,” I replied, forcing a mild tone into my voice.

“I did not realise she… she thought me shameful,” he said quietly. I sighed and dropped next to him, running my hands through his hair. He blushed. “I also did not realise you truly desired me as a wife desires her husband.”

“You are very desirable,” I told him. His training regime was already doing wonders for him. He’d begun putting on muscle. He’d never been a martial man, not truly. He’d squired with his Uncle Lucerys to learn ships and sailing. Add in his dragon… he’d always had a hard time seeing why he should use the sword.

But the chance at wielding Dark Sister had lit something within him.

Not that he could use the blade yet, of course. The moment I was head of House Targaryen though, I would make sure he would have it then. For now it would remain safely hidden with the Lonmouths.

And if Viserys thought his new hold over me would compel me to reveal that he had another thing coming.

“But… but I lay with another man. I love another man. I can not… I can not please you?” he sounded anxious. I snorted.

“You are a very pretty man with a very fine mind. You please me well enough.” I left before the temptation to kiss him got too much. He would try, for my sake he would try, but it would make him uncomfortable in the extreme. I had no right to force that on him.

The bath was steaming in the early morning light and I sighed happily as I discarded the nightgown and clambered in. My momentary jealousy that Laenor got to head back to the land of sleep gone as I luxuriated in the warmth.

I lowered my head back and closed my eyes, mind beginning to wake up. Last night had been… not all that great. Humiliating jumped to mind. Embarrassing, frustrating and nerve wracking were also good descriptors. We’d tried to do it the natural way first but Laenor had struggled and in the end we’d resorted to using more artificial means to… ah, do the deed.

I clutched at the soap and the washcloth and scrubbed myself down with a shudder.

It felt like I was in some kind of dream, sometimes. Daemon’s flight… I had been so sure it would lead to something; war, assassination, the game of thrones in truth. Now here I was bathing in King’s Landing and no one was talking about it anymore. The bounty would go out and he would die and nothing would really change.

I finished up and met Marya and Alys who helped me dress and kept up an endless stream of chatter. In truth I was glad for it. I could barely keep my thoughts on track and in the present. Without their questions and gossip, my brain might have exited my head entirely. After that I was summoned by my dearest Father to break my fast with the rest of the family.

Because of course he would pick the day I was feeling as if I might shatter at the slightest touch.

Alicent and her brood minus Daeron were already there. I took care to wrap Helaena in a extra tight hug. She’d been devastated when she’d been handed back into Alicent’s company. Even more so when the Queen had tried to forbid her practise with the bow. Helaena had apparently thrown a fit so loud and so great that Viserys had overrode Alicent for the first time ever when it came to the children in order to let her continue.

Dragon Rages. Not even once.

Or maybe just spoiled princess rages as Helaena didn’t actually have a dragon yet. Like most Targaryen children they’d been given eggs in the cradle but none had hatched. It had been the subject of some court gossip but ultimately it had come to nothing as my own egg had never hatched either. Huh, I hadn’t thought about that in years… where did that get to?

If I remember rightly it had been a pale red, almost pink, shot through with a deeper red. Honestly, it’s probably a good idea I didn’t end up with that dragon. I wouldn’t have been able to resist calling it Rasberry Ripple and who would follow a dragon called Rasberry Ripple into battle? No… let me see… Meleys. The egg had been from Meleys’ last clutch when she was ridden by Princess Alyssa. Perhaps Rhaenys had it then?

“Are you listening to me, Rhaenyra?” Viserys question cut into my daydream about forcing everyone to take Rasberry Ripple very seriously lest they be set aflame. I flushed and mumbled an apology. “As I was saying. I have discussed this with Aegon and he has agreed so I am proud to tell you all he will be squiring for Lord Jason Lannister.”

Alicent looked especially smug as he smiled nervously at us all. His siblings were decidedly less so.  
“You can’t send him away!” shouted Helaena and Aemond at the same time. Although Helaena sent her father a desperate look and Aemond sent me a hateful look. Viserys looked startled.

“You’re only sending him away because Rhaenyra is here. You should send Rhaenyra away again and then Aegon can stay here!” Aemond said, small fists balled up in anger and glaring hatefully between Viserys and I.

“Aemond, my beloved, he is not going away because of Rhaenyra,” Alicent cooed, trying to draw him onto her lap.

“But I want him to stay here!” said Helaena desperately, small hands finding her Mother’s arm.

Whatever next level puppy dog eyes Helaena was deploying managed to get Alicent pause in genuine emotional pain and halt her attempts to restrain Aemond, who promptly pulled himself free and flung himself at me. He collided with my midsection and proceeded to pummel at my stomach and thighs. He was only five but some of those strikes really fucking hurt okay? Viserys hauled him away and the little boy broke down crying in his Father’s arms.

“I hate you!” he said, clutching at his Father’s black sleeves. I sent Viserys a stricken look because there was absolutely nothing I could do or say to that. Through it all Aegon had remained silent and still. Now his eyes were on me, wide with fear, as if he expected retribution to be swift.

I hated that. I did not wish to be to him as Daemon had been to me.

“But Aegon wants to stay here!” Helaena was wailing with no small amount of distress, completely drowning out Aemond’s furious sniffling.

“Are you happy with going to Casterly Rock?” I asked him when Viserys became distracted calming Helaena’s wailing. “If not I will petition Father on your behalf.”

He looked bewildered at the offer but shook his head.

“I don’t like it here. I want to go.” He said and my heart broke when he added before thinking about it. “People are mean to me.”

Unfortunately, Alicent and Viserys caught the end of his sulk. I saw her green eyes blaze into fury and flicker to me.

“Who?” I asked. “If it is any of mine, I’ll have their heads.”

And I was telling the truth. I’d been very clear that when it came to my Blacks; Aegon and the children were off-limits. Alicent and her idiot Father were fair game but my siblings were children and deserved a childhood. Alicent had robbed them all of that but I was damned if I was going to contribute. Aegon just shook his head violently.

“Other children. Aemond shouts at them.” Viserys glanced towards his second son with a pained expression.

“Do you know who these children are?” asked Alicent with the kind of malice that told me she wasn’t above fighting literal children when it came to her kids. I really hope none of those children are associated with me.

“I don’t know their names. I know what colours they wear though!” Aemond said brightly and with a worrying amount of vicious glee.

“Well, you shall tell me after we have broken our fast and we shall see how mean these children are when I have a word with their fathers.” Then she paused and eyed me with something close to grudging respect. “Apologise to your sister for striking her.”

“I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. Viserys opened his mouth to scold him and I interrupted.

“It is no issue, Aemond. Anyone would be upset when their brother is leaving.” Viserys shut his mouth and gave me a grateful look as Aemond was released back to his chair next to Aegon. “Regardless, I do hope you enjoy yourself at Casterly Rock. They say there are rooms there lined with gold.”

Rooms I will see once I’d produced a baby to barter with. Ugh, Westeros was gross. Food arrived and I decided on my usual chilled fruit. I’d picked up an especial fondness for pear somewhere. It was nice to see someone knew this as I noted more of the delicious fruit was present than usually warranted.

“And when you ride a dragon, travel will be ea-” Alicent glared at me and I paused, glancing towards Viserys, who was stuffing his face with food and not paying attention. I turned my attention back and raised an eyebrow in questioning.

“When will we get dragons?” demanded Aemond. Oh. Oh that is why she doesn’t want me mentioning the D-word. Ooops.

“Our eggs didn’t hatch,” came Aegon’s gloomy reply.

“Mine didn’t hatch either,” I told him. His eyes flicked up in surprise and I smiled at him. His usual fear was gone, replaced by an almost hesitant excitement. “I tamed Syrax at Dragonstone.”

“Oh indeed! I remember that day clearly, Daughter! I was beside myself with fear the entire time after we discovered you missing! Aemma threatened to have my head if you were harmed,” Viserys boomed between mouthfuls of bread and jam. “And then you pitched such a fit about leaving her in the Dragonpit. I remember you being very insistent that she remain outside of it.”

He reached over and poured himself some juice before guzzling an entire goblet at once. I watched in a morbid kind of horror as he belched. I could definitely see how the pounds were being piled on.

“You gave me an entire lecture on why you’d risked a wild dragon over a pit bred one.” I was about to reply that it had hardly gotten me anywhere when Aemond cut in, eyes bright with excitement.

“There are dragons at the pit now? Dragons we can have?” I saw pain flicker across Alicent’s features and made an intuitive guess as to how the siblings had become so misinformed about dragons.

They will claim them eventually, history tells me that. But perhaps… perhaps I can give Aegon one last good memory of me before he goes.

“If you will allow it, Father, I believe Aegon and Helaena are old enough to claim their own mounts. I can take them today, something to celebrate the news of Aegon’s squiring.” Viserys’ eyes lit up with happiness even as Alicent sent me a look of pure hate.


	47. Back to Normality - Chapter 43

“Why can’t I claim a dragon?” protested Aemond as we reached the Dragonpit. Around us, Alicent’s knights were dismounting and preparing themselves for the sweltering heat of the pit proper.

“Aemond, you are five. Your Mother was very insistent.” I told him. Nearby, Helaena was speaking to a terrified Aegon in fast and low tones and it was hard to tell which of them was the six year old and which was the eight. I smiled only to have it wiped from my face when Aemond’s shoe bounced off my shin.

“Helaena is only six!” he snarled. “I want a dragon!”

“Well, you aren’t getting one,” I replied in an airy tone. He went to kick my shin again but was promptly lifted into the air by Criston Cole, who’d finally seemed to notice the incoming temper tantrum.

“Enough, Aemond. Your Mother is the ultimate authority when it comes to you all,” I said as he tried to wiggle out of Cole’s grip. He stilled and glared, sulky expression drifting over his face. “You may come with us to see the dragons but you are forbidden from trying to tame on.”

“Yes, Sister.” There was a lot of venom there. Also he goes still when lying.

“Swear it on your honour as a Targaryen.” If I had thought his glare heated before… well, let’s just say I’m not his favourite sibling ever and leave it at that.

“I, Aemond Targaryen, do swear that I will only look at the dragons and not try and tame one.”

“Keep an eye on him, Cole. If Alicent will have my head should he get injured, I dread to think what she would do to you.” Cole looked as if he wanted to argue. Unfortunately, he knew I was right. So he put up and shut up. I gathered our party together and we entered. Helaena led Aegon over and chivvied him into taking one of my hands whilst she claimed the other. At first his grip was loose, as if he expected to want to run, but when the first of the dragon’s bellowing reached us it clamped tightly around my fingers.

I gave both hands a reassuring squeeze.

“Well met, Your Grace,” rumbled a large, bare-chested man. A few of the true dragon keepers, not the knights, gathered behind him.

“Well met, Franklyn. Might I introduce you to my beloved siblings. Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena and Prince Aemond.” Franklyn bowed low and a tad floridly than necessary as my siblings sounded off their greetings.

“Aegon, Helaena, Aemond. This man is responsible for the well-being of all the dragons in the Pit.” Franklyn gave me a grin and I returned it. He was not a man given to overly respectful displays or chasing after influence like a starving dog. He knew his business and he knew it well. A king and a peasant are the same to a dragon after all and spending so much time with the beasts tends to warp ones sense of view.

How could you bow to a man when you’ve seen what Franklyn had seen?

We followed him through the dragon pit. The air around us became hotter and the knights that had elected to follow us began looking extremely uncomfortable bar Criston Cole and Byren Hastwyck. Shame, it would have been nice to see them squirm a bit. Then my siblings stopped dead as they saw the dragons. My own Syrax was closest, coiled close to the scarlet Meleys and Laenor’s Seasmoke.

Interestingly, Vhagar was absent.

Of the other dragons I knew by name there was only Dreamfyre, the small and slender dragon of Rhaena Targaryen. I’d seen her only twice before and despite being the oldest dragon in the pit, she was amongst the smallest if one ignored the hatchlings. She was listless, sleepy and seemingly carrying the great tragedies her mistress had suffered around with her still. I disliked being near her. It made my heart hurt.

“Where is the big one?” asked Aemond, crashing into Aegon’s shoulders. I tugged them both back and tried not to think to hard about how Aemond lusted after Vhagar and why.

“Lady Laena is the greatest flyer of our generation. She is often astride Vhagar,” I told them and Aemond actually pouted.

“I think she’s right!” Aegon declared, letting go of my hand. “If you have a dragon you should ride it lots.”

Syrax moved her head to look at us as if to deny that outright. My dragon very much loved her naps and non-strenuous activities like swimming and setting fire to the innocent marine life of Blackwater Bay.

Don’t ask how. I’m pretty sure water shouldn’t burn like that as well.

Honestly, anti-pollution measures may need to be instituted once I get the Throne.

“You’ve got a few unclaimed hatchlings over there,” Franklyn told my two older siblings. I followed his pointed finger. Five young dragons coiled together and away from the larger, claimed dragons. Aegon scrambled forward to get a better look at them.

Please don’t be my future method of execution. That would really suck.

Helaena followed him, her eyes wondering over the claimed dragons though. Syrax generously allowed a few nose scritches as she passed. Meleys slumbered on as usual which honestly didn’t surprise me. That dragon had laziness levels that Syrax could only aspire too. Seasmoke stirred with interest but seemed to calm when he noted neither Meleys or Syrax had responded to any threat.

I followed the two at a distance, Franklyn at my side. Helaena paused and turned to look at Dreamfyre. She was a pretty dragon. A beautiful blue swirled over with silver. I’d once floated the idea of my Mother claiming her. After all, she fit Aemma’s colour scheme perfectly. Mother had laughed it off. She had considered herself an Arryn and was very firm on the idea she did not want a dragon despite her heritage giving her the right to try for one.

“The old woman,” chuckled Franklyn as he noticed Helaena’s interest. “Dreamfyre. A princess rode her once.”

“Do you know the story of Rhaena Targaryen?” I asked. Helaena turned her wide violet eyes to me and nodded solemnly.

“Lady Marya told me. She said one of her great aunts died of sickness serving Princess Rhaena.” That’s one way to put Samantha Stokeworth’s death. Well navigated, Marya. Gold stars all around.

“She died lonely, Lady Marya said. I don’t want to die alone.” What?

“Morbid thoughts. Where has this come from, little one?” I asked. My sister raised her eyes to me, looking pained and then she shrugged. I took her hands in mine and bent down to her level. She was chewing her her bottom lip in a way that told me she was exceptionally upset about something. Franklyn moved away to shadow Aegon and give us some privacy.

“I think it’s the worst thing in the world to die alone,” she whispered. Feeling very much like I only had half the story I prepared my best big sister speech I could give on the matter at short notice.

“Everyone dies alone, Helaena. We can’t take people or things with us when we go. We just need to live our lives as well as possible so that the Seven may judge us worthy,” I murmured. Helaena smiled and then brushed away a single tear.

“Thank you,” she said and turned her back on slumbering Dreamfyre and ran after her brother.

What had just happened? Perhaps this was something to mention to Alicent. If she had gotten dying alone from someone else… on second thought, I should probably investigate myself. There will already be hell to pay if it turns out my Blacks have been harassing Aegon via child proxy never mind if they’ve tried Helaena too. I stood up and rejoined Franklyn.

Aegon had the hatchlings now and was now reaching out to touch one. It was pale in the gloom, although when I truly examined it I could see it was actually the palest blue. The dragon was young, he would not be able to fly for a few more years yet. He wouldn’t be confined to the Dragonpit as Sunfyre presumably was in canon instead allowed to spend his formative years in Casterly Rock. Would this render him more deadly than the golden dragon? Aegon wouldn’t have the benefit of a dedicated instructor like I had in Lady Rhaenys…

What would this change?

Finally, the hatchling uncurled itself from the defensive ball it had assumed and sniffed curiously at him before making a high pitched sound that was crossed between a gargle and shriek and moving it’s head further into Aegon’s palm. I let out an explosive breath of relief.

“Behind the horns, Brother, the soft skin.” I called and his hand sought it out. A moment later he let out the strange gargling noise one more and stretched his neck out as far as it would go, eyes closed in pleasure. Aegon’s face lit up with a smile I rarely saw. Across from him, Helaena was approaching a mottled green hatchling that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the neck. It barely came up to her knee but I was well aware of what even a small dragon could do to an child. I tensed without meaning too.

But I needn’t have worried. This one did not even show the slightest hesitation as it curled forward, brushing up against her dresses.

“You did it Hela!” cheered Aegon, startling both the hatchlings. I chuckled, I couldn’t help it. Baby dragons were kind of dopey looking, even more so when startled.

“Now you need to name them,” I pointed out as Franklyn bustled off unobtrusively to inform the knights of my siblings success in claiming their dragons. They examined their dragons thoughtfully.

“Frost!” Aegon pronounced happily a moment later. I forced a smile onto my face. He was eight, I hadn’t exactly been expecting him to bust out the Valryian but still, Frost? Then again, his first dragon had been called Sunfyre.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful dragon.” He puffed up at the praise before he went back to staring at the hatchling. I chuckled at the look of awe on his face and turned to Helaena.

“You named Syrax for a Valyrian Goddess?” She asked eventually.

“Yes, I did.” Technically anyway. “Syrax, the valyrian Goddess of Victory.”

A painfully ironic name in retrospect. Then again, Rhaenyra had got her victory in the end. She’d died for it but Aegon’s line had ended with him. All future Targaryens were descended from her.

I examined the hatchling as it examined it’s new rider in turn. It wasn’t going to win any dragon beauty awards but I could tell that did not matter to Helaena. She ran her fingers across the dragons snout, eyebrows furrowed in thought before it cleared and she smiled to herself.

“Morghul,” she said finally. “I shall name her Morghul.”

In another time, a time that would not come to pass, a doomed daughter of Helaena Targaryen had named her own dragon that. And now I had the necessary knowledge to give context to such a name. Morghul, the Valyrian Goddess of Death. I shivered despite the heat but Helaena did not notice, too enraptured with her new dragon. I shook off the morbidity.

Helaena would not throw herself from a window, mad with grief, and should she ever birth a daughter, I would make sure she lived a long and happy life.

“Come, your brother will be excited to see your new dragons.” They followed obediently, comparing their dragons to the others in excited tones. When Aemond saw us he wriggled free of Cole and charged over. The three promptly folded into a small celebration of all things dragon. I stood to the side where both groups were visible. Cole’s expression was quite unreadable but I warrant there was some relief there. Had the Queen lost even one child today she would have him killed slowly as an opener to her rage.

“Can we show Mother and Father?” asked Helaena. I looked at the two hatchlings, each barely coming up to their new owners waists and tried to formulate a way to let them down gently.

“Perhaps…” I glanced towards Aegon, who blushed and then took a deep breath. “Perhaps you could take us on Syrax and the dragons could follow.”

That… that was pretty brave of him actually. I smiled and my smile was actually and honestly genuine as I nodded. Helaena cheered and even Aemond look thrilled at the prospect of a dragon ride. After all, only Helaena had ever ridden a dragon amongst the three and even then it was only once or twice on Syrax’s back. Syrax gave me a pained look at the thought of three excited children clambering all over her but she could suck it up. Being clambered on now may save her a fight in the future.

Franklyn was fast at saddling her at least even if I did require extra straps to stop anyone falling to their deaths. After they were all strapped in securely and Criston Cole had gotten over his third heart attack I urged Syrax forward. I took us up first, laying out all of King’s Landing below us. I could hear Aegon laughing pure delight and I couldn’t help but grin myself. Morghul and Frost followed and when Syrax let out bellowing roar they let loose their own, slightly less impressive, echoes.

I twirled my siblings around the city a few times before landing in the courtyard of the Red Keep, near the crowd that had assembled by a visibly pacing figure I could only assume was Alicent and the waving blob I was labelling Viserys. Syrax landed gracefully, something I was glad for. I was less glad when Aegon immediately tried to hurl himself from the saddle in excitement whilst still being chained to me. Still, I got them free eventually. I suspect Alicent was too relieved to see all her children alive and not on fire to summon the will to be angry at the unsanctioned dragon ride.

“Father! I do believe Helaena and Aegon have something to show you!” I called as I freed Aemond and handed him to his Mother. Frost and Morghul landed and the crowd that had formed oohed and aahed in appreciation. Viserys’ split into a wide grin at the sight and Alicent even managed a small smile, looking faint with relief.

Your children are dragons, I thought at her as she met my eyes, now see the proof.


	48. Back to Normality - Chapter 44

Frost and Morghul were the talk of the Red Keep over the next few days and my siblings soaked up the attention like flowers facing the sun. The only worrying note was Aemond loudly telling his Mother he hadn’t wanted a dragon from the pit anyway because they were small and he wanted a big one like Vhagar. The way his eyes lit up when he said that name sent chills down my spine.

The urge to get Laena her own dedicated team of bodyguards is rising. Not that she’d consider curbing her own flying habits. Apparently, she’d decided to begin a secret project of her own, hence the trips she’d been taking to and from Dragonstone.

And speaking of my erstwhile Velaryon allies…

“Are you sure about Alicent’s plan for Helaena and Aegon?” asked Corlys. I’d retreated to the Velaryon manse after the preparations for Aegon’s going away feast had become too tiresome and Alicent too overbearing. At least Rhaenys had stopped looking at me like I was personally responsible for both her children’s proclivities. With the way she had been acting, anyone would think she thought it a communicable disease and she the next in line to catch it.

At least Laena hadn’t told her of my desire in turn.

“I’m pretty sure. She may be uncomfortable around dragons at the moment but she worships the ground Jaehaerys once walked on. She’ll want the associations with him and Alysanne for Helaena and Aegon,” I told the assembled group.

“I understand why you believe this, Rhaenyra, but you have… hmmm, subverted Helaena. Will she risk giving Aegon a disloyal Queen?” Joffrey asked. Damn, that was a good point. The young Stormlander had his leg stretched out in front of the fire. Laenor was massaging it, flinching every time Joffrey grimaced in pain.

“This squiring business sounds like code for introducing the young couple and seeing if a match can be made,” Rhaenys said, eyes on the beautiful myrish rug Corlys had decorated the room with. Her husband nodded along with her in agreement.

“And the Lannisters are rich. It gives her the advantage when it comes to bribes now,” grunted Corlys after quiet reflection. “With her allies in the West, she has literal gold mine to bring to bear.”

I chewed my lip. Had I butterflied the marriage away or was this a play by Alicent? Make me focus on the Lannisters and try… try to what?

“Speaking of deep pockets,” Corlys continued. “What in the seven hells are you two spending twenty thousand dragons on at Dragonstone!? Gold statues of yourselves!?”

I winced. That was a lot of money and that was just the Velaryon contribution. Corlys had become increasingly overbearing about money recently. Viserys’ grant to rebuild Spicetown may have ensured the town would be rebuilt but he was losing a king’s ransom in gold in the meantime.

My defence came from a very surprising corner.

“Father, I’ve seen what the Wisdoms are working on. Techniques for more food and they are close to making clear glass reliably,” Laena said. Corlys raised an eyebrow at her and she flushed. “And also the new midwives and Maester Gerardys says he has a secret project in the works that will change how everyone diagnoses illness in Westeros!”

“Midwives are for the smallfolk,” Rhaenys cut in. She wasn’t taking Joffrey’s, actually my, insistence that Laena employ one very well but Laena’s midwife had forgotten more about delivering babies safely than most Maesters had ever known in the first place. And she came equipped with forceps, the ability to read and write and Gerardys’ lessons in biology and emergency care.

Try and die on her watch, Laena, it isn’t happening.

“These aren’t some hedge witches selling potions for a copper at the village market,” I said, tartly. “They’re trained by my own Maester Gerardys to the standards of any Maester. They have the latest techniques and technologies. Plus, they have experience, something most Maester’s lack.”

“And what’s the point in having them? The smallfolk love you since you’ve unleashed them on Dragonstone, Driftmark and King’s Landing but I hardly see the Lords of the Kingdoms clamouring for their services when they all pay for their perfectly sufficient Maesters,” Rhaenys snorted.

“Well after the Heir to the Iron Throne and her beloved Goodsister employs their services I’m sure more than few Lords will be interested,” I said. “And from then on it’s a simple matter of watching the Lords connect the dots as to who has the more living wives and children.”

“And these new midwives will be trained at Dragonstone, bought from Dragonstone and loyal to Dragonstone, I suppose,” asked Rhaenys, accepting a glass of wine from Corlys. I shrugged, she already knew the answer. “Well, if they keep my girl well with these constant visits like the one today, I’ll grant they might be useful.”

“I trust you can justify the other experiments. Glass for instance? You’ll hardly beat the Myrish.” Before I could answer Corlys, Laenor spoke up.

“We don’t need to. We just need it to do the job it needs to and the much lower price we can sell for will do the rest. We’re closer to the Westerosi and Braavosi markets,” he enthused. “And Rhaenyra has agreed to set up the initial Glassworks on Driftmark under Velaryon control!”

“That is very kind of you, Your Grace,” said Corlys, struggling to keep the look of greedy glee of his face as he mentally counted the likely profits.

“Wait until you hear about the seawe-” A knock at the door spared Corlys the lecture his son was about begin and a young maid stepped inside, curtsying low.

“My Lords, there is a lady called Alannys asking to see Lady Laena.” Laena sat up straight at that and dropped a hand to the swell of her stomach.

“Yes, yes. Show her to my rooms, I will join her in a moment.” I watched as she stood up before deciding to be spontaneous. Laena blinked in surprise as I stood to follow her.

“You do not mind? I am… Laenor and I have begun trying,” I explained, ignoring how Rhaenys’ face lit up and Corlys looked so self-satisfied I wanted to slap him on principal.

“Oh… I suppose?” Was it weird? I bet she thought I was being weird. “Yes, very well.”

Alannys was an older woman, tall and spare with red hair fading towards grey. I liked her, she had a naturally friendly face lined with evidence of a life spent laughing. I suppose putting women at ease was a good skill to have her line of work. I was ushered into a corner whilst Alannys helped Laena into a white gown for ease of access but also to cover her modesty.

Although I did catch sight of her uncovered stomach, a dark line disappearing into her small clothes and angry red stretch marks across her pale skin. Even pregnant the sight set my heart racing and I had to remind myself not to be a complete creep.

Then she was covered and laid back on the bed and I got to see my first antenatal exam in Westeros. Designed by Gerardys and his coterie of midwives using techniques I’d introduced. You know, despite his protests to the contrary, I think he’s fond of the group of women he’d gathered.

“Have you been eating the recommended foods?” Alannys asked as her hands brushed over the swell of Laena’s belly. I could just make out her her nodding, silver hair brushing over the white pillows. “That’s the leafy dark vegetables, fish and eggs, Your Grace.”

“Is there any chance of twins?” I asked, after a few moments of watching Alannys poke and prod. The woman glanced up with a raised eyebrow at the randomness of the question before meeting Laena’s eyes.

“I doubt it. She would have shown far earlier and been a lot bigger,” Alannys mused. “Do you have a family history of twins?”

“Well, we’ve had a few. Not recently,” Laena replied, looking unaccountably relieved. Damn, I had hoped for Baela and Rhaena, second and third best Targaryens after Rhaenys in the original timeline and I will physically fight anyone who says otherwise.

“How is the baby moving?” she asked as she moved across to the bag she had bought out one of Gerardys’ prized stethoscopes. With care, and ignoring Laena’s startled squeak at the cold, she laid it against the bump and listened intently before humming in thought.

“He is… excitable.” Laena’s hands clenched in the sheets and I tried not to smile at her wording. By all accounts her baby was quite the active one. Not that I’d ever felt the babe move. Laena had never invited me to and it seemed like the height of folly to push the point.

I tried to not to feel hurt, to take offence, but it was hard.

“That is good. Your babe was slow to quicken, strong movements now are a good sign.” Alannys told us, moving away to return the stethoscope to it’s place in the bag. “Although it is hard to hear his heart beat today.”

“If he is already uncooperative I dread to see his teenage years,” I told her with a strained chuckle and she just sighed. Alannys returned and tapped at her legs slightly before giving me a meaningful look.

“I need to do a pelvic examination?” Oh! I certainly did need to be present for that! I went to rise but Laena stopped me, surprisingly.

“Stay! I was hoping we could walk in the gardens afterwards.” I gave in to those pleading violet eyes and took the outstretched hand, feeling like fourteen year old Rhaenyra again.

“I must admit I don’t normally have an audience,” Alannys said as Laena raised her legs. The gown preserved her modesty well enough, all I could see was the silhouette of her knees.

“I am trying for a child myself. I wanted to see what Gerardys had come up with first hand.” She chuckled at that.

“Well, I wish you all the luck, Your Grace. We midwives know who we have the backing of and any one of us would be honoured to assist with your pregnancy.” That was strangely touching. Wrong choice of words considering where she currently had her hands, maybe.

Laena jumped and let out a hiss of discomfort. Her hand tightened it’s grip on mine as she jumped again. Then she screwed her eyes shut tightly and set her mouth into a grimace, whole body tense. Her hand tightened on mine almost painfully and I gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Please keep breathing, my Lady. You’ll make it harder if you tense up.” I rubbed my thumb in soothing circles across her hand as Laena began breathing again, breath hitching every so often. “Nearly over, my Lady.”

“Thank the Seven,” she mumbled and then squeaked in surprise at something as Alannys finished up.

“Excellent, my Lady. Certainly no problems there.” Alannys departed with little fanfare after that and a few more basic questions about Laena’s diet. I found I very much appreciated her bedside manner as well as her friendly demeanor. No nonsense but not a complete arse about it. I made a mental note to ask Joffrey to assign her to me if Laenor and I’s adventures in DIY IVF ever got off the ground.

Oh gods, I can’t even decide if I really hope it does or doesn’t.

After she had gotten dressed and cleaned up, I followed her to the garden of the manse. We walked for a while, side by side in silence.

“How are your attempts with my brother going?” she asked quietly, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.  
“Well. Fine.” She pursed her lips then. “They are certainly happening.”

“You do not sound happy,” she pointed out, resting a hand on her own stomach. “I had thought… I had thought you waited because of Laenor.”

The strangled, high-pitched and hastily cut off laugh she received from me in turn earned me a very odd look.

“No. No, I very much did not. I… I am afraid,” I admitted. “I do not want to be some broodmare, spitting out children on command. I do not want to ruin my looks, my health. It will hurt, I could die.”

“Oh,” she said, staring determinedly at a bright flower. “I did not know. I am sorry.”

“Think nothing of it. I hardly went around telling people.” More awkward silence as we took our seats on a bench and watched a bee make it’s way through the flowers. It was still warm in King’s Landing. Mellos said that Autumn was coming according to the Maesters but I could see why southerners didn’t much fear the seasons.

“I can resign as your lady, if you wish,” Laena said finally, eyes still on the bee. I stared at her in horror.

“Why? If I have made you uncom-” She cut me off as she turned to look at me, eyebrow raised. I flushed.

“We have been distant. Very distant. I thought… I thought perhaps you would happier with my child and I further away?” My eyes flickered to her enlarged stomach, her hand resting over it protectively. Did she think me a monster? One who would kill a child for the sins of it’s father?

“Your child has nothing to fear from me,” I said, tone frosty. She was still tense though, still watching me as if I might lash out.

“You have never been rational when confronted with evidence of that man,” she pointed out, her tone made of steel.

“He is not just a child of ‘that man’. He is yours and Joffrey’s,” I began, she opened her mouth to respond but I kept going. “That man will have nothing to do with the child and I am offended… offended you think that I would harm a child for his Father’s sins! What do you think I am? Completely bereft of morality!? You accuse me of being a whore and a kinslayer… what next!?”

She closed her mouth as I finished, looking taken back.

“I… I did not mean it that way,” she finally said. I scowled at her careful tone, like she was the one walking on eggshells and I the one exploding for no good reason. “I merely meant-”

“That I am petty, vain, arrogant, proud and angry.” She winced and I rose to my feet. “Resign if you want! I would not wish to bind you in service when you so obviously do not wish to be here.”

She caught my hand.

“Wait, damn your temper! Wait!” I stopped and looked back as she struggled from the seat. “I did not mean any of this! I just did not wish for you to be uncomfortable! We were friends once Rhaenyra, I want to be again. I care for you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I mumbled as she took my other hand. She snorted.

“I did not mean to imply you were a… a whore or a kinslayer. I did not. And I lo- I came to like you knowing your faults, Rhaenyra.” She brought my hands up and laid them across her stomach. Beneath her skin my cousin, and wasn't that a strange thought, kicked away. “Let us be close again. I miss my friend.”

“Alright… alright. Friends.”


	49. Back to Normality - Chapter 45

Aegon had changed since he’d tamed Frost and the change was so radical it was obvious. Instead of sulking and cowering he beamed in pride as Lord after Lord came before the high table to congratulate him on taming his dragon and on his squiring with the Lannisters. It was amusing to watch Alicent preen over how ‘regal’ her son was being only to remember that it was due to my actions and upset herself five minutes later.

She’d been even more upset to learn none of my Blacks had children amongst the little terrors that had been picking on my dearest younger brother. Mostly War Hawks, a few Doves and most surprisingly a Green Lord who was currently on his way home. Honestly, if Aegon were not already promised to Casterly Rock, she would have to send him away after that. The optics of her chosen candidate hiding in his Mother’s skirts whilst she unleashed hell on mere children were damaging the Green cause more than anything I could do.

Still, he was going away. He would be gone from court for many years until he was knighted. We’d be lucky to see him here in King’s Landing once or twice a year when something especially grand happened or whichever Lannister he was given too came by for business. I was startled to find myself worrying about him. It was hard to resent him when he thanked me for the fifth time for helping him get Frost, or showed such outward love for the gifts I’d gotten him that one would be forgiven for thinking they were the only gift he’d received.

Apparently, he really, really liked the various materials on dragons I’d forced Laena to hand over. Honestly, I had no clue why she had brought those to King’s Landing but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Despite all the progress I’d made with Aegon, it was still galling to see Alicent’s Greens returning to prominence as Viserys grew lax in his annoyance. I do not know what took place between them after I was sent away but with my return it had healed. Or perhaps he assumed that with Aegon’s fostering the Green presence would naturally die away as their chosen candidate was no longer within the city. That his taking his family in hand would end the two factions sooner rather than later.

Or maybe I was just grouchy. Lord Gerold was leaving and given I had annoyed Jeyne recently, I had no clue who’d she’d send to take his place.

“You seem discomfited, Rhaenyra,” came Alicent’s false concern and I gritted my teeth before directing I smile her way.

“Merely thinking, my Queen.”

“Hm, a habit you still haven’t broken I see,” she said, pleasant smile at odds with her disapproving tone. I became aware of a lot of eyes on us and plastered my own smile into place.

“Whatever do you mean by that? Thinking?” I asked and she snorted, taking a sip of her drink.

“No. The habit of going off into your own head. You spent Queen Aemma’s entire lecture after your taming of Syrax looking as you were somewhere else entirely.” I honestly had not expected her to remember that. It had been twelve years ago after all. “And you barely acknowledged the Prince’s praise.”

Ouch. Still bitter.

“I think we’ve established what Daemon's praise is worth by now,” Still no one had claimed his bounty. I think we had all expected every rogue on the island to turn on him the instant it was announced but it had only been a week. There was plenty of time for a knife to find his heart or guts yet. She snorted and then rose.

“Join me for a walk in the courtyard?” The eyes of the court, and Viserys, were on our backs we left. Criston went to follow but a small wave from Alicent saw him fall back. Ha, I hope Viserys had seen that. It would get him thinking even further about where Cole’s loyalty's were. When we were outside in the nights air and we both had assured ourselves of privacy she turned to me with a look of rage.

“Why is the whore not dead yet?” she growled and I didn’t need to a mind reader to know who she was referring too.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean?” That did not mean I was going to play ball and throw Laena under the proverbial bus. Alicent would eat her alive. She snarled and then turned away, pacing back and forth.

“You can not fool me as easily as you can fool Viserys. The babe is his, I know it and you know it. Now why is the whore and the bastard still alive!?” she all but shouted into the night. So Viserys had not told her. My begging must have worked. Then again he was hardly going to hand his stick to Alicent now he’d finally found it. I took a deep breath to reply but she wasn’t done. “We had an agreement, Rhaenyra. Why have you not secured your Father’s agreement to burn those islands!?”

“Because to do so is suicide! You think if four dragons turned up to fight him I wouldn’t be his first target? And Laena carries Joffrey’s babe, not Daemon’s. Even Viserys knows that!” I spat.

“You always say you will aid me in fighting him and you always betray me!” she hissed right back. I knew what she was on about before she’d reached the end of her sentence.

“You and I both know Viserys wanted that betrothal, that it was always going to happen. You saw an excuse and took it,” I replied, trying to keep my voice low. Alicent stared at me. “Do you think that I would still call Laena a friend, still protect her, if she knew he’d maimed me and bedded him anyway?”

Technically true is the best kind of true, remember? The question took the wind out of Alicent’s sails and she actually seemed to be thinking that over.

“I do not trust her. I do not trust him around pretty young women.” Annoying but expected. Alicent had been very in love with Daemon, once upon a time. She’d have sacrificed her chance at having Viserys for a chance at Daemon. He’d first met her when she’d been thirteen, the new Hand’s daughter, fresh to court. He’d watched her grow, flirted and seduced her and then finally bedded her just two years later.

It was disgusting. I’d whined and wheedled and generally been a little shit but Alicent had been in love, she certainly wasn’t going to listen to a six year olds opinion. It had taken a year to go bad but the first signs of problems came almost immediately after Daemon left his first post as Master of Coin. Then he’d left his post as Master of Laws. Both resignations because he was bored.

Viserys had given him Commander of the Guard then and he had forged his Gold Cloaks. I would have to purge them in time because the Gold Cloaks had been made in Daemon’s image. They were greedy, corrupt and hedonistic. Canon knowledge tells me they’ll never improve and canon knowledge tells me that if he snaps his fingers, half of them will likely run to his side.

I can not afford that if I ever do have to strike at him.

Daemon’s drinking and whoring and association with ‘Lady’ Mysaria had gotten back to her eventually. She’d done what any spoiled child would do when threatened by a woman they have power over. She’d sent her Father’s men to kill her. Their corpses had been delivered to the Red Keep the next morning, a grim tableau of stab wounds and desecration. Daemon had mocked Otto in open court for it and his relationship with the Hand’s daughter had ended there and then.

And now… now he had given her every reason she ever needed to carry out her revenge. As angry as Corlys was, I would warrant Alicent had still managed to send more assassins than him.

“Alicent, the child is Joffrey’s. I care little as to your opinion on him though. I am returning to the feast before Father sends a search party.”

“Wait!” I paused and glanced back. I watched as she worked her jaw in a fury before giving in to whatever argument she’d been having in her head. “I did not thank you for helping the children. Aegon and Helaena are much happier. Aegon is… improved and Helaena does not seem to have as many nightmares now.”

“Did you ever find out what she dreamed about? She would not tell me.” It was curiosity that drove me to ask rather than concern.

“She would not tell me either. She told Aegon she dreamed of fire and dragons warring though.” I felt my stomach drop and it was sheer practice that kept my smile in place as we made our way back inside. Alicent made her way back to Viserys’ side and dropped a small kiss to his temple as she sat down. I made my way back to my seat beside Laenor and dropped into it, feeling like the queen of all idiots.

Dragon dreams. Did the Targaryens not see themselves as dragons in their dreams?

I glanced around the room, eyes seeking Helaena. She was at Aegon’s side and happily chatting away to him and his gaggle of friends. As if feeling my gaze she looked up and met my eyes, smile brightening before noticing my aghast expression. Then she looked downcast and wriggled her way free of the press of children to approach me. She was almost hesitant and afraid so I did the first thing that came to mind.

I opened my arms for a hug and she hit my shoulder a few moments later, clutching at the shawl I was wearing with a fierce grip. I ran my hand through her hair and rocked her back and forth.

“Why did you did not tell me?” I murmured.

“It hurts. If I tell people they change things and it hurts,” she whispered back and I could feel her tears on my bare shoulders. Next to me, clearly able to hear us, Laenor looked startled before forcing an indulgent look onto his face, as if this were nothing more than normal sisterly bonding.

I love that man sometimes.

“Please don’t ask. Please. It hurts and it makes them worse.”

“You told Aegon something, didn’t you? Can you tell me what you told him?” she tensed and drew back, mouth set into an unhappy curl.

“Two dragons, Black and Green, and they fought. And everything burned. They both died and turned to stone and afterward… afterward all the dragons turned to stone.”

“And he thought that was…” She nodded, miserably.

“He said Mother had already told him you would kill him. That my dream just made it real. He was so scared and afterward the dreams changed. And they hurt.” I pulled her close again. Laenor gave me an aghast look but clearly did not know what to say. He’d thought me to have Dragon Dreams once upon a time. I suspect learning a child of Viserys’ truly did have them…

My eyes met his again.

“Nobody can learn of this. Not even Joffrey,” I said in a low voice. He looked like he wanted to argue but then cast another glance at Helaena and then his face softened. Joffrey would want to use her and Helaena was eager enough to please... I did not want to hurt her for garbled look into the future.

“You have my word.” She extracted herself from my shoulder and wiped at her eyes. I noted Viserys’ gaze and shrugged at him. He looked unhappy but left me too it. Likely he just attributed it to a childish argument and Helaena running to her bid sister for comfort.

“Is this where all the talk of dying alone came from?” I asked in a low tone. She nodded.

“I used to see my death… I was so alone. I was older and I had children but they died. And Aegon was dead. And you were. Mother wanted to crown me instead of your daughter. I didn’t want to betray you. You’re the only one who never turns on me,” she whispered and my heart hurt for a child forced to see her own death.

Not her canon death though. This sounded far, far worse.

“I took poison.” Laenor gave me an aggrieved look. One I returned easily. No child should have to see that, to know that.

“It’s okay though. I stopped it. It hurt but I stopped it.” She raised her eyes to me and I wanted to hold her again. They shone in determination I’d rarely seen from anyone before. “I chose Morghul. Not Dreamfyre. I have Dreamfyre in those dreams. If I have Morghul, they can’t come true.”

“Seven hells,” breathed Laenor, looking as if he could go punch a dream he absolutely would. Maybe it was because we both had babies on the brain but… well, we were feeling protective. I worried at my lip. Had Helaena known in canon? Had… had that girl walked on through her life eating to numb the pain of what she knew was coming?

Helaena curled closer to me, pressing her face into my shoulder and brought my arms around her once more.

I only realised was weeping when Laenor brushed the tears away with a sad smile.


	50. Back to Normality - Chapter 46

I woke that night whilst the moon was still high in the sky to cramps and blood. It set me weeping in loss, even though I had no clue why. I hadn’t wanted a baby, I still didn’t want a baby.

Why was I so upset that it hadn’t succeeded? Why did I worry I might never succeed?

If people could do it by accident, why couldn’t I do it on purpose?

Laenor and I laid together in bed for a long time afterward. He held me close as I sobbed into his chest and murmured reassurances into my ear. I could tell he was unhappy too. He had been so full of hope. He wanted a child. Now that the possibility had been placed before him, one of his own, he wanted them desperately. He’d brought that damn sword with him to King’s Landing. The wooden one we’d played with as children, ready to bequeath it to firstborn whether that be daughter or son. He’d whispered as such into my ear as we’d worked to create one. I don’t think he’d dared hope until that first night. I think he still thought there a trick somewhere.

He understood though. He told me that it did not matter, that we had so much time. So why did I feel like failure? Why did I feel like I wasn’t enough? Why am I crying when I don’t want this!?

A knock on the door broke us out of our despair some time in the mid-morning and before I could give into the urge to scream at whoever it was to leave, the door was opened and Laena slipped in. I wanted to cry again at the reminder her swollen belly gave me but instead settled for burrowing into the pillows and trying to control my tears. Laenor’s hand rested on my back as he addressed his sister’s concerns about the fact neither of us had risen yet.

“We… she began her monthly bleedings.”

“Oh! I see. Um… would you like me to tell Sera we aren’t needed?” Staying in bed all day was a bad idea, so I raised my head and sighed heavily in defeat. To stay and weep in loss would see me facing more rumours than I could shake a stick at. Too emotional to rule, too weepy to rule…

I couldn’t handle Sera at the moment though. I just couldn’t. She would joke and try to cheer me and I did not want to be cheered. In truth I did even want the constant reminder of Laena but at she would be silent about the matter.

“Tell Sera to leave. Do not tell her why. I’ll probably need your help to get my bloody dress on.”m Exceptionally poor choice of words there me, well done. My internal voice was bitter and mocking and I hated how dramatic I was being about it all, hated that it hurt this much.

“On my own?” At my look of annoyance that I threw over my shoulder she just frowned. “Very well, I’ll attend to Her Grace most diligently. As long as she doesn’t mind looking like she was dragged through a hedge backwards.”

I charitably ignored that and clambered free of the bed as Laenor did the same opposite me. He began throwing on his clothes in such a haphazard manner that I wanted to wince and go and correct them. Which wouldn’t do much good. He had grooms that would help him dress into fresh clothes when he reached his own rooms and the so called ‘walk of shame’ was anything but.

Once I’d gotten through the ordeal of dressing with Laena and her miraculous ability to tie her own fingers together whilst lacing dresses, I retrieved my correspondence and settled down to read through it. Jeyne was still adamantly ignoring all mentions of marriage, simply acting as if I had not mentioned it at all. I could read the annoyance in her other words though. The way she refused to tell me who she was sending to King’s Landing in Lord Gerold’s stead and the way she threw Jessamyn’s name into every available sentence she could. That and she was sending Maris back, apparently.

Maybe I should have Falena search her for Arryn-sponsored knives.

Dragonstone spoke of the increased excitement for the crops and the prototype seaweed farms using ropes and small scale flooding. It was grounding. I found myself growing invested once again, mind moving from pregnancy and the lack of it as I read about the seaweed farms. Jerrett loved his job and often went into vast amounts of detail when a breakthrough was made.

Sadly, they still hadn’t discovered the true nature of ‘the purple crystals’. I made a mental note for Joffrey to find a sufficiently tractable Wisdom to give them a shove in the right direction. Iodine and Penicillin… well, it would certainly revolutionise Westerosi medicine. I made another mental note to see if the Maester Gerardys had seen any look in locating some of those old First Men ointment recipes.

Still, the letters only took up part of my day and I was soon sat behind my desk with little to do for my day-to-day tasks. I did not want to go to court, to feel small under all of their stares today. So I decided to look into a matter I’d been playing with ideas for since I’d set my heart on the Throne.

Symbols.

Curious things. In Westeros, of course, they were sacrosanct. So much so that the Targaryens taking their own House colours and words brought many who otherwise would have resisted to their banner to their side during the Conquest. The idea of the dragons had kept the Targaryens in power long after they’d died out through it’s sheer legend and mystery.

It had kept the Starks in power in the face of the Red Kings and it kept ensuring said Red Kings would return until their or the Stark line was ended. It was what gave the Gardners so much control over the Reach and ensured the Tyrells would be centuries out on achieving such control, if they ever could. Lack of a decent symbol was the reason the Tully’s barely held the Riverlands everytime there was a war and why Artys Arryn had associated himself with a First Man hero despite being very very proud of his Andal heritage.

I needed to capitalise on that. Create my own version of England’s St. George so to speak. Which meant a trip to the Red Keep’s impressive library to research myths and legends. I could use Aegon to be fair. Or even Rhaenys. Visenya if I was feeling cheeky. Hell, Jaehaerys was a contender despite being King in living memory but they were Targaryen. I wanted something more in line with the Winged Knight.

Something that was here before us that we could point to. Let no one try and convince you I just wanted to read about myths and legends George hadn’t gotten round to putting to paper because it would be a filthy lie, any reports that I spent a good few hours absorbed in dusty books written by Maesters long dead about legends completely unhelpful to my cause are completely unfounded.  
The unfortunate truth was all that I could fine regarding dragons, knights and anything helpful was Serwyn of the Mirror Shield. The man who’d slain the dragon Urrax, so subtly named for the Valyrian God of Destruction. I returned the last book that promised to hold anything helpful to one of Mellos’ helpers and went wondering about the shelves. In Runciter’s time this had been his ultimate domain and I’d quite frequently gotten myself banned.

Never for long on Queen Aemma’s watch, she had delighted in our shared love of books.

Now Mellos was in charge he was a lot less careful about what went where. If Runciter were not already dead, he’d have a heart attack at the dust and haphazard stacking of the books with complete disregard to the system he had painstakingly mapped out over the years he’d spent as Grand Maester. I hadn’t read for the sheer joy of it since before I’d discovered my Black Powder did not work.

Perhaps I should go back to doing so. Perhaps I should follow Aemma Arryn’s example and read to my children every night.

No. Can’t think about that.

I followed the shelves round to the section on geography, listlessly flicking through a treatises on Ghiscar, the Dothraki and Braavos. None of which should be next one another on the shelf. There were even a few books about Yi-ti, I noted. Laenor might enjoy them. Perhaps they might even have something new in them that he had not known before. It was adorable how he lit up when the topic was mentioned. Almost like he lit up when High Tide was mentioned. Or ‘The Book’. When he stepped away from his mask as the perfect Prince-Consort and became just Laenor, absolute dork.

He’d make a good dad. Better than Viserys and Corlys combined.

Damn it brain!

I scooped up a fair few and made my way towards the exit with my prizes only to run head first nearly into Lord Jasper Wylde. He bowed politely but it was clear he’d rather not be here or acknowledging I held any kind of power over him as the heir.

“My Lord, how does the day find you?” I asked from behind my stack, summoning a pleasant smile.  
“Well enough, your Grace. I am hard at work on the Harlsbury case for your Father,” he said, eyes flickering towards the books as if praying for an escape. The Harlsbury case was an annoyance I could do without. It all came down to wills and how much power they should have.

I knew Alicent was behind this getting shunted up to Viserys. By all rights the Tully’s should have made a ruling. Even Daemon’s ongoing inability to die wouldn’t stop her capitalising on things.

“Truly a complicated case. I do not envy your search, my Lord.” He pursed his lips.

“Well some tasks are more complicated than others. I still believe it should be the nephew’s truthfully.” Not the bastard daughter whom Harlsbury had trained to be his heir.

“And the will of late Ser Harlsbury counts for nothing? Even though the nephew is a drunkard and a wastrel?” Jasper scowled at that.

“I believe the law should be followed in regards to all such cases.” Bold. Very bold. Let’s do this.

“Which law would that be? Andal Law? You and I both know that Andal Law is not the only law, even if it were a well-defined system. There is that of the First Men to start, that one is even more ill-defined.” When Jasper hesitated I decided to bait him further. “And, of course, there is the Iron Throne.”

“The law regarding the Iron Throne is, of course, different to that of the accepted Andal succession law,” he said slowly, stressing the word accepted. It must frustrate him that for all succession was supposed to be clear there were so many incidents of it not being that it was no small surprise Renly had gone for the Throne in canon. It was a mess. A mess I would have to deal with as Queen.

Regarding the Iron Throne though, my side argued that the succession law was that of the nominated heir regardless of gender and the Green’s argued it was a male-only title following primogeniture. Both arguments have some grounding in precedent. Mine in Valyrian law in which each house had a Designated Heir that was nominated by the current Head of House.

This Heir could be any male or female member that bore the family name and possessed a dragon. Even the tiny amount of literature Aenar had managed to bring over with him is littered with female Heads of House, men choosing their brothers or an especially talented cousin.

So it’s simple, right? Surely we can just take that concept and copy and paste it across to Westeros. Well, actually no.

Because the Lords Freeholder didn’t actually own land in the way Westerosi lords did, they didn’t have vassals in the way Westerosi lords did and most importantly there were forty families of the Lords Freeholder. Each of which had their own dragons and each of which had a vested interest in preventing open rebellion from non heirs in other families.

There were also the Valyrian concepts of disinheritance, elected governance, cadet branches, academia, religion and legitimisation which massively differ to how Westerosi understand those concepts.Okay, I thoroughly admit I’m getting off track here.

The point is, the Valyrian inheritance system is always going to be a bitch to get working in Westeros. It will need adjusting and tweaking but it’s a good foundation and miles better than me dying in dragon flame.

Their chosen form of succession, on the other hand, had it’s roots in First Man law. Not that a whole bunch of those very, very Andal lords wanted to admit it. Instead they argued that the Council of 101 had set a precedent to bar female inheritors. Which unfortunately for them danced very, very close to treason by insisting that a King could not set his own laws if a group of Lords had already a made decision.

There’s also another very good reason that they probably don’t want to admit it’s First Man law and that’s because the woman who ‘loses out’ on inheriting is supposed to be looked after by the male it favoured. With some of the examples in the past this mostly works out to marriage i.e. Baelon technically should have married Rhaenys which would have been possible because under First Man law a female claimant wouldn’t be married until after it had passed to the male claimant. First Men were smart about their marriages and keeping their claims together, I'll give them that.

I hate law. I just hate it. It’s a mess of customs and common law and whilst Jaehaerys may have decreed it be the same everywhere he’d hardly put the work into getting rid of some of the more extraneous and complicated bits.

Regardless, the whole thing was a mess and someone as clever as Jasper Wylde knew that well. Baiting him so was purely for fun though, I knew damn well I had no hope in all Seven Hells of bringing him to my side.

“Well, that is a matter for the King,” I said, waving my hand and sending up a wave of dust.

“Indeed. We all await the day that King Viserys makes a ruling on the actual laws of succession surrounding the Iron Throne.” Touche. The fact that Viserys had not done so was a pain in everyone’s arse to be honest.

I left him the library in peace after that having made my point and gotten a bit of pettiness and spite out of my system. My rooms were empty, likely Laena and Sera’s misadventures this morning had reached my ladies ears and they were hoping that by not being in my direct line of sight they would avoid my eventual raging.

I want to say I’m not that bad but… well, Joffrey had to tell me off for doing precisely that so I doubt I had a leg to stand on really.

Petty, vain, arrogant, angry and proud echoed in my mind and I fought a scowl.

I stashed the books in my desk to give to Laenor and dropped onto my couch and just allowed myself to enjoy the peace and quiet. The library may have taken up a good few hours but I hadn’t actually got anything done beyond confirm that Westeros had very few legends about dragons.

My body ached and I decided I’d at least touched base with Jasper, even if it had been to needle him, so maybe a nap would not be an issue.

Sleep claimed me quickly after that.


	51. Back to Normality - Chapter 47

There was no Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing yet and whilst the Sept that would eventually be forged into such by the eponymous ruler was there it was no where near grand or great enough to draw much of the nobility. So any self-respecting worshipper of the Seven in King’s Landing with access to the Red Keep would usually simply attend services there. After all, going to the Sept on Visenya’s Hill was tantamount to admitting you couldn’t get into the Sept at the Red Keep.

Which was precisely why I was not allowed to get out of it.

So every seventh day, I would take a seat between Laenor and my Father and listen to Eustace drone on. He wasn’t a very good speaker. He had a tendency to get stuck in loops, repeating his point endlessly until even the most devout and true followers were squirming with boredom. He was also annoyingly conservative and I had never forgiven him for preventing Viserys from having Daemon executed in the aftermath of that night. No man is more accursed than the kinslayer my arse. Daemon would have killed Viserys in a heart beat and you know it!

Daemon who, annoyingly, still was not dead. Losing men, ships and islands at a truly astounding rate but still very much alive. Alive and desperate. An animal was at it’s most dangerous when cornered. It felt like everyone was holding their breath and waiting to see where the chips would fall.

At least Eustace had the good sense to keep his head down and keep his nose out of politics. I had no doubt he was firmly in Aegon’s camp, despite the Seven-pointed star saying nothing about succession issues, and was probably already creating a narrative that cast me as the villain. Don’t think I’ve forgotten it was you who made up the only details that have ever cast original Aegon in a sympathetic light, Eustace, because I haven’t.

I’m out of sorts and taking it out on a man that no longer exists.

After my bleedings were over, Laenor and I had gone right back to trying. Every other night he would present himself in my room, we’d both engage in acts that left us feeling thoroughly humiliated and then curl up together and try and forget that our pride was in tatters. Every morning I would get up, scrub myself clean and go about my day. Still nothing. My next bleeding had come, lighter than usual and gone much faster. I’d gone into such a rage over it that only Laena had braved being near me. She’d relayed Joffrey’s tantrum lecture three times before I’d felt sufficiently enough like a child to stop.

Laena, who only seemed to grow more beautiful with every passing week. Laena, who’s growing belly seemed to mock the lack of my own. Laena, who watched me with such intensity whenever she thought I was not looking. I couldn’t decide if I should slap her or kiss her and get the inevitable broken nose that would likely follow over and done with.

Then Lord Gerold had presented himself to me. He was expecting his first grandchild and would be returning to the Vale as soon as Jeyne sent him his replacement as the Lynderly girl his son had married was close to confinement and he did not want to risk missing it. I’d known it coming, he’d been saying so since my nameday celebration but an actual set date of his departure hurt all over again. Jeyne still wouldn’t tell me who she was sending in replacement. Still angry I had brought up the marriage business. We’ll see if she remains angry when I start my procession and turn up with four fire-breathing dragons and a meaningful look.

I need to calm down. I do. It feels like I’m on edge. I’ve had an entire month of peace where things have been going well. This is normally where something terrible happens like more war in the Vale or Daemon popping up and setting fire to something I like.

I tuned in to catch the end of Eustace’s rant… sorry, sermon about not honouring the Seven in all aspects of your life and only when you visit the Sept. Then Viserys took my hand and I took Laenor’s and we all sang a final hymn to the Father and were finally, finally free to disperse.

“Your Grace, may I speak to you for a moment?” Or not. I turned to face Eustace with a smile on my face and sent Laenor on ahead. Laenor was not Eustace’s favourite person and the Septon often liked to deliver nasty little barbs disguised as the ‘wisdom of the Seven’. I think it genuinely upset Laenor to some degree in ways the normal attacks did not.

“Of course, Septon, I always have time for servants of the Seven. May I praise you on the excellent and well thought out sermon you delivered today?”

“Oh! Well, thank you, Your Grace,” he stammered, taken aback by the false warmth in my tone. “I have not noticed you in the Sept much recently.”

“My own prayers have been to the Mother. I have found peace in doing so more privately,” I lied. He nodded thoughtfully at that.

“Well, I shall certainly pray to the Mother on your behalf as well,” he lied right back. “But on the topic of the Mother, I wished to speak to you regarding these… midwives.”

Ah.

“Certainly, Septon Eustace. I’m rather excited about them myself!” His smile flickered. I has expected some groups to react badly, of course, but the Faith being the first to voice objections was a surprise. I’d have thought the Maesters would have been the first.

“I do wonder if these women are truly… appropriate?” he began. I let my face show confusion, a perfectly sculpted expression that I’d been told made me look like a brainless idiot. Perfect for throwing people off of their train of thought.

“How so, Septon?” I watched as he tried to formulate his argument. The Seven-pointed Star and the Faith in general had no original sin moment. No one thing to point to in the text books and say ‘this is why women suffer in childbirth’. In fact, the act of childbirth was supposed to be considered as valuable as the act of Knighting.

“The pain of childbirth is a sacred thing. Sacred to the Mother. Is it really appropriate to bring these devices and potions into the matter?” he asked finally. “The natural pain of birthing is the duty of the woman as the bleeding on the battlefield is the duty of the man. The raising of children is the duty of the woman as the burden of ruling wisely is the duty of the man.”

Wow.

“Forgive me, Septon Eustace, but I do not see where in the Seven-pointed Star that such a thing is written.” He tilted his head back, nostrils flaring. “That there must be pain? Only that it is a woman’s duty to bare the babes. A woman’s duty to raise them. A woman’s duty to guide them. As equal in importance as the man’s duties.”

“That is not precisely true,” he said finally, through gritted teeth. Haha, nice try, but I’d driven old Septon Victor half mad asking questions about the Faith. “Be that as it may there are still those who believe dulling the pain of birth is… unnatural. The Mother granted women that pain so that you might better know the joy of your babes.”

“Surely it is a matter of using the gifts the Smith has granted us?” I replied, trying a different tact. Eustace snorted and turned to the statue of said Smith. “Surely one might argue that two men in armour hitting each other with swords is unnatural? After all, we are hardly born with blades and plate. Instead the Smith gave us the secret of steel so that we would be better able to follow the Warrior. Surely this is using gifts the Smith gave us so that we might better honour the Mother.”

He was silent for a long time and then his mouth twisted in annoyance. No doubt I’d find street septons preaching against the midwives anyway. Unluckily for him, those street septons were going to get torn apart. My midwives were very popular for obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being that most people, surprisingly, didn’t like losing the women they loved in the birthing bed or losing children to entirely preventable causes. Combine that with them openly working with Marya’s many charities and… well, anyone saying a bad word against them would not be preaching to the choir, lets put it that way.

In King’s Landing anyway, I reminded myself. I could be as smug as I liked that Septon Eustace wouldn’t be able to smear me in the capital. He could still have me smeared everywhere else. He was the High Septon’s creature in truth, unlikely to bring an opinion to the table he hadn’t been told too. If the High Septon did dislike my midwives and this wasn’t just Eustace interpreting his orders creatively, I could be about to have every Septon from Old Town to the Twins bad mouthing me to whoever would listen. The worst part is, I had no real way to stop them. No in with the Faith. I certainly couldn’t order every Septon that said a bad word regarding myself to the death, I’d be Maegor with Teats again and all my hard PR work would have been for nothing.

Fine, Marya’s PR work.

How much of this was Alicent’s doing?

Laenor was still there when I got out, looking worried. After he checked I was okay, we mounted horses and rode to his Father’s manse in near silence. He’d gotten good at telling when I was worrying over something and when I wanted to vent or not. Right now, I wanted to speak with Joffrey. Joffrey whose grip on the Seven Kingdoms only seemed to tighten with each passing day. Joffrey who sometimes seemed to know what I was thinking before I’d even thought it.

Joffrey who loved his Silver Prince and would die to put his children on the Throne.

The Velaryon manse was starting to become a little bit like home. It felt welcoming, even if I did run the risk of Corlys’ hovering and whining about heirs. Rhaenys had clearly been here a while. She was dozing on one of the seats, bare feet roasting before the fire and her boots strewn across Corlys’ prized carpet. She still had not totally forgiven her husband but things were thawing once more.

As for her children… I could not tell. She seemed warm with them but when she was alone she was given to melancholy, or so Joffrey reported. She spent most her time at Driftmark, separate from them all, managing it’s rebuilding.

Not for the first time I wondered what she would have been like as Queen. Would she have been kind, wise and fierce? Or would have spent her reign battling against men who thought they knew better? Becoming slowly more embittered until she resembled nothing more than canon Rhaenyra?

Would she have taken Laenor and Laena any better as Queen? I have no doubt she’d have married the two, which was an odd thought. I’d heard whispers that she’d wanted them to marry after Viserys had married Alicent. I never thought I’d think this but I’m glad Corlys won that argument.

Speaking of her children, across from her was her daughter, hand stroking across her enlarged belly and looking completely enraptured by the flames. I felt myself tension drain from my shoulders at how domestic it all seemed as we both entered. They stirred in response.

“I thought you would arrive with Laena and Joffrey?” asked Rhaenys, stretching and yawning.

“Rhaenyra had to speak to Septon Eustace and now she’s angry,” Laenor told her as he bent down and suffered a kiss on the cheek from his Mother.

“Hm, leave the Septons to their preaching. It’s a bad idea to get too involved with the Faith. At least Viserys will be back at the Keep now.” Huh? Why did she want to see Viserys?

“What happened now?” came Joffrey’s wry voice from behind me as he slipped in having clearly just been changing into his more comfortable work wear.

“Nothing! Just Eustace sticking his nose where it does not belong,” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “He questioned me about the midwives. I’m worried it may be the start of interference from the Faith.”

“That does not bode well for when we begin rolling out other changes,” he stated, unhappily. Laenor pulled him into the couch next to him and drew him in for a tired hug. Attending the Sept with Eustace left everyone the same. Strangely lethargic. Maybe it was the secret power of the Faith, the ability to dull even the sharpest mind.

“If they have any sense they’ll stay out of it,” growled Rhaenys. “Stick to their preaching.”

“They’re Hightower men. The Most Devout at the moment are nearly half Reachman,” Joffrey replied then muttered almost to himself. “This is too much. How is she doing this?”

“What?” asked Laenor. Joffrey gave us all a stricken look and for the first time I noted he was hardly his usual cool and composed self. He looked stressed and tired.

“You know I established… businesses in King’s Landing. When I first started it was easy… too easy I thought!” Laenor and I nodded along as Joffrey ran and agitated hand through his short-cropped hair. “Then someone began tracking me. Playing with me almost, a dance. They stepped forward, I respond and they step back. I was having to respond to them and now... Now there’s someone else. They’re different to the first, less playful. This one is directly attacking me. I’m having to… diversify to a greater degree. I don’t know if I can deal with them and the Faith.”

He looked miserable and I felt sorry for him. He’d hardly been trained for the role of Spymaster, he’d been making it up as he went along. Before I could reassure, Laena spoke up.

“Another player,” she mused, surprising us all. “Daemon?”

That made sense and if it were Daemon there was only one candidate for his hand in all this. Mysaria.

Mysaria was dangerous. Dangerous and willing to slaughter any who stood in her path. She’d done as much to Hightower men when she’d been a dancing whore and they servants of the Hand of the King. What would she do if Daemon let her off the leash?

“Mysaria,” Joffrey repeated slowly. Connections forged themselves in my mind.

“Mysaria. Damn that whore, no wonder he still lives, if she is still dragging his worthless carcass out of trouble.”

And then Laena surprised us all again.

“If… if this Mysaria is Daemon’s and Joffrey is yours,” she started carefully. “Who is Alicent’s?”


	52. Back to Normality - Chapter 48

There was no sign of the sun, I noted mournfully, as I pulled on my riding clothes. Even on a normal day I would not rise until after the sun, even if I did rise earlier than most. I groaned as my fingers refused to pull the laces of the breeches properly and cast another longing look at the bed. Across from me, Laenor pulled his shirt over his head, looking just as tired as I was.

We’d been invited to stay in the manse the night before. By invited, I meant told point blank by Rhaenys that we’d be staying so that she could ensure we’d rise before dawn the next day. Today was apparently what she’d been badgering Viserys about. Whatever it was, he’d agreed readily, which was always a worrying thought.

Viserys and Rhaenys agreeing on things did not happen often.

I wasn’t sure what was going on with those two. She definitely approved of his shiny new backbone but she hadn’t been appreciative of his almost but not quite hostility to her family. Viserys saw her children as seahorses, she saw them as dragons. He saw them as just another faction and she saw them as moving to their rightful places in life.

Did she resent him for sitting on her throne or just the fact he was doing such an awful job of it?

Oh and there was the fact her and Alicent were only ever two seconds away from gutting each other at any given time. Her sparse visits to the Keep were an endless source of stress for Viserys, moving the two women around so they might never meet by accident. Alicent may enjoy baiting Rhaenys about her lost title, her children and her husband but Rhaenys was probably the only person who could get away with physical violence in turn, something Viserys knew well and was eager to avoid because Rhaenys was also the only person who would break Alicent’s nose if pushed too far.

It was with leaden feet that I trundled downstairs, Laenor at my back. Both of us were yawning frequently and so widely that my jaw was beginning to hurt and from the way he rubbed at his face his jaw ached just as fiercely. Blegh, curse morning people.

Actually, this wasn’t even morning.

Rhaenys was waiting for us, eyes bright and alert. Her daughter was in a similar state of awake to us though. Surely Syrax, Vhagar and Seasmoke could overwhelm Meleys and let us all go back to the glorious land of sleep?

“Ah! There you two are, thought I’d have to get one of the servants to drench you through to get you rise!” Rhaenys said, smiling widely. Sadist. She was enjoying our misery. I dropped into a chair and briefly entertained the thought of laying my head on the table for five blessed minutes.

Laenor, saint of a man he was, poured us both some juice and slid the full cup towards me. Rhaenys cackled at our subdued manner.

“Eat up, you’ll need a good hearty meal to get you through today!”

“What is today?” Laenor asked, grabbing at the various items strewn about the table.

“This business with dragons got Viserys and I talking. You three have never received any real military training on dragon back. Hell, Rhaenyra and Laena do not have an martial training whatsoever!”

“That’s not true, I can use a bow,” I mumbled, pillaging some pear from the bowl of fruit. Rhaenys gave me a speculative look as I bit into it… and then immediately spat it back out. “This is awful! Who did you buy these from?”

“Not my job to buy the fruit. Corlys is probably trying to cut costs again, I’ll tell him to switch back. I didn’t know you could shoot? Have you tried from dragon back?” Rhaenys asked. I dropped the slice of pear and opted for something safe… like bacon… Mmmmm, much better.

“No,” I said, in between mouthfuls of delicious, delicious bacon. “In truth even Helaena is better than me but Ser Langward is a slave driver. I’m better than average.”

“Might be something to work on,” mused Rhaenys as she washed her own breakfast down with some sort of fruit tea. “Laena, feel like learning to use the bow?”

The girl in question looked at her swollen stomach doubtfully. She was still over a month off her due date but earlier births had happened. I doubted she’d been eager to fly today, not even Gerardys had been eager to have her flying around but Rhaenys had insisted that a dragon rider could not be denied the sky. Apparently she’d been flying with Laena until the moment she’d taken her chamber.

“I doubt I’m in the state for it Mother,” she said dryly, a rueful smile on her face.

“I meant afterwards, dear daughter. If this whole business does end in war… well, even if it does not you must be able to train your children in how to deploy a dragon in battle.”

“It is not a simple matter of pointing the front of it at the enemy and letting nature take it’s course?” I joked. Rhaenys snorted.

“You joke but if you do it that way eventually you’ll be shot down. You only need look at my namesake for that lesson.” I blinked at that. “She was no warrior and, without Visenya and Aegon by her side, in no rush to use proper tactics. A true attack on a castle should leave no opening for a scorpion to come anywhere near the dragon’s face!”

“And what is the proper way?” I asked, genuinely curious. The Queen Who Never Was, and how she hated that nickname and little shit who’d given it too her, placed her empty cup on the table and smiled.

“You’ve studied the Conquest?” I nodded. “Aegon’s attack on Harrenhal is how you are supposed to attack a fortified position with a dragon. By flying as high he did and diving he rendered their heavy siege weaponry useless. Rhaenys flew straight at the walls of Hellholt. The shot may have been a lucky one but she still put herself needlessly at risk.”

If I ever attacked a castle with Syrax I would definitely keep that in mind. After we had all finished up we took a ride to the Dragonpit and retrieved our mounts. Syrax seemed as unhappy as I was to be woken so early but at least she got to sleep until after the sun had risen.

We followed Meleys in formation. Laenor and I behind her and Laena behind us, forming a diamond shape. She took us to a stretch of deserted beach and signalled for us to land. She was taking this very seriously. I knew why, of course, she was dancing round it but the only reason we hadn’t trounced Daemon yet was because only Rhaenys had any hope of matching him. Laenor and I may have seen battle but that had been against foot soldiers. Laena’s only claim to battle had been flying in defence of Bloodstone against the one or two ships that slipped through the net and attempted to hit the harbour.

“I hope that woke everyone up!” Rhaenys called as we moved in close. “Now! First lesson! Laena, what’s Vhagar’s greatest weakness?” I risked a glance at the massive beast, scarred from her various fights. The biggest living dragon. It was hard believe she had any weakness whatsoever.

“Her speed. Even Syrax, the youngest dragon here, can out fly her,” Laena answered quickly. Rhaenys snorted but did not indicate either way if Laena was right.

“How would you fight a dragon like Syrax?” she asked. Laena gave me a hesitant look.

“I would… I would use Vhagar’s armour to my advantage. Bring her in close and beat her with strength,” she said. Rhaenys nodded once but she didn’t seem all that happy with the answer. I saw Laena hesitate, trying to figure out what she’d said wrong.

“Make note Rhaenyra, Syrax is fast but one blow, true or glancing, from a dragon like Vhagar will knock her out of the air. How would you fight Vhagar?” Feeling vaguely like I should be actually taking notes, I forced myself to consider the giant beast as a possible enemy.

“Aim at the rider?” I finally guessed, not seeing how Syrax could ever beat Vhagar alone. Rhaenys smiled broadly in response.

“Excellent! If I’ve told you two once I’ve told you a thousand times! A dragon greatest weakness is it’s rider!” Laenor and Laena both looked down at their feet, almost perfectly in sync with one another and I covered my laugh with a cough. Rhaenys pursed her lips looking at them both. “A rider can not survive dragon fire. A rider does not have the instincts of a dragon. A dragon will follow it’s riders commands even if it does not believe them the best course of action. Scare or kill the rider and the dragon will be useless.”

When none of us answered she gently rapped her son on the head with her knuckles.

“I would not know what to do if anything happened to you that I could have prevented. Any of you. We might have had… difficulties but you are my children. Not even the Stranger himself will take you from me,” she whispered. “And that goes for you too, Rhaenyra.”

I swallowed, throat tight. In another world she’d outlived both of her children. Lost one to childbirth and one to murder. Had she really been reckless in that fight with Aemond and Aegon? Trapped in a cunning ambush? It was cruel thing to outlive a child, never mind two of them.

“Now, since I have grilled the girls it’s time for you, my son!” Laenor groaned. “Meleys and Syrax, Vhagar and Seasmoke… explain the difference.”

“Meleys and Syrax are pit dragons. They’re smaller and pack less of a punch but they’re faster and more manoeuvrable in a fight. Seasmoke and Vhagar are not pit bred. They rely on sheer power and thick armour,” he explained looking relieved when his mother nodded along with him. I had known that at least.

“Good! When we get to the practise side of things I’ll be pitting Syrax against Seasmoke and Meleys against Vhagar in the first half. Then we’ll switch. Seasmoke vs Vhagar and Syrax vs Meleys.” Ouch, that match up. I was well aware I was the least skilled rider here.

Actually, until Aegon and Helaena had tamed Frost and Morghul, I had been the least talented rider in Westeros. Behind even Laenor who wasn’t that far behind Laena in skill. I wasn’t sure if Daemon could outfly Laena but Rhaenys was the most talented without question when it came to the technicalities. In a fight they would be much more evenly matched, I had been assured, but I did wonder how much of that was… well, assuming Rhaenys worse in a fight because she was a woman.

Rhaenys’ lecture dragged on until the sun was high in the sky as she went over the different manoeuvres and tricks a dragon could use to defeat one bigger than it or faster than it. She warned us about fighting from a grounded dragon and promised to teach us what she knew about doing so in case the worst came to the worst. What made my heart hurt most was when she taught us how to escape from a fight you did not want to be in.

I think Laenor understood too if the look he gave me was any indication.

Finally, after a small picnic, she let us mount up once more and take to the sky, running us through different exercises and commenting on how sloppy we all were. It took me back to the days I’d have her teach me just for the pleasure of getting away from Daemon. Razor sharp tongue and all.

It was interesting to note that both Laena and Laenor used the whip much less sparingly than Rhaenys and I. More differences between the types of dragons, I supposed. I did well enough against Seasmoke and at least managed to avoid a complete humiliation. It was still clear that I had a lot to learn. I ‘died’ way too many times for comfort. Even if Daemon dropped dead tomorrow and never brought war to Westeros, there was still the Dance. I had over a decade to make sure I was good enough.

The less said about my aerial duels with Meleys the better. Rhaenys stomped me into the dirt and she stomped me into the dirt hard. At least I could take solace in the fact that a heavily pregnant Laena was still coming out victorious more often than not against her brother.

The sun was setting when Rhaenys called a halt to our training and we landed once more on the beach. My stomach was grumbling loudly when we crowded in close.

“Good work. This is going to be a regular thing, I want to work out new manoeuvres with you and perfect old ones. I also want you to get some experience in with night flying. Rhaenyra, we’ll work on your bow somehow. Ranged attack from dragon back will be useful! And both of you girls will be getting fitted for armour.”

Laena just sighed at the tone that brooked no argument. I found myself quite excited, I’d always wanted wear armour and yet had never been able to justify it. My status as princess only went so far, apparently, and it stopped at anything not ‘princess-y’.

Despite that, I was extremely grateful to finally fall into bed. We’d elected to all head back to the manse even though, technically, I was supposed to be at the Red Keep whenever possible. Part of Viserys’ crack down. Oh well, if he complained I’d set Rhaenys on him. That would teach him.


	53. Back to Normality - Chapter 49

“If Jeyne thinks she’s not getting an earful about this she is sorely mistaken,” I muttered as we waited at the dockside for Lord Gerold’s replacement. Beside me Laenor rubbed my arm soothingly but said nothing.

I’m grouchy, sue me.

I’d woken up feeling like death warmed over and cursing Jaehaerys for his propaganda that Targaryens never got ill because I was feeling particularly awful. The rotting, fetid mess that masqueraded as sea water was not helping, it was sending my guts squirming and my throat turning with nausea. If I find out Alicent messed with my hygiene training again and I’ve got food poisoning I don’t care what Viserys says, I’m strangling her and having done with it.

Ugh. Please let me get through this hello ceremony without vomiting on the Vale’s new representative. Please.

Although if it’s Gawen Corbray I’ll reconsider.

The Arryn ship docked and it felt like time was a crawl as the they prepared to disembark everyone and unload the cargo it had brought. My heart leapt to my throat as Rhea Royce picked her way down the gangplank and made her way towards us. She looked as sick as I felt but she at least had the excuse of the sea not agreeing with her. I made my way over, carefully, and wrapped my arms about her shoulders, sinking into the embrace.

“Aunt Rhea. It is good to see you,” I mumbled, voice further muffled but the fabric of her dress. Her hand rubbed my back soothingly and then she pulled away, eyeing me critically.

“And it is good to see you too, niece, but-” She broke off and glanced about at the small crowd, and Maris Grafton, on the dock before shaking her head. “Come, show me to the Red Keep. I think you and I need to have a word or two.”

The litter ride was unpleasant. Very unpleasant but Laenor kept up an endless stream of chatter the entire way and it did somewhat work by keeping my mind off of it. At least until we got to the Red Keep and Rhea paused just too long when greeting Laena. I winced as Laena did the world’s worst job at keeping the mortification off of her face, further tipping off my incredibly perceptive aunt that the rumours surrounding this bedding were probably true.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Why is my head so foggy? I could have sent Laenor ahead on a horse, he hated the litter anyway, and gotten Laena out of sight…

Once we were all seated Rhea cast a critical eye over me once more before pursing her lips.

“You look awful.” I only narrowly avoided snorting juice. Why does she always wait until I’m drinking to spring these things on me?

“She’s been peaky for the past couple of days. She refused to see Mellos though,” Laenor explained and Rhea raised an eyebrow of accusation.

“Do you not remember what I said about not being invincible?” she asked archly and I flushed, before mumbling an apology. I wasn’t going to tell her it was her own damn castle that had made me ill last time. “Although given what happened last time you saw a Grand Maester…”

I held my hand up at the reminder. Her lips thinned. She was likely another person sending an endless stream of assassins after Daemon. If he died, she could remarry without having to jump through hoops for an annulment. That he still wasn’t dead after all this time was galling.

“Laena offered to bring Maester Gerardys from Dragonstone. If she continues to be like this, I’ll send my sister regardless of Rhaenyra’s opinion,” Laenor assured her as if I wasn’t sitting right next to him. Rhea shrugged and took a drink of her wine.

“Speaking of which…” There was an edge to her voice that I did not like. It made my teeth itch, I was genuinely fond of her, she was my aunt but…

“She’s a married woman.” And then cursed myself because I was a stupid idiot who’d just given the entire game away with one protest.

“So it’s true. Alicent wrote to me to inform me of what she’d done.” Fuck that woman! Seriously!

“Alicent wants you to expose her,” said Laenor as my brain promptly presented me with zero ideas to escape this problem. “Daemon is poison right now, if you expose Laena…”

“Hmmmm, I have a mind too.” Upon seeing my stricken expression she rolled her eyes and sighed, looking suddenly tired. “I knew what Daemon was like long before you, niece, and I do recall owing Alicent payback. Do you truly not care it’s his bastard she carries?”

“It’s her child too. It’ll be Joffrey’s as well. Joffrey will raise the babe to be good and kind and clever and Daemon will get nothing. He won’t even know Daemon is his father,” I said.

“Oh! Too good!” She laughed. “A child of his precious blood will be raised by a mere Andal! He’ll call a mere Andal Father!”

Oh yeah, Rhea was really spiteful when she wanted to be.

“You must allow me to shower your sister’s child with gifts, Ser Laenor. I want him to know I know. I want to know he’s sitting on those rocks, surrounded by murderers and rapists, with the knowledge his Bronze Bitch sees more of his son than he ever will!” Laenor merely smiled in a smug manner and sat back.

“That can be arranged. Please do accept my deepest apologies for the way my Sister behaved however.” Rhea wiped a few tears of mirth from her eyes and sighed.

“If I demanded apologies from every girl he seduced I’d drown in a sea of paper. Still… his burning of Spicetown makes much more sense now. I wondered what could drive him to such madness. He has always wanted children… true valyrian children, mind you. No child of mine would have satisfied him.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Rhea.” She gave me a thin smile.

“Do not weep for me, Rhaenyra, I got a perfectly serviceable niece out of him,” she said, smiling gently. It still didn’t sit right with me, that she should be so shackled to the man. I resolved to speak with Viserys, surely he wouldn’t argue against an annulment now. I rubbed at my face and sighed. Laenor laid a concerned hand on my shoulder and coaxed me into looking at him.

“Thank you,” I said and he nodded. He understood. He’d saved me a lot of embarrassment and neatly disarmed a trap Alicent must have been sitting on for near a month now. Which meant Alicent must have known Rhea was coming. Which meant Jeyne told her… or maybe Jeyne told Viserys?

This illness is hitting me harder than I thought if my brain is running this slow.

“Niece, you truly do not look well,” said Rhea gently, reaching over and placing a cool hand on my forehead. “No temperature, not a repeat of before then?”

“Rheanyra, perhaps you should get some rest. I’ll accompany Rhea to her introduction at court.” It was a testament to the nausea twisting in my guts that I went. My rooms were once again occupied by my ladies, Maris evidently right back to playing the card shark and fleecing her fellows out of their silver if the small pile she’d already acquired was any judge. I staggered past them and Alys rose, catching me by the arm.

“Your Grace, I think you may require a Maester,” she said after a moment of studying me.

“An upset stomach, I think,” I replied, before groaning as my stomach tried to turn itself inside out. “I’ll be fine with some rest.”

“Targaryens do not get sick,” Maris cut in, surprising me. She seemed concerned enough. I noted the others were half out of their own chairs. My ladies. My loyal ladies.

“Maris is right. We Valyrians don’t get sick, not like you do. One of you send a message to my Mother to fetch Maester Gerardys from Dragonstone.” I’d never heard Laena’s voice so decisive and commanding. Neither had my ladies. “And one of you help me get her to bed.”

“I’ll tell Lady Rhaenys,” Sera Strong promised. Her twin pulled my arm across her shoulders and helped me walk forward. I wanted to protest that my balance was completely unaffected but I was sort of convinced that if I did I’d throw up on her, which was not a nice reward for her kindness. Falena joined us, evidently remembering that Laena had the grace of a newborn foal when it came to unravelling my clothing.

Maybe it was a testament to how sick I was that the thought of Laena unravelling my clothes did nothing but make my stomach turn faster.

All three of them managed to get me into bed as waves of nausea began to hit me. Marya was quick to bring a chamberpot forth and Falena and Alys were quick to reposition themselves outside of any potential splashing. Smart girls.

“I’ll stay with her until the Maester gets here,” Laena said quietly but firmly. A dismissal.

“Forgive me, Lady Laena, but should you be alone with a sick woman? You have your babe to think of,” came Maris’ worried voice from beyond the doorway. It was odd to see her worried, normally she liked her wicked smiles and rage-inducing smirks. I hoped she’d enjoyed her trip to see her family and that she was in a better mood now.

“Valyrians do not get sick,” Laena replied in a hard voice as she coaxed me onto my side and pulled the chamberpot directly below me. The other three gave me a bow and left and even three seconds from meeting my breakfast again I wouldn’t have missed the doubtful looks on their faces. Laena settled behind me and pulled my hair free of it’s braid, stroking her fingers through the kinks.

It was nice.

“I dislike that woman already.” I wanted to ask who but I also really didn’t. “Maris. She was the one that started those rumours Mother heard about you and Joffrey according to Sera and Alys.”

Of course she had. Memories of her amusement at my defence of Joffrey rose. Damn her. I should send her back to Jeyne. My stomach rolled and I whimpered without meaning to.

“Mother will be here with Maester Gerardys soon,” she whispered. “Try to rest until then.”

Rest did not come easily. I lay on the bed, Laena stroking my hair as nausea rolled fiercely in my gut until eventually I retched and finally, finally brought up whatever had been troubling me. Laena held me close, murmuring reassurance in my ear and trying to coax me into drinking at least some water. Although I could not drink, it was a blessing to finally have some release.

At least until the nausea returned and I was left sobbing over the bowl as it tormented me once more.

Laenor, summoned by a distraught Alys arrived at some point, joining his sister making me as comfortable as possible. Rhea had apparently insisted he attend to me with the full intention of harassing Viserys about something in the meantime in order to distract him from the moment he inevitably received news I was ill and attempted to mount a full assault on my quarters in worry.

It felt like an age or more when the door finally opened and Maester Gerardys made his way through, accompanied by one of his faceless, ever changing assistants. When he saw me his eyes went wide and he immediately set his bag down and stepped forward. I interrupted his poking and prodding twice to retch.

“Has she eaten today?” he asked after while.

“Breakfast. She ate a breakfast of bacon, sausage and a boiled egg,” Laenor dutifully reported as Laena nodded along.

“What has she drank?”

“Just juice, I believe?” Laena said, glancing at Laenor for confirmation. I did not miss the look Gerardys shared with his assistant then.

“She has had nothing since she began vomiting?” His voice was little strained.

“I tried to get her to drink water but she refused,” Laena explained, then fumbled to pull my hair back once more as I retched again, bringing up only burning, stinging bile.

“Make up a flask please, Edmund.” He bustled off. I finally extracted my head from the pot and noticed Rhaenys hovering by the door looking stricken. “Well, I do believe congratulations are in order!”

I glared at him through running eyes, brain chewing over that announcement until it came to it’s horrible conclusion.

“You can’t mean…?” came Laenor’s voice, somewhere from behind me. Warm hands came to rest on my shoulders as understanding trickled through me, leaving cold fear in it’s wake. A warm smile grew over Gerardys’ face and then those hands pulled me backwards and into a fierce hug, tears of happiness trickled into my neck.

“A baby, Rhaenyra. We are going to have a child. I’m going to be a Father!”


	54. Back to Normality - Chapter 50

I woke up up to a storm of nausea and groaned unhappily, pulling myself upright using the headboard. It creaked and groaned at my weight startling awake Maris who had been sleeping in a small truckle bed next to my own. Since Gerardys’ very pleasing, not at all upsetting news my ladies had not left me alone. Alys and Sera joked and chattered, determined to stop my brooding. Marya liked to talk about my baby and how it would be such a fine thing to be a mother. Falena had taken refuge in religion, quoting parts of The Mother at me. Even Maris was trying her best, taking care to discover who had irritated me that day and heaping scornful insults upon them in solidarity.

Only Laena understood that what I really wanted was to be alone, some piece and quiet to figure out where the hell my life was going, to have my mental breakdown without feeling like I was somehow a failure. That I wanted to weep to myself about the fact that I was pregnant and people knew and there was no escaping it. She’d mastered figuring out if I wanted to be held or not, letting me tire myself out until sleep claimed me. I found myself dreading the day she would leave me, when she would birth her own babe. They’d already stopped her from sleeping at my side.

Reactions from elsewhere in the court were more joyful and less considerate. Laenor had been almost glowing with pride after the realisation. Rhaenys had flitted into the room and pulled us both into tight hugs of joy… and narrowly avoided being thrown up on in turn. Corlys had arrived later and clapped his son on the shoulder and given me a nod of approval.

Which was Corlys for ‘I’m so proud I may invent billboards to tell the world how proud I am’.

Viserys had not stopped singing my praises to anyone who would sit down for more than five minutes and listen. He was so happy to have a ‘grandson’ on the way. Goodness knows what will happen if he gets a granddaughter. Helaena had been odd. Happy but distant. Jealous, Alicent had said during the one conversation we’d managed to have civilly. Alicent was not pleased with the news but she had at least banned Aemond from seeing me which was something of a mercy. He’d only grown more hateful and angry after Aegon’s departure.

Speaking of which, he’d sent a letter to Viserys to say he’d arrived and it was nice there. He’d even included a line or two to let me know that there were rooms of gold and they were as cool as they sounded. It gave me hope for our future relationship that he'd remembered my attempt to cheer him and specifically asked after me to boot.

“Your Grace, are you well?” asked Maris with a yawn. Nausea made me groan and Maris moved quickly, seizing a chamber pot and laying it out. When I was done she handed me some of Maester Gerardys’ concoction he insisted I take after every vomiting spell. It was disgusting and hard to keep down but he insisted and Alannys had backed him up. As I’d discovered, that meant serious business.

“Do we have much scheduled today?” I asked, as I finished the cup and the urge to expel it had died somewhat.

“His Grace asked that you present yourself in court if you feel well enough.” I glared at the empty cup. My pregnancy had all but halted the factions various schemes as everyone waited with baited breath as to just what I would produce. A girl and I would be inundated with those wanting a new Lady and the prestige of a match with a Princess. A son… A son was a different story.

If I had a son, various people I will not name may just wet themselves in happiness. As it was, I had other concerns than Court. As an expecting mother I was now being frozen out of all levels of governing that Viserys had previously been happy to give me access to. It was frustrating to rely on Corlys to be my representative at Small Council meetings. I wasn’t even showing yet and already he was treating me like an invalid.

He said that I had a duty to build my child a household so that we would not be scrambling after the birth. Alicent had agreed and slyly offered her own services that I had politely rejected. I had been unable to dodge his demands I have a Kingsguard once more, annoyingly, and now I had Steffon Darklyn trailing after me as Criston Cole once had.

“Your Lady Aunt said that she might visit.” That was a slightly better option than dealing with my fatheaded Father.

“Yes, send a message to Lady Rhea please, Maris.” We had plenty to discuss. Marriages and Jeyne Arryn’s ongoing stubbornness. Maybe Rhea would be able to tell me just how deep in the shit I was with her. “Where are the rest of my ladies today?”

“Falena and Marya are attending to their charities, Lady Laena is with her Mother and Alys and Sera are spending the day with their Father and Brother.” I didn’t envy them. I’d die if I had to spend a day with Harwin and his motormouth. A year had not improved him by any real amount. He still watched me with covetous eyes and the announcement of my pregnancy had been like a shot to his heart.

If he went the way of Cole I was going to scream. Especially given that the City Watch was his in totality now. A loyal City Watch would be a useful thing to have.

“What does Your Grace desire to break her fast with this morn?” asked Maris. I felt a flicker of guilt. She looked exhausted. All my ladies were exhausted. Spending the night on an already uncomfortable camp bed and then aiding me whenever my stomach decided to go on on strike. I’m pretty sure none of them had signed up for this. I tilted my head back to consider Maris’ question.

“Bacon and… ugh, fried mushrooms.” My appetite had been strange. My customary chilled fruit no longer seemed all that appealing and I hadn’t been able to stomach pear in over a month. “And a boiled egg.”

Maris went off to flag down a passing servant and I let myself relax a little and run my hand over my stomach. As far as Gerardys could tell I was not terribly far along, just over a month by his estimate. I’d protested that I’d bled but Alannys had informed me that it happened in some women.

In thirty-five weeks I would have baby. In just eight months I would have a baby. Not even a year. I’d be nineteen, barely a month past my nameday…

Maris’ return startled me from my rising panic.

“Do you wish to dress to break your fast or take it here?” she asked, a yawn splitting her face again.

“Help me get dressed, Maris, then take my bed. I’m sorry to have had you up last night.” She shook her head ruefully.

“I may have cursed Jeyne Arryn when she sent me to you but never let it be said I shied from duty,” she told me. The headache that had threatened earlier was building up behind my eyes.

“But you found spreading rumours to be acceptable?” I snapped and Maris looked at her feet, ashamed.

“Truly, Your Grace, I was being awful. I had no idea Lady Laena and he were involved.” At the look on my face, the words she was going to follow that with died in her throat. “I apologise, Your Grace, it was far below what was expected of me as one of your Ladies. It will not happen again.”

When I did not answer her she made herself busy, fetching my clothing and laying it out for the day. I kept my jaw clenched shut. Maris’ idiocy had nearly cost me my alliance with Rhaenys. Who knows who else heard those rumours and believed them? Getting dressed was awkward as Maris desperately tried not to catch my eye, not willing to start the previous argument once more.

I’d be sure to have Joffrey turn her life in King’s Landing over. If I could have any excuse to send her right back to my pain in the arse of a cousin I was taking it.

“Your Grace, your food is here!” Maris called. She herself was eating sweetened porridge that made my stomach spin at just the smell. Still, I forced it down and shovelled my own breakfast into my face with less appreciation for table manners than I’d normally give. If it bothered her, she didn’t showed it. I did note she’d arranged for some Ginger tea for me, which did nothing to cool my temper. Ginger was supposed to help settle my stomach but I found it completely disgusting. I’d told all my ladies a hundred times not to give it to me and yet they still insisted. It drove me up the wall.

That I was finding my temper short already should be obvious.

“Should I record this morning in the book Alannys gave you?” Maris asked, breaking into my thoughts. I wanted to screech and throw things. Another reminder, another thing to feed my rage.

“If you would. I would hate to disappoint Alannys,” I ground out. Alannys was very concerned about my morning sickness. And my eating. And my drinking. She seemed to be under the impression that if I was left to my own devices I’d whither away and die. So she’d recruited my ladies to record everything I ate and expelled so that she could keep a better track of my health.

Oh, how I hated the fact that I’d been wrapped in cotton wool from the moment Gerardys had happily announced I was expecting. The Crown Princess could not be given any chance to harm herself! So now I’m stuck twiddling my thumbs all day instead of ruling, like I was supposed to be!

Rhea arrived soon after and Maris took the opportunity to flee my obvious ire. I felt childish in one moment and ready to storm Viserys on his damnable throne and demand he remove the restrictions on me in the next. Doing so would be a terrible idea, of course, I didn’t have to be a psychic to know that.

“How are you this morning?” she asked, dropping into a chair by the fire grate. I sat opposite her and took a few deep breaths. Raging at Rhea would earn me nothing, she was genuinely supportive, genuinely interested in me and not just the babe.

“Well enough,” I said after I’d gotten my temper under control. “Tired. I had Maris up in the night. How are you?”

“Getting to know the court. Lord Gerold outdid himself here, he has left quite the role for me to fill!” she said cheerfully. “Have no fear, even in your absence and Lady Jeyne’s irritation the Vale lords are busily working with your Blacks.”

“How annoyed is Jeyne?” I finally brought myself to ask. Rhea chuckled.

“When I left she was allowing your name in conversation again.” I winced. “I do wonder what you did to prickle her so?”

“I… I suggested she might start seriously looking into marrying,” I mumbled finally under Rhea’s hazel eyed look. The Lady of Runestone just sighed in response.

“I would have thought you would know better. She was due to marry my brother once. She’s your age, Rhaenyra. My brother was older than I.” I winced again. “He tried several times to bring her to the Sept as a child. Imagine that? My brother was twenty and two and she just six the first time he tried it. It was only the Queen’s intervention that prevented it the first time.”

I swallowed the bile that entered my throat at that knowledge. Every time Yorbert came up in conversation, I wanted to go back in time and punch him in the throat just a little bit more. I only realised I’d said that out loud when Rhea threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh! Indeed, you and every other lord in the Vale. Had he not died alongside Willem, his power would have been stripped from him eventually.” At my quizzical look she gave me a small smile. “Willem was my brother. His Father’s son. It makes me happy both would be horrified that I ascended after them. He... he would not have been a kind husband to Jeyne, I fear. He would not have understood her friendship with Jessamyn.”

Her voice was soft at that.

"I have become rather fond of Jeyne these past few months. I must thank you for that. I had thought we would remain estranged until one of us died." I smiled, despite myself. Rhea had adopted yet another young woman. No doubt Jeyne was thrilled by that.

“Speaking of terrible marriages that are the fault of your Father, what are you going to do about Daemon?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I wondered when you’d bring that up. Do you know why I never sought an annulment?” she asked, cutting me off. Bemused, I shook my head. “Because it hurts him so much more than me to be married to his Bronze Bitch. I wear that name like a badge of pride because it is a testament to how much it pains him to be bound to me.”

“But he is not bound to you anymore. He is ‘king’ of the Stepstones. All he needs to do is make ploygamy legal and find a suitably drunken Septon,” I reasoned.

“That is very true. You wish for me to push an annulment now? Spite him with what he prized most now that it is useless to him?” I could tell by the way her eyes were sparkling I’d appealed to her spiteful side.

“I would support you in it,” I told her. She smiled happily, eyes going distant for a moment. “You could be free of him. Take a man of your choice. One last bit of spite for Lord Yorbert.”

“An heir for Runestone that isn’t that fathead Gunthor. An heir without that infernal princeling’s blood like my father so hoped. An heir I did not have to sacrifice my dignity to obtain…” I must have looked puzzled at that because she shook her head. “It is not a tale for young ears such as yourself.”

“Alright, I will assume another unforgivable crime on Daemon’s part.” She smiled again. Not even the past horror of his actions could dim the hope I was beginning to see in her now.

“Yes. Support my annulment before Viserys and I shall support you to Jeyne.”


	55. Back to Normality - Chapter 51

“… the lady did reply she was from Lys, and not Dorne! To which our fat septon pointed out she would be from anywhere he wished now that she’d taken his copper!”

At the risque joke, half the court erupted into laughter whilst the other half looked completely scandalised. I merely rolled my eyes. Mushroom’s jokes were hardly funny or that unpredictable as they were nearly always about sex or naked women and these days, almost always included a ribald nod to the Three Daughters or Dorne.

If he were being extra brave, which was not often, he’d made mentions of a pirate king. A pirate king that. Still. Was. Not. Dead.

Not that I am frustrated or anything.

The nasty little shit bowed at the reactions, a smile lighting up his face. It baffled me greatly as to why Viserys kept him around. He’d never struck me as the lustful type many in the court were.

I did not think he even had a mistress, although from Joffrey’s cringe-inducing reports, there were whores in his bed occasionally. Speaking of which, said spymaster was trying to subtly get my attention.

Since the revelation that there were now three major players in King’s Landing, he had doubled down on his work. Laenor had reported many times that he’d been forced to drag Joffrey away from his desk or become worried about his protection as he left at all hours to coordinate those loyal to him personally.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do beyond stripping him of his power entirely. The gods knew I could not afford to do such a thing, not now, not when I was due to have a baby.

My hand drifted to my stomach. Seven weeks. Was it healthy to count them so? As if every week that ticked by was another tick towards my doom?

I excused myself from Viserys’ side as he sat enraptured in another tale regarding the fat septon’s adventures and slipped out, Joffrey in tow. Steffon followed, giving me a stiff nod as I waved for him to stay outside of the room Joffrey and I eventually ducked into. He was worried, I noted. He was always worried these days but this was different.

“We have a problem.” Wonderful!

“Go on.”

It did not do any wonders for my nerves that he didn’t immediately answer, I assure you. Instead, he focused on his feet, projecting shame. “Joffrey…”

“It is Qarl Correy. He has returned.”

Excuse me? I thought I’d headed this one off?

“You did not kill him?” I hissed. His head jerked up and he met my eye.

“I did not know! I did not know why it was so important he not be near Laenor. I thought you were… reacting badly to his unfaithfulness,” he sulked. “I merely had him put on a ship and informed he was not to return.”

His tone had started out defiant but ended with a note of something I couldn’t identify. “His ship would have crossed the Stepstones.”

Horror bloomed in my gut and nausea forced me to drop into a handy chair.

“Where Corlys would have wondered why I wanted him gone and likely left him there when Laena fled. Probably imprisoned if he admitted to being Laenor’s lover,” I reasoned, feeling the blood drain from my face.

“And your uncle freed any man who swore to follow him,” confirmed Joffrey. “What is a disgraced knight when he’s hiring slavers and pirates to his banner?”

“Fuck. Fuck. Um...uh, how bad could it be? He’s just some middling knight, Laenor knows to stay away from him…”

“My men report he’s been spending a lot of money. New armour, new weapons and certain… creature comforts,” Joffrey pointed out. Qarl Correy was not an especially rich man, so this pretty much confirmed he was someone’s stooge. “But so far, that’s all he’s doing.”

“What is Daemon up to?” I wondered.

Did he hope that Laenor would wander right back to his old lover? I suppose he did not know that we knew Qarl Correy’s true allegiance but surely he should know Laenor would not be so foolish.

“Is it a distraction?” I finally reasoned.

“That is my worry as well, but what from?” he replied.

“There are two things he’ll want. The things he’ll feel we stole from him. He could not know where we… hid his prize. Laena then?” She wasn’t quite at her due date yet but… well, she was only a few weeks off.

Close enough to have taken her chamber and earlier births had happened. If he wanted to strike when she was at her most vulnerable this was the most opportune time.

Damn it, if I had my way she’d be giving birth in Syrax’s shadow. My hand traveled to my stomach again.

There was a very real possibility that Qarl Correy might be playing the assassin again.

“Travel nowhere without a reliable guard,” I let the commanding tone of a queen enter my voice and Joffrey sighed.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Do not mock me, Joffrey. He’ll want you dead, me dead, Laenor dead, Laena in his power…”

“I… you are right. I apologise.” That was the first time I’d ever heard him sound so shaken. When I stepped out into the hallway again, Steffon straightened and I sighed before turning to him.

“There is a knight I want nowhere near me. The kind of nowhere near me that ends with him dead if he tries to approach.” Steffon was my Father’s creature still, no doubt this would get back to him but it seemed like the height of idiocy to not warn a bodyguard of a threat.

“Your Grace?” he said.

“Qarl Correy. A thoroughly odious man unworthy of the title knight. I had him shipped off once and he seems to have found his way back here via the Stepstones.” Steffon’s eyes widened and he nodded seriously, for the Stepstones meant only one person after all.

“You have my word that he will be kept from you, Your Grace.”

As I returned to the hall, aware of the eyes that followed me, and retook my seat by Viserys, I played with the idea of allowing Ser Steffon to be more familiar with me. It might be worth letting him call me Rhaenyra if it bound him to me rather than Viserys.

Then I thought better of it, I’d thought the same of Cole and look where that had gotten me.

Viserys spared me a smile as Mushroom expounded on a ‘totally true story’ about a liaison he’d supposedly witnessed in which a noble lady had lain with her husband only to discover it was his sibling in disguise. For extra titillation, the sibling was a woman. Because of course she was.

Stay classy, Mushroom.

“Is everything well with you, daughter?” he asked, sympathy in his voice.

“Perfectly fine,” I replied as Mushroom somehow got another laugh from the crowd. “I merely needed some air.”

Viserys was momentarily distracted and chuckled slightly before turning back.

“Should you need to leave…?”

He was genuinely concerned and it was touching. Now that I was actually pregnant and suffering from it, the point I've been making about our family and childbirth had suddenly become real to him. It was why he was treating me as if I was two seconds away from dropping dead. He was suddenly very afraid he’d lose his daughter to childbirth, just as he’d lost his mother and wife.

I wasn’t sure how a white cloak was going to save me from that, but bless him, he was trying.

He wasn’t letting his fear dampen his excitement though. He was brave like that. Ugh.

Nausea made me tense in my chair briefly before my stomach settled once more.

Honestly, I could not wait for the twelfth week. The magical threshold where my stomach should finally have adjusted to having a baby nearby and quit being such a little bitch.

I eyed Alicent from the corner of my eye. She’d never had morning sickness with any of my siblings. Damn her.

My stomach rolled in nausea again and I gave it up as a bad job. I bid goodbye to Viserys and Alicent as politely as I could and made my way out of the hall, taking a litter to the manse. As Laena’s due date loomed ever closer, Laenor had been distressed to learn that men were not allowed to visit in confinement and had decided to take up residence at the manse in protest.

No one had tried calling him out on it yet, because honestly, they would have to be the dumbest person on the planet to argue against an expectant father, especially one who could order his flying reptile to broil them.

I’d seized the change of scenery with both hands and my teeth. Besides, I was allowed in the confinement chamber. A small mercy, as Laena only had Rhaenys for company otherwise. Okay, I was exaggerating. My ladies had also been coming by to see her. Although they’d done much the same for her as they had for me.

Except Maris, who took endless joy in sending Laena into a fury and then fleeing before the girl could struggle from her bed to perpetrate some physical violence.

And also, weirdly, sometimes Rhea. Rhea was very interested in that babe, perhaps even disturbingly so. It was bizarre to me that she seemed fine.

A Westerosi woman, confronted with evidence of her husband’s unfaithfulness, and she seemed fine. Accepting, even. She laughed off my concern every time I brought it up. Apparently, girls heavy with bastards had been a common thing when Daemon had been in residence at Runestone.

Rhea knew of at least three bastards he’d left serving women with during the early years of their marriage. I had three cousins out there somewhere. Three more children shared the blood of Baelon Targaryen, but it didn’t really feel like it.

Westeros must be getting to me.

I think a good part of Rhea’s good humour came from the fact that Laena had ensnared his heart only to shatter it into a million tiny little pieces. And honestly, I think she just liked babies in general.

Laena was alone when I finally entered, flicking through a book that I vaguely recognised as one of the ones I’d taken from the library what seemed like an age ago. A familiar stack nearby confirmed my guess. I smiled, Laenor must have sent them over. She put it aside when she noticed me though and greeted me with a tired smile as I sat down.

“Good afternoon.” Gods, she looked exhausted.

“Laena, how are you feeling?” I asked. She sighed and fell back into her pillows.

“Do you have all afternoon for me to complain?” she asked. I ran a hand across her stomach, feeling her babe’s spirited kicks through the thin nightgown she wore. She grimaced. “He won’t stop. He’s eager to be out, I think.”

“Well, the time is close and any child of yours is bound to be impatient when there is exploring to be done.” She grimaced again and laid her hand on her stomach.

“Have you given much thought to names?” I asked.

“Joffrey thinks a traditional Velaryon name would be for the best. We have decided on Lucerys,” she told me. I raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. She was so damn convinced it was a boy I honestly hoped she was a girl, just to see the look on her face when she realised.

Lucerys. The name a son of Rhaenyra would have borne in another life. Murdered by his kinslayer uncle, his body never found. I prayed this Lucerys would have a better fate.

“Will he bear a dragon egg?” Laena tensed at that. “He has the blood for it.”

“I do not know. Dragons are for Targaryens, but I am not a Targaryen. I am Vhagar’s rider though.” I smiled at the show of determination. “Mother has offered an egg from Meleys, but I do not know what we will do if the King says no. He has before.”

I scowled at the reminder.

“That is different. The lady in question was a Lysene whore and the babe a bastard.” I said with heat. Laena chuckled, although there was no real mirth in it.

“This baby is a bastard too unless you had forgotten?” How could I? I swallowed down the brief flicker of anger at its father and instead smiled at its mother.

“Not to my father.” Liar liar. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to tell the Velaryons that Viserys knew. I knew I should, I really should. He may intercede and order Rhaenys not give Lucerys an egg, he could blindside us at any time... “I will speak to him.”

“Thank you. It is kind of you to do so.” The smile she directed at me made my stomach do somersaults.

“It’s no problem, truly. Anything for a friend.” I stayed with her for an hour or two before leaving her to her sleep and heading back to the Keep. Viserys had requested a family meal and I, being the dutiful daughter, was rushing to obey.


	56. Back to Normality - Chapter 52

My first hint that something might have gone terribly wrong was when I rode back into the Red Keep to guards in Targaryen livery swarming about and the bells ringing out to signal an alarm. It should say a lot about how much I was expecting something to go wrong that all I did was sigh in annoyance.

As long as it’s not Viserys everything should be fine. Laenor was at the manse, Laena was at the manse, Lord Corlys was engaging in a flying visit to Driftmark with Rhaenys providing the flying bit…

Where was Joffrey?

“Steffon, see if you can’t ascertain what has happened?” I ordered, suddenly worried, and the white cloak nodded, flagging down the nearest knight with a worried look upon his face. Noticing Ser Steffon’s waving, the knight braked hard and finally seemed to register my presence.

“Your Grace!” he said with a bow. “The King wished to see that you were safe at the first possible opportunity!”

That didn’t bode well. Please don’t be Joffrey…

“And I shall attend to my Father as soon as I am able but first I wish to know what has happened here.” The knight bowed again.

“A murder, Your Grace! In the Red Keep and so close to the King!”

“Who?” I demanded, heart leaping to my throat. Next to me Steffon shifted uneasily. A murder was no laughing matter. A murder when one of mine was unaccounted for…

Fuck.

“Mushroom, Your Grace. The King’s Fool.” That derailed my train of thought quite nicely. I stifled my need to sigh in relief it wasn’t Joffrey. Still, a murder would have me thinking it a Black and Green argument that got out of hand, perhaps some kind of daring assassination attempt against a rival but… Mushroom? Who would kill Mushroom!? And why!?

Okay, he was annoying as shit but… really?

Feeling like the world had gone a little mad I allowed a small escort of men to take me to my Father with no further protest. The idea of someone killing Mushroom was utterly bizarre. He was a court fool and a dwarf. He was literally not a factor in anyone’s plans.

I know he liked to overestimate his importance in his future works but he really, really wasn’t that important!

“Was the attack aimed at Mushroom?” I asked, feeling like I was missing something huge.

“There were no witnesses, a young lady discovered the body shortly after he left the hall.” I was told. I turned my eyes to Ser Steffon, who was frowning.

“Not much time to commit murder and escape,” he pointed out, tapping at his chin.

“Yes. No more than a few minutes. No signs of any struggle, it seems the attacker took him from behind and left before he could be found. Quick, neat and silent.”

“Professional. Someone sent a professional after Mushroom.” I struggled not to laugh in disbelief as I said that. The idea was funnier than any joke he’d ever told! It could not be right. He had to have stumbled onto something by accident.

Viserys was quick to wrap me in a bone-crushing hug when I arrived before looking to Ser Steffon for reassurance I had not been in any danger.

“I feared it a distraction from an attack elsewhere,” he admitted after he’d wrung a report about my whereabouts and if there had been any trouble along the way from my bodyguard. It was gratifying to see he had looked to me before answering my Father’s questions. Worrying too, Criston had definitely seen that. No doubt he was already constructing some sort of twisted narrative in his head.

“A distraction for what I wonder?” I mused. A distraction definitely fitted more than someone spending actual coin to kill Mushroom. There were a lot of distractions floating about King’s Landing at the moment it seemed.

“The Red Keep is being searched from lowest basement to highest tower. We can find no trace of any other wrongdoing,” Criston intoned, voice neutral.

“So something elsewhere?” I had been at the manse when the attack occurred. I doubted it had been a strike at me or the Velaryons. Who else in the city was worth an attack in the Red Keep itself as a mere distraction?

“We have Ser Strong leading a search of the city,” Viserys told us.

“If this is Daemon’s doing the gold cloaks may not find anything,” I pointed out quietly. Viserys’ lips thinned as he thought that over.

“Ser Harwin has been cleaning Daemon’s scum from the Watch but I am not so arrogant to assume he has them all. I will instruct Lyonel to raise some of his men to temporarily replace the rank and file. At least until we have enough to completely retrain them.” I nodded along. It was drastic but we had all known Daemon still had some presence beyond Mysaria.

I did not want a house call from Blood and Cheese. Not with Laena so close to her due date and myself pregnant.

“Beyond a purge of the City Watch, we must remain vigilant. What of your defences?” His eyes travelled to my new white cloak which annoyed me slightly.

“Ser Joffrey has my defences well in hand. He handpicked a set of guards before we left for King’s Landing. Even if I can not see them, I have been assured they are always present,” I told them. I tried not to be angry that Criston perked up at that.

No doubt Alicent would know of my own little Secret Service by sun down.

“I suggest you up your guard then. I will not lose you and the babe you carry.” My hand fell to my stomach by instinct. He smiled gently at me and raised his own to cover mine. “Do you hear that, little one? If I have to fight the Cannibal itself I will keep you and your mother safe.”

That was strangely touching…

Ser Steffon coughed meaningfully and leant forward, interrupting the moment. I was sort of thankful for that. I felt like crying and I refuse to cry because of Viserys being fatherly. Or grandfatherly… whatever.

It’s hormones, I swear!

“Should you not inform your Father of the knight?” he asked. I wanted to protest. Correy was Daemon’s but… but two distractions in the city at the same time? If they were both Daemon’s it was something big.

“A good point Ser Darklyn,” I said, making a show of leaning backwards and looking thoughtful. That got both Criston and Viserys’ attention.

“Daughter?”

“I had an encounter with a certain knight almost… hmm, has it been over year? Regardless, I had him shipped off.” Not mentioning Ser Joffrey here was probably a good thing. I wasn’t quite sure how much Alicent knew regarding his position in my court but I’d already given her one secret today.

“Define encounter?” said Viserys darkly.

“He had entirely the wrong idea about Laenor and I. I set him straight.” Viserys nodded. He was aware of the rumours but our performance over the last year had put a lot of that talk to bed. Joffrey’s rush marriage to Laena even more so. It was relegated to a belief only the hardcore Greens held. The sort of thing Mushroom made… had made jokes about. “He was a rogue through and through. His ship would have passed through the Stepstones.”

Viserys face transformed into a scowl at that. Everyone knew what Stepstones stood for these days. Actually maybe not, Daemon’s hold grew weaker with every report we received. The Dornish had piled in now, with considerable relish.

He may not have taken a knife to the guts but I’d be surprised if he held onto those islands for much longer. Caraxes could only be in one place at once, after all.

“He returned to the city recently. Spending money I know he should not have. It’s probably not linked to this but-” Criston cut me off.

“The timing is concerning,” said Criston, looking thoughtful. “With your permission, Your Grace, I will seize this rogue and have him questioned.”

His helpfulness is suspicious. Then again, Alicent generally likes Daemon’s assets far, far away from the city.

“Do so, Ser Cole,” said Viserys coldly before turning back to me. “I would ask that you continue staying in the Velaryon manse until we know precisely how this occurred. I know you are there whilst young Laena takes her chamber but perhaps it is best if you stayed there a little longer.”

Surprised, I nodded. He’d been keen on keeping me close since he’d finally decided to take his family in hand and gained something to beat me over the head with.

“Remember our conversation, Rhaenyra.” The reminder was hardly needed. “And I want updates on that babe. I’m quite excited for Rhaenys’ first grandchild.”

I got what wasn’t being said. Despite everything Daemon had done, his child was still something Viserys cared about.

“Speaking of children,” I began. “Have you given anymore thought to the annulment of Rhea’s marriage? She is getting no younger and it seems cruel to have her wedded to a man she will never see again.”

“Might I remind you, daughter, it is the High Septon that decides such things.” At my disbelieving look he snorted in amusement. “I’ve never met anyone who believed that.”

“Oh,” I said, thinking of Laena. “I have.”

“Ha! Fair enough,” he said, then leant forward and rubbed at his face. “Still, I will give the petition some true thought. You are right that it is cruel to keep her shackled to… to my brother after all he has done. You will have my answer in a few weeks, once this present crisis is over.”

That was probably the best I could hope for. Afterwards I gathered my ladies to me and sorted through who would move to the manse and who would stay here. In end, only Alys and Sera would be following me. Falena and Marya were given free range to work with their charities and Maris was to keep an eye on my household in the Keep.

And not, I told her sternly as the packing began, fleece everyone I employ out of their hard earned money via blackjack and poker. Honestly, if she carried on at this rate she’d be able to buy Gulltown back from the Arryns.

I didn’t ask to see Mushroom’s body or investigate the corridor in which he’d been killed because that was ghoulish and unfitting of a pregnant Princess but I was damn well going to get Joffrey on the case. The killing of Mushroom made no sense unless one bought the theory it was a distraction. A distraction for what though remained to be seen. Who wanted the distraction?

If it was Alicent… no that did not make sense even there. Alicent was not one to, in the vernacular, shit where she ate. The Red Keep was hers. She could engineer any number of distractions that would trip considerably less alarms than a murder three rooms away from Viserys.

Daemon then? He would not be above murder. He would not care about said murder taking place in the Red Keep. Blood and Cheese proved he had access to those who knew the tunnels. But if it was carried out on Daemon’s orders, why? And if it was his distraction, what was Qarl Correy?

If both were his distractions, what was he so desperate we did not uncover? He was weeks, possibly days, away from losing all control of the Stepstones bar a miracle. I could think of nothing in King’s Landing that would halt his fate. Was it a warning? Did Mushroom know something about his plans? If he did not, why pick Mushroom at all? Why not a random servant?

Argh! I was going to go mad like this!

I definitely needed Joffrey’s eyes on this, I thought, as I mounted up. He would know of any discrete schemes in the city currently. Mysaria was not so good that she could pull of something momentous without him noticing something amiss. I hope. She had once had men of the Hand murdered and arranged artistically outside the gates, I reminded myself.

Laenor seemed surprised to see me back so soon and then very, very grim when I explained what had happened. Joffrey was summoned. He also had no idea what Daemon was planning, annoyingly.

“Mysaria’s movements within the city are much reduced… I had put it down to Daemon’s weakening hold on the islands,” he admitted.

“But it could be the calm before the storm?” asked Laenor, looking worried. Joffrey had briefed him on Qarl. Knowing the man who would kill you in another life was close would put anyone on edge. Frost certainly gave me the shivers despite being a small baby no taller than my waist and the wrong dragon to boot. The less said about Joffrey’s feelings towards Cole the better.

“It could be. I do not see what he gains. He is about to lose his kingdom, why spend resources killing a Fool here?” Joffrey mused. “It is a shame Qarl will be vanishing into the confessor’s domain soon enough, I wanted to ask him a few questions myself.”

“I’ll be sure to relay anything I learn from my Father to you. No doubt he’ll spill his guts the moment he touches the rack.” Laenor smiled at that, a predatory smile that sent tingles down my spine. Judging from the look on Joffrey’s face, I wasn’t the only one.

Then he caught us both admiring him and blushed such a deep, vibrant red I couldn’t help but laugh. After a moment, Joffrey chuckled along with me.

“Well, I can’t say much for you two but I’m waiting for the next disaster. These things never happen in ones.” Oh gods, why did I say that out loud, I’ve doomed us all!


	57. Back to Normality - Chapter 53

That night proceeded relatively quietly even if I spent the entire time waiting for something bad to happen after my slip up. Laenor and I took our meal with Joffrey and made sure Corlys had been alerted that something was happening in the Red Keep. Corlys was still at High Tide and not due to return for some time, intent on milking what he could from the treasury.

Old Spicetown was built with what was on hand, natural growth spurring it on odd directions. New Spicetown was going to be glorious if the amount Corlys had leveraged from Viserys was any indication.

Joffrey went over my protection details again and grilled Ser Steffon for a good hour. The white cloak took it in good humour. It seemed he was declaring his loyalty to me because Viserys had insisted I have his total loyalty. According to Ser Steffon they’d all heard Cole’s rants about me in the White Sword Tower and he had no intention of going the same way.

It was nice to know Cole still thought about me. Constantly.

Joffrey had decided it to be good enough and was filling him in on the need to know details of my security.

I paid a visit to Laena once more to tell her about Mushroom. Surprise surprise, he’d been quite rude about her at times, mocking her to the court after Viserys had turned her down as a bride and after her fiance turned out to be a dud. He’d also coined her Mother’s hated nickname so it was safe to say she wasn’t grieving but like most she was startled and unsettled by the fact anyone would be so bold as to slay someone in the Red Keep and so close to the King. That we both suspected Daemon as the true culprit went unsaid but I knew from the way she clutched her stomach as if she could protect her unborn babe from his Father by will alone.

Alys and Sera arrived with my belongings and in good spirits but looking as if neither had slept. Laenor offered to watch me in the night, much to their badly disguised relief. Both had, apparently, only narrowly escaped Lyonel and Harwin’s overbearing protection and only because they were distracted by their scouring of the City and the Keep.

Still Laenor watching me did send me into a small pit of despair: Why did pretty people I liked insist on being in a position to watch me make a mess of myself?

I had a good night, even if I did wake up to my stomach rolling with a vengeance the next morning, intent on punishing me for getting too comfortable. After I’d dealt with that unpleasantness and drank the horrific brew once more Laenor brought me my Joffrey-enforced breakfast. Which consisted of bacon wrapped around small fishes and artfully placed fried eggs.

Alright, I’ll accept this as a compromise between my desperate need for fried food and the things I was supposed to be eating on Alannys’ orders. It actually wasn’t that bad to say I had no clue what type of fish I was even eating. Good enough that Laenor stole one before disappearing for his daily training.

Afterward, with my stomach’s cooperation, I enlisted Alys’ help to dress myself for court and made my appearance before Viserys. He seemed concerned, distracted. I could understand his worry. The Red Keep was still in uproar, still in the grip of rampant speculation. I heard no less than thirteen unique theories for who had killed Mushroom and why before midday.

Each one more lurid and ribald than the last. Mushroom would have been proud.

Alicent was late to court, something which did not usually happen. Even less reassuringly, she was smug. She was only ever smug when bad things were about to happen to me or those I liked. I glanced around for Cole but found the white knight conspicuous by his absence.

Gods damn it I knew I’d jinxed myself.

Still, it would not do to let Alicent see me panic. Instead, I forced myself to calm down and accepted some juice to settle my suddenly unhappy stomach. Laenor’s arrival, unharmed and freshly bathed, set me even more at ease. Although with the muscle he was putting on it would soon be time for a new wardrobe, I noted and most certainly did not drool over the fact. His doublet was looking a little… tight, that was all.

I’m getting very distracted. I mentally recounted where everyone else was; Joffrey was working from home today, Rhea was chatting with a few Crownlanders, Raenys and Corlys were at Driftmark and Laena was still safely tucked away in her birthing chamber.

So what was she planning?

I got my answer when there was a scuffle by the doors as the guards there prepared to stop an intruder. Panic rose through the crowd and both Steffon and Laenor drew me close, swords out to face whatever threat dared attack the Throne room whilst Court was in full session.

Viserys himself broke of a conversation he was having with a petitioner to stare in confusion but Alicent… Alicent looked almost serene.

The lack of the sounds of fighting saw Laenor sheathe his blade but Steffon remained alert at a nod from my husband. The crowd parted as a knight in very new and, to even my untrained eye, very expensive armour marched up the centre of the room and bowed low to the King. Viserys was red with anger at the disturbance, that did not bode well for this stranger.

“Your Grace! I present myself before the Iron throne to confess to my crimes!” He called, voice like melted chocolate. Besides me, Laenor stiffened and mumbled a nasty curse under his breath and I understood. A glance toward Alicent told me all I needed to know. She looked as if it were her birthday, Aegon’s coronation and my funeral all rolled into one.

“I must admit, Ser, it is a rare day a man confesses a crime in open court,” Viserys said icily. Ser Qarl Correy rose to his feet and pulled his helmet free of his head. Laenor’s hand tightened on my arm as his gaze wandered over to us, a nasty smile in place.

He’d clearly been handsome at some point but his adventures on the Stepstones had not been kind to him. He was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot and beady and his face unshaven, short beard patchy and unkempt. Had he not been wearing such armour I would have him pegged as a bandit.

Well, that was as good description as any. That armour marked him as Daemon’s. Alicent may be willing to use him but not even she would spend that kind of money on a man little better than a hedge knight. No, if I wasn’t mistaken, that would be Daemon’s money. Daemon’s plot.

What was he trying to do? Force Laenor into a duel he’d have lost a year ago? Or was he just trying to reignite those rumours once more and give Alicent fuel for her rumours? Was this one last stab at me before Dornish or slave spears extinguished him for good?

“I come because as shamed as I am, I can no longer allow a greater crime to fester away here in the Red Keep itself.” The court was paying attention now, dead silent at the show Correy was putting on. I fought my nausea and tried to ignore how Laenor’s breath was coming fast in panic.

“Greater crime? You have not even confessed your own crime yet?” Viserys said, eyes flicking about the court before resting on Alicent. The Queen didn’t seem to notice, her green eyes were on me, conveying a savage glee. He scowled at the sight. New, competent Viserys was evidently aware of who had engineered this then. No doubt Alicent thought it worth the screaming match they would have later.

“I confess I shamed my name and my knighthood. I confess I engaged in sexual relations with Ser Laenor Velaryon in exchange for money and a place in his househ-” He was prevented from speaking further as the courts whispers rose into a shocked roar. I allowed my face the transform into one of disgust and moved closer to Laenor. He’d evidently had the same idea, if his own shuffling to me had any indication.

No doubt everyone was conveniently remembering those old rumours right now. Old rumours that had died down to the glow of embers, fed only by Green desperation, now set to rise to the roar of a wildfire once more.

“I bedded him! I bedded him and he did confide to me he loved only men!” Correy continued once the roar had died somewhat. I looked towards Viserys, who was now so pale I was genuinely afraid he might pull a canon Viserys and hack his own fingers off on the blades of the throne. I let my face show the fury I was feeling. “Ser Laenor Velaryon is-”

Viserys cut him off with a incoherent scream of rage, pushing himself to his feet. Annoyingly, I noted blood running from his fingers. At least he hadn’t lost any? Damn, this is going to go in Eustace’s symbolism folder.

Correy backed off as Viserys advanced down the steps looking ready to tear him apart with his bare hands.

“How dare you!? How dare you!?” Viserys’ sounded on the verge of madness as he stopped halfway down. “My daughter is pregnant! She bears Ser Laenor’s babe unless you wish to accuse her of bearing bastards!? Do you!? I promise your, Ser, if you do you will face me!”

I winced as he said the b-word. Surely he could have let the implication go unsaid? Now everyone else would be repeating that particular accusation. It would not matter how Valyrian my children looked, unless all of them looked like physical clones of Laenor the word bastard would always follow them. In whispers to be certain but it would always be there.

I took a few deep breaths as rage clouded my vision.

“Guards, have this man taken to the dungeons. Introduce him to the rack, so that he may tell us of his relationship with Daemon Targaryen… and then cut his tongue out for spreading such disgusting lies regarding my goodson.” At the mention of Daemon, Alicent looked significantly less smug and a lot more worried.

Putting Laenor and I on the spot was one thing, humiliation and the hint my child was a bastard wouldn’t bring too much heat down on her head beyond an few arguments and tense nights. After all, Viserys hadn’t done much about that in canon and his grandkids were the only thing that got him angry in that time line.

But doing so via an agent of Daemon? Viserys was ready to kinslay his own brother right now, what would he do to the Queen that aided in his plots?

Correy panicked as the guards moved in, hand falling to his sword. For one brief moment it looked as if there would be a fight but then Laenor stepped forward, his face a mask of fury in a way I had only seen after Cole had nearly killed Joffrey, and hurled his glove at Qarl Correy’s feet. My stomach flipped and flopped in response as the chatter of the court rose to a roar once more.

I clenched my jaw as the urge to vomit hit me like a freight train.

“Honourless cur! Face me like a man for those lies you speak! I will have blood for this dishonour!” Correy stared at the glove and then stared at Laenor in shock. Alicent, despite looking more pale than before, managed a kind of distressed but satisfied smile.

I knew why she was so smug, of course. Laenor had the reputation of a man that only knew one end of the sword from another with a detailed diagram. The nobles liked to whisper that he had squired so close to home so that his Father could hide his shame when it came to his martial abilities. That he was no true knight, not really.

But Laenor had been improving since our visit to the Vale. The recent months since Daemon left Dark Sister behind had seen him go from better to good, if Joffrey was to be believed. Was he good enough to trounce Correy? Good enough to put two sets of rumours to bed?

Regardless of the sudden distress my stomach was causing me, I arranged my face into a vicious smile in approval of my husband’s actions and the evident confusion Correy was showing at Laenor’s backbone. I suppose that the last time Correy had spoken with Laenor, he’d still been the cringing boy afraid of his Father and terrified of his new wife.

That Laenor would never have fathered a child, even in the round-a-bout way we had managed to produce this one. That Laenor would never have dreamed of Dark Sister, never have put the effort in to have the skill to do it justice.

“And I have a mind to grant you the right!” called Viserys, joining us mere mortals at the foot of the Throne and reminding us all that he was the final arbiter of these things. His face was pale and he trembled with rage but I could see the way he was looking at Laenor. As if he was seeing him in a new light, unsure how he’d missed the man willing to hurl challenges about.

Then he smiled, grim and vicious, and what satisfaction Alicent had faded. It was Laenor asking for satisfaction. Not a champion on his behalf. I could see her thoughts following my own from a moment earlier.

This was sloppy. Very sloppy. Not having Aegon around had panicked her… and the small window of opportunity that Correy provided did the rest. It must suck for her not to have Otto in the capital. She’d always relied on him for her more ambitious schemes.

“Yes, I believe I will grant you that right. As long as this insult to knighthood wishes to accept it?” There was no mercy in Viserys’ face as Correy suddenly looked as if he’d realised he was missing something important.

He glanced down at the glove once more and one of the knights in Targaryen livery stepped forward and shoved him. The meaning was clear. After only a moment more of hesitation, Correy seemed to recover and scoop up the glove.

“I will prove the truth in the eyes of the Seven!” he told the court, attempting triumphantly and falling far short. “I will prove you a sword-swallower and a boy-lover. That you shame your name, your house and your wife!”


	58. Back to Normality - Chapter 54

Alton checked and rechecked the armour that he was strapping Laenor into with a worried expression on his face. Like Correy’s, Laenor’s armour was new, heavily inspired by the old Valyrian armours and embossed with the Seahorse of House Velaryon. He was magnificent in it.

My guts still rolled with fear, and maybe just plain nausea, though as he strapped on his sword but forewent a shield. No amount of chiding upon my part would have him take it. I will admit to knowing little about fighting but a shield seemed pretty important.

“Do not worry, Rhaenyra, I have Correy’s measure and I know I’m better,” he said confidently. I glared at the juice I couldn’t bring myself to drink. Alton bustled off somewhere else, leaving us alone. Laenor really should knight him soon, the gods know he’s talented enough for it.

“And what if you die? Alicent will have my child named a bastard. Laenor, I do not know what I would do without you.” He smiled sadly in response to that and spared me a kiss. It was not passionate or full of love but I was touched all the same. “It is not still too late to run away to Yi-ti. To leave all this behind. We could take Laena and Joffrey with us, have a grand adventure.”

I was only half joking.

“You always come up with the most delightful ideas,” he chuckled and pulled me closer. I rested my forehead on his breastplate and sighed. Which was naturally when Viserys walked in, face like a storm cloud and his hand thickly bandaged. I would have to keep Gerardys on alert for any sign of infection. The last thing I needed was him dying now of something completely stupid.

“Ser Laenor, do you mind giving me a few moments with my daughter?” he asked, voice tight with the effort of not shouting if I knew him. Laenor bowed in response before taking my hand and squeezing it. I got the message. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.

“Yes, Father?” I asked politely after he’d left. Part of me wanted to let loose now but worry was winning out over the rage at the moment.

“Would you tell me the truth if I asked if there were any truth to his claims?” he asked, meeting my eyes with a stern gaze. I went to reassure him, only to have the lie die in my throat as I looked at him.

“I suppose Alicent told you,” I said. His eyes glittered dangerously.

“She did, yes. I’d heard the rumours… I thought it more court drivel,” he said finally. “Oh my girl, why didn’t you tell me? I would not see you dishonoured so!”

“It is a man’s prerogative to find pleasure in others. Tell me Father, how many whores have you had in your bed?” I managed finally, rage narrowing my vision and nausea roiling in my gut. He scowled at my answer.

“The whores I’ve had in my bed have all been women.” His voice was steel and I found myself sneering in response. He hadn’t cared when he’d given me to Velaryons to cover his own arse. He’d admitted it himself. I’d had to marry Laenor the moment he’d turned down Laena. The moment he’d banished Daemon the first time around.

“There are none, man or woman, in Laenor’s bed. How many can say that about their husbands?” I shot back. He pursed his lips, a speculative look in place. “I know who he shares his heart with, Father. At least I know he will not bring disease into a our marriage bed or produce a few Velaryon bastards to threaten my own sons. He may not love me, Father, but he respects me. We are allies, friends and partners in all things. How many women would kill for that with their own husbands?”

“Not to mention,” I said testily, when he continued directing that look af anger and disgust at me. “That the moment you married Alicent, you had to marry me to Laenor. You had to unite Rhaenys’ claim to your own. How many times do you think she would be able to stomach being passed over?”

He flinched when I pointed that out and then went silent for some time, studying me through narrowed eyes.

“Not even Rhaenys could support this! I should have him exposed, have you married to a proper man. A man who will treat you like the Princess you are. Like the Queen you will be!” he said, venom entering his tone. As if my protests meant nothing. Pain in my fingers startled me and I realised my hands were clenched tight.

“Father, you understand you can not do anything about this. I love him, I’m having his babe,” When his face only darkened in response, I hardened my tone. “If you try for an annulment, you invite the rage of four dragons to your none.”

It was a struggle to keep my voice level, to not scream at him, but shouting never worked with Viserys and if he got the idea this was to be done… well, he would not stop until it was. I must have done something right because he took a physical step back as if I had struck at him.

“You speak truly… as much as it pains me to say,” he said and his voice was quiet. I’d not heard this tone in a long, long time. Not since… not since he’d come to me after Daemon’s banishment to beg for forgiveness. “Are you truly happy with this? Truly not disgusted? You do not have to pretend for me. You never have to pretend for me. I am your Father.”

He ended on a choked sound, as if he might sob if forced to say more. I took a moment to think on it, to think of Joffrey and Laenor. There was no burn of jealousy, no irritation or annoyance. Their romance made me smile, it made me happy to see Laenor and Joffrey happy.

But even if you ignored that, Laenor did try. He was going to be a great father and an ideal Prince-consort. He did not want to rule me, as another might. He was willing to work with me and not through me or around me. His family brought dragons and yet more legitimacy to my claim.

“I am not pretending,” I finally said. I did not want to contemplate Westeros without Laenor or Joffrey, Laena or Rhaenys… hells, it would even hurt to lose Corlys at this point for all the trouble he’d caused me.

“Forgive me. Last night was one of unfortunate revelations.” I blinked at how defeated he sounded. “I had thought Alicent tamed when I sent Aegon away. I thought she would end her doomed campaign.”

I snorted at that, went to respond, but he held up a hand. His gaze seeking mine looking almost desperate.

“Yet when she learned of Correy she arranged to have that show in the Court. She arranged to try and humiliate you,” he continued. “And then when I confront her, she revels in the fact she was only bringing to light what mistakes I had made. I can not apologise enough, daughter, for the impossible situation I put you in.”

I drank my juice angrily, it was sickly sweet and made me want to retch but at least it was better than having to confront Viserys’ realisation that he was screwing me just as bad as Alicent was at times.

“I’m so proud of you, Rhaenyra. You have taken a disloyal husband and wrung trueborn children from him. You have taken Alicent’s challenges and gone from strength to strength. You will be a Queen that can stand shoulder to shoulder with Jaehaerys… nay, you will be better than him.”

“And yet all of that could be for nought of you allow Alicent to keep attacking me so,” I pointed out, voice sour and bitter. His eyes found his shoes and I swallowed back the urge to scream in frustration.

“What would you have me do, Rhaenyra? Send her away? Imprison her? Kill her children? Sending her away would work as well as it did with Otto. I do not think I need to explain to you why imprisoning her would not go well and if you want your siblings dead I’ll have the title of heir stripped from you by dawn tomorrow.”

Frustration boiled in me at that as his eyes came up to meet mine again. The sad thing was, he was telling the truth, for the given value of it. Sending her away would give her leave to scheme in peace, but like Joffrey's marriage to Laena, he was justifying it after the fact. The fact was he loved her and he could bear to send her away.

It was the same reason he would not imprison her. It invited the rage of her allies which included some of the most powerful men and women in the Seven Kingdoms but he could weather that, it was the fact she wouldn't even pretend to love him moving forwards that made him hesitate.

Killing my siblings… I thought of Aegon’s smiling face, so happy after he’d tamed Frost. I thought of Helaena’s fierce hug after she’d revealed her dreams to me. Not even Aemond, vicious child that he was, deserved death.

“I thought she knew that no child of hers would ever sit the Throne. I made it clear after I found out about Daemon.” Suddenly, a great many things have become so much clearer. At the look on my face, he elaborated. “She threw it on my face. We were arguing about- oh I forget what and she threw it in my face. She told me Otto should have pushed the annulment for Daemon whilst he had the capital. She told me my brother should have been king over me.”

There wasn’t much you could really say to that so I didn’t bother saying anything. A really vindictive part of me wanted to point out I had a happier marriage with a man that could not love me than he did with a woman who should.

“I told her, Rhaenyra, that her children would never sit the Throne. That it was punishment for her shame,” His voice was harder now. “And yet she still seeks to undermine me. I have forbidden her contact with Aegon and when Aemond is old enough he’ll be fostering with the Tullys. Alicent has ruined them both in this mad quest for the Throne.”

“And… you will not like this.” My heart lurched as he paused, looking at me speculatively. “I’m sending Helaena to that cousin of yours, Jeyne. She did well when in your care and I have a mind to give her back to you but she will do better away from the court, I think. Besides, you will soon be busy with your own babe.”

I swallowed at that, grief rising up in my chest. Helaena was sweet and I loved her fiercely. I knew Jeyne would not mistreat her but… but it was still a hard thing. He was certainly hitting Alicent where it hurt. She loved her children. He was wrenching away three in total. Helaena would be departing soon if I knew Viserys and Aemond would be going the moment he reached his sixth nameday. She would be left with Daeron, not even two yet. One last thing for her to lose if she continued to step out of line.

A harsh punishment but still, it wasn’t enough.

“Cole is just as complicit,” I reminded him. His face darkened in response. “He took Correy to Alicent first, let him infiltrate the Royal court. He placed you in danger, placed me in danger, placed my unborn child in danger!”

“I will deal with him.” He placed a warm hand on my stomach and I struggled not to shudder in disgust. I did so hate people doing that. Laenor was the only exception and even then because it was his kid. You don’t realise it until you’re pregnant but a great many people seem to find perfectly acceptable to just start touching your stomach for basically no reason. “You will sit the Iron Throne. Your son will sit the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra, I may not have been the best Father but I promise you that. Please believe that.”

“Of course, Father. I do not doubt it.” I will sit the Iron Throne but if it’s something you did that ensures it, I’ll eat my non-existent hat.

“Now come, your young man must no doubt be eager to defend his reputation,” he almost spat, throat bobbing as if he were fighting back bile, ruining the touching father and daughter moment we’d been having quite thoroughly. There was an element of disgust in his voice that made want to start slapping and not stop. Had Laenor taken a thousand whores to bed and given me the pox to boot no one would bat an eyelid. He could field an entire army of bastards from his breeches and no one would really care. Had he been a typical Westerosi he could have forced the pregnancy the moment we wed as was his marital right.

But gods forbid should he give his heart to another knight. That was just too far.

We made our way out to the arena. During the lavish tourneys Viserys was fond of throwing this would be where the melee was fought or where knights would duel in one on one matches. This was where Laenor hoped to slay Qarl Correy. To turn the tables on his murderer and, a part of me whispered, at least die with a sword in his hand should he not prevail.

No, I could not think that. He had to prevail, he had to win. He had to for me, for the child we made together.

I wasn’t even allowed to look nervous. If I looked nervous then it implied I was worried he would not win. If I was worried he would not win then surely there were some truth to his allegations. After all, the Seven decided the victor and a man could not win a duel if he were not righteous…

Damn Alicent to all Seven Hells!

I noted that my Blacks had mustered in force, their presence outweighing even Alicent’s Greens. Although, I noted with annoyance, Joffrey was absent. He had thought it best he not set more rumours swirling about by letting anyone see his worry. I had told him to damn the rumours and damn the lords and come anyway, he’d apparently ignored that order. When Correy stepped out my lords booed and hissed fiercely. When I bestowed my favour on Laenor they cheered for the Relam’s Delight and her noble husband.

“Don’t die,” I told him quietly as I affixed the black scarf to his arm. “Please don’t die. If he beats you, yield. We will weather whatever storm comes but don’t die here.”

It set my stomach churning again that he did not answer me.

We took our seats in the King’s box. Alicent was already there looking constipated. I suspected that was the best she could muster. If Correy failed today she’d lost a son and daughter, danced to Daemon’s tune and incurred the wrath of her husband. She would come out of it with nothing but a few more points against me in a few people’s minds and Laenor’s increase in standing in turn.

I’d always held back, always refused to sink to her level. There was a chance, I told myself, that she might see she was going to lose and back out gracefully. A small one to be sure but if I never truly escalated, if I never started with the nasty side of court intrigue or started with assassinations, there was a chance this could end peacefully.

Not now.

She had threatened my child. A child I did not want but my child. My husband and my child. The woman I loved and her child. Even if I declared Aegon heir before Viserys was cold she’d kill me. She’d kill my children. She’d kill the Velaryons just to make sure. Either that or Otto would.

I took my seat as rage and fear boiled away in me, pushing me to do anything but sit and watch as my husband fought for his life.

I was so angry, plans whirling in my head to teach her the meaning of waking the dragon that the duel seemed decidedly anti-climatic in comparison. The two men started out slow, each testing the other’s defence and skill, or so Viserys informed me. It was soon apparent that Laenor had not overestimated himself or underestimated Qarl Correy.

Even my untrained eye could see he was almost playing with him, leading him about the arena. No blow touched Laenor’s armour and soon enough Qarl Correy’s strikes began to slow, becoming sloppy. Laenor danced around him, blade flashing.

Something inside me eased even if I still wanted to throw up.

“See that? He’s gone out and bought brand new armour but he’s never trained in it,” Viserys observed loud enough for both Alicent and I to hear. “I’d wager ten dragons it’s heavier than what he’s used too. Your Laenor may be wearing new armour himself but at least he’s trained in it.”

Alicent shifted in her seat, pale as she realised how badly she’d messed this up.

I watched with a deep, soul-pleasing satisfaction as Laenor reigned blow after blow, striking quickly at the head or the back of the knee, and as Qarl Correy became desperate and panicked in response. He could yield. He’d be hauled off to the dungeons, be given over to the confessor’s ministrations and if he survived he’d be separated from his tongue but he could yield.

He didn’t yield and then Laenor killed him.

He stopped playing, stopped taunting, and stabbed Ser Qarl Correy through the visor. One neat and easy movement and Qarl Correy died. He hit the floor with an almighty crash and then the crowd roared in approval. I stood alongside Viserys, letting the world see my glee, as Laenor bowed in Viserys’ direction.

“Have his body sent back to his Father, if the man even wants it,” Viserys ordered. “Ser Laenor, there was truly no doubt as to the outcome of this duel. The Seven favoured you against this foul plot by Daemon, a foul plot aimed at the Velaryons.”

The crowd was nodding along now. Viserys was giving them a plausible way out. A reason Correy had said those things, a reason they weren’t true. It may not kill the rumours dead but it helped. He clapped his hand on my shoulder before making his way out of the box.

Alicent remained sitting, looking as if she were as close to vomiting as I was. I sensed ravens might be flying to the Hightower tonight. She may be Green-in-Chief but she was never above running to Daddy for help with her more ambitious schemes.

I gave her a smile that promised hurt in turn for today before making my way towards Laenor.


	59. Interlude - Maron

Lord Aron Dayne was unhappy with their new allies, he noted, as the man in question paced the deck of the ship. He would stop occasionally to direct a glare out at the spectacle before them before beginning once again. He did not need to ask why. Lord Aron was merely the most vocal of the Lords but he was well aware there were more who disliked the idea of working with slavers than who’d approved.

The Dornish fleet manoeuvred ever closer to the port of Bloodstone. Ahead of them, the Triarchy barges ferried men to land where they swarmed the gates to the Keep and were slaughtered in a deadly killing zone for their trouble.

For every man that died, one made it through. It would only be a matter of time before the gates fell and they could land. Land and show the world what the Dornish did to dragons. He would prove himself the warrior his brother needed him to be.

He had little head for politics, that was Qoren’s wheelhouse. He may be young but he was a father already and a good ruler to his people, he had won Dorne’s respect with wise decisions and hard work. He knew that the Dragons had been fermenting rebellion amongst the Stony Dornish, paying bards and singers to tell tales of the evils of slavery.

As for himself, he’d wanted to repay them in kind, send some of those poisoned words right back in the form of whispers about the fat King’s daughter or the Green Queen she threw herself against. Qoren had put a stop to it. His brother wanted the mad dragon on their border gone first and he wanted the honour of Dornishman doing the deed. It amused him. Would the fat King pay them the bounty he’d put on his own brother’s head if they tried to claim it?

He allowed himself to imagine killing the mad dragon personally. The glory, the accolades…

Perhaps Daemon was the worthier target. There was plenty of time to deal with the fat dragon, after all, and only a small window to claim the head of the mad one. The mad one that had tried to kill his own niece if the rumours were true. He smirked at that but it was a bitter one. The dragons only cared when one of their own were hurt. Where was the justice for the tens of thousands of lives taken in the Dornish conquests?

Yet one failed assassination had all the little lions, wolves and fishes scrambling to strike back, scrambling to please their scaled overlords. Let those lesser creatures bow. In his mind, the Targaryens were no better than the slavers they allied with now. Their kind had founded the Triarchy!

“Why are we waiting? They’re dying in the thousands,” demanded Lord Dayne, snapping the younger brother of the Prince of Dorne out of his thoughts.

“Let the Triarchy waste their men into Daemon’s defences. We will move in afterwards,” his brother said. Dayne coloured red.

“Those are slaves they’re sending into the meat grinder. Slave soldiers!” Dayne protested. Qoren frowned.

“It is distasteful but the Sea Snake knew what he was doing when he built up Bloodstone. Would you rather Dornish men marched into that death trap?”

“A shame he could not prevent the mad dragon from burning Spicetown,” he sneered and his brother’s men chuckled in response. Qoren remained frowning, turning his face back to the bloody fighting in the distance.

“We have yet to see the mad dragon or his mount,” his brother pointed out. The chuckles died at that. Caraxes was a fearsome beast by all reports and Daemon had only grown more brutal with it as his support dried up. They’d all passed the destroyed ships, the burned wrecks, that he’d left littering the approach to Bloodstone.

A warning.

“Caraxes took a few bolts in his last flight, according to the Tyroshi,” grunted Waren Wyl. “It’s injured and ripe for the slaying. Care to end another dragon, Lord Trystane?”

As the Uller lord smiled, he considered the Wyl. He sent shivers up his spine. He’d never met a man from that family that wasn’t a nasty piece of work. If Dorne were to survive the dragons they needed that nastiness. They needed these slavers. A necessary evil, his brother had said. Daemon Targaryen was a threat to Dorne. If he somehow secured the Stepstones, Dorne would be next in his sights.

Qoren would not risk handing little Aliandra a smoking crater as her birthright. If they played this right, he may yet hand her a strong Dorne that had power over the Narrow Sea via the Stepstones. That would show those snivelling, cringing Braavosi and the too proud Pentoshi.

As they watched smoke began to rise, twisting into the air, as the Triarchy soldiers breached the port’s defences and what little men Daemon had left to him ignited the town behind them as they retreated to the Keep. Qoren smiled then and the signal went out.

He felt excitement coil in his gut as he readied his spear. The Dornish would land, they would storm the Keep and they would end one dragon. The others would come in time. The time it took to make the landing felt like an eternity, he wanted to be gone. Whilst he was stuck here another might claim the glory!

Finally, they disembarked. His brother by his side, wielding his own spear. Men in Martell livery flowing around them. Dayne had been right about one thing. The slave soldiers had died in droves to breach the gates. Their corpses slowed the Dornish assault but not even Balerion the Black Dread could stop them now.

This was a reckoning. Justice. There was a roar in his ears and it was echoed by the men he lead toward the Keep proper. They passed more dead slaves on the way and surrendering sellswords, pirates and slavers. He gave them no quarter. There would be no prisoners here.

They had been given months to run, to find new employment. Months to stab the man that led them in the back and claim the spoils of their rewards. They’d had days to open the gate to the Keep, days to sabotage the town’s defences.

No. There would be no mercy now.

He killed three men as they battled their way forward. One had been surrendering but the other two had come at him with death in their eyes. He stayed close to Qoren. For all his dreams of glory, all would all be lost if Qoren died now. Little Aliandra was only one.

He killed another as they began the storming of the Keep.

By the Seven, the Keep…

He forced down bile at the bodies. They’d all died hard. Some had been hung badly, some had been crucified, some had been burned, others left to rot in gibbets. Mad dragon indeed. What drove men to such acts?

There could be no doubt that this man needed to die. He followed the press of bodies, becoming aware of a distant roaring bellow. A dragon. His heart raced at the thought of meeting one. The Blood Wyrm. Caraxes.

Even injured it would sell itself dearly. It had sent thousands to their deaths. It had been the mount of two Targaryen princes. And, he reminded himself, where Caraxes was his rider would not be far behind. No doubt he thought he could flee justice on it’s back. Maybe he thought he could find sanctuary in Volantis, Braavos or Pentos. Maybe he would be foolish enough to go back to the fat king.

It didn’t matter. He would not get the chance. Qoren would ensure every man in Dorne knew what Daemon had done here, the horrors he’d perpetrated. Let the fat king think on that as he sat upon his pile of twisted, cursed metal.

The first of the explosions took him completely by surprise.


	60. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 55

Another pained scream cut through the manse and I winced without being able to help myself. Across from me, Laenor tapped out an anxious beat with the heel of his boot. Joffrey was leant forward, eyes on the fire in the grate. Both were tense beyond measure and I could easily match them.

I should be in there with her. I was a woman, I was allowed. Yet she’d demanded Alannys and Rhaenys remove me the moment her waters broke. The beat Laenor was tapping out changed again and I flinched, grinding my teeth together in annoyance. The urge to strangle him peaked for a moment and I flexed my aching fingers.

Joffrey raised his head and caught my eye, a rueful smile growing over his face. Then the door banged open, all three of us jumping in fright, and Corlys stalked in.

“How is she?” he asked, breaking the heavy silence.

“We have as much news as you,” Joffrey replied, voice strained. Laenor stopped his tapping at my second heated glare and instead took Joffrey’s hand, dropping a kiss to his fingers.

My mind searched for a distraction as Corlys glared at Joffrey.

In the week since the duel, Alicent’s Greens had hemorrhaged supporters. It gave me hope that this may yet be resolved without war but that didn’t mean I wasn’t about to deliver a coup de grâce so to speak. I could wait it out. I should wait it out but a panicked animal backed into a corner was at it’s most dangerous. All she would need to do to rescue the Greens was wait and rebuild in the shadows. If Viserys drops dead at a similar time in canon it gives her nearly a decade and a half to turn it around.

So I was going to make damn sure they couldn’t.

“Have you given much thought to what I suggested?” I asked Joffrey finally. Another cry delayed his response and gave Laenor and Corlys time to turn curious eyes towards me.

“I have a few ideas. Are you truly sure about this? It is an escalation. You have always bee-”

“She could have killed him. If he hadn’t been training these past few months she may well have,” I said coldly. “She will be dangerous now, looking for the next opening and he will be by her side through all of it.”

“What are you planning?” asked Corlys, looking to me and Joffrey after he realised even Laenor did not know.

“It’s not a plan yet,” Joffrey assured him. Someone ran down the stairs and yelled for something voice indistinct and Laenor stood up, agitated.

“Are we seriously discussing schemes and plots whilst Laena is giving birth!?” he asked, looking aggrieved.

“Yes,” I told him, then turned back to Joffrey. “And it will be a plan.”

He sighed and rubbed at his face. Laena had gone into labour before he’d had the chance to shave this morning and it showed.

“This is revenge. It is not needed.” I was about to let him have it, pointed out that he would have lost just as much as I had Alicent’s scheme succeeded when Corlys cut in.

“Speak plainly!” he barked. I rubbed at my sore fingers and sighed.

“Alicent has lost her children, the good opinion of her husband and she’s losing lords at an astonishing rate.” Joffrey opened his mouth to interrupt but I silenced him with a look. “It’s true. She has only one person she can turn to in all of this.”

Corlys sat back in his chair. Steps pounded up the stairs and a scream sent us all tensing again.  
“Otto. You think she’ll bring Otto back to King’s Landing,” he said finally. Laenor looked as if he’d just been fed something foul.

“Viserys banished him. He won’t bring him back now. Not when Alicent has so fallen out of favour,” said Laenor, eyes flicking to Joffrey as if asking for confirmation. Joffrey returned the look with an unhappy one.

“Viserys has two blindspots of sorts. Rhaenyra and Alicent. Should Alicent play the good wife for a year or two… well, who knows,” Joffrey finally said as if it was dragged from him by Laenor’s gaze.

“And if he does come back he’ll retake control of the Greens,” my husband said, voice cold. “I have become quite tired of those rabble-rousers.”

“They threaten our child. Alicent will always threaten our child but Otto… Otto is the greater threat should she get him back to the capital,” I told him. Laenor nodded along with my words and Joffrey shot me a look.

“Otto Hightower is a menace, serving under two weak kings has given him a swollen sense of his own importance. Viserys should have never married Alicent, it only encouraged him,” opined Corlys but I could see he was interested. His scheming had been vastly curtailed under my control but the mind that would have seen a Velaryon royal house was still there and eager to chew over another problem. “You intend to remove him from the game permanently.”

I didn’t bother with assent. He knew, I could see the savage smile growing across his face in turn. Velaryon and Hightower interests had begun to clash shortly after Corlys had ascended to the Lord of the Tides. It had started with shipping and had only gotten worse in the years leading up to Otto becoming Hand. I do wonder if Jaehaerys had wanted him as Hand to counter Corlys’ influence, still strong even after the Great Council. If so, that was another thing I could blame on my Great-grandfather.

“Kill him? That is going a bit to far?” Laenor exclaimed. Joffrey looked triumphant.

“No. This is needed. Alicent will call him and he is a snake. If we kill him we end him as a threat and send a message to Alicent that I will not roll over should she try to hurt our child again!”

“A message…” he mused, scratching his chin. Then his eyes went to his Father. “What would you see done?”

“I’d see that wretch dead and his whore daughter too,” Corlys growled and Joffrey groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“Alicent is too well-guarded. Food tasters, Reach knights, intermediaries-” Joffrey started, cruelly stamping on my dreams.

“So is Otto,” Corlys pointed out. I smiled sweetly at Joffrey who just sighed, probably regretting telling me about a certain bit of information from his factor in Old Town.

“Not… necessarily,” he finally sighed as my smile didn’t fade. “He has a taste for women. He won’t find that in the Red Keep.”

“Oh!” breathed Laenor, that predatory smile growing across his features once more. Only for it to flicker and die as Laena cried out in pain once more.

“Do not worry for her. Rhaenys will fight the Stranger himself if he comes for her,” Corlys said, fondly. One day I would have to get the story as too how they met, agreed to marry and fell in love. Corlys struck me as a man who had wanted her for her royalty and she struck me as the person to hate that with every fibre of her being. “Now explain this realisation you just came to.”

“It has to do with the nature of my-” Joffrey started but I cut him off, not willing to dance around the issue for Corlys’ benefit.

“He owns brothels. It’s how he gathers a lot of his information.” Joffrey glared at me and I suppressed the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Corlys let out an explosive breath and stood once more, pacing back and forth.

“You have my support for this providing you can come up with a decent plan of attack,” he said finally. “If you should need anything, I am at your disposal.”

“You have mine too,” said Laenor and Corlys paused in his pacing to stare in bafflement. He frowned in response. “Otto and Alicent will kill my child, kill my wife, my sister and Joff as well! Why should I not help defend them?”

Corlys nodded and clapped his son on the shoulder again and Laenor looked ready to burst from pride at the action. Joffrey just sighed and looked tired.

“If this goes wrong we risk every single gain made in that duel,” he said. “If this goes wrong, your Father will likely strip you of your title.”

“If it goes right, we cripple any resurgent Greens. If this goes right, we remind Alicent that if she plays stupid games with us she will win only stupid prizes,” I replied and a ghost of a smile worked it’s way across his face. He rubbed at his stubble again, around us the house had gone quiet.

“I shall have to remember that turn of phrase. Very well. I will begin working on a method to bring Otto to King’s Landing and to his death.”

“Thank you, Joffrey,” I said and I meant it. A knock on the door and an exhausted maid peered in to the room.

“My lords, Your Grace.” We all stood as one. “They are ready for you.”

It was hard to say who cleared the room faster. Probably Laenor but only because he had longer legs. Even Joffrey managed an impressive spurt of speed given his leg. It was frustrating to have to let everyone else go before me before I could wedge myself into the room that had been the extent of Laena’s existence for the past three weeks.

She was alive. Alive and conscious, even if she did look awful. I suppose nobody looked good after giving birth. She clutched at a sobbing bundle of cloth, fixing it with wide eyes as if she was not even daring to believe it real. Rhaenys, seated by her side, chuckled as we all piled in and immediately crowded the new mother.

“Seems you’re the proud father to healthy son, Joffrey!” she laughed. Laena finally looked up at us, an almost shy look in her eye as she moved the bundle forward a little for us to see.

Silver hair and violet eyes. Apart from that he looked the same as every other baby in existence. Small and pink. His low sobbing became a warbling cry and Laena pulled him back, fussing at him in an almost panic. That earned her another laugh from her mother.

“Don’t worry so much over him! Babies cry, it’s not a failing on your behalf,” she assured her daughter.

“I know. You’ve told me a thousand times,” Laena rasped back, her voice clearly not quite recovered from the screaming. “I never ceased crying and Laenor was as quiet as a door mouse.”

Then she turned her gaze back to her son with eyes full of worship and wonder. Corlys smiled indulgently at the sight. New grandfather and new grandmother. Joffrey shuffled forward then, a look I did not understand on his face, and peered over Laena’s shoulder.

She caught his eye and smiled, shifting so that he could see Lucerys once more. His brown eyes softened and he extended a finger. A small pink hand met it, flailing at the unfamiliar object. Then my spymaster smiled broadly.

“Hello Lucerys,” he said. “Welcome to the family. I’m the only sane one here.”

That sent Rhaenys into peels of laughter and even got a chuckle from Laena. Corlys just snorted and Laenor… Laenor looked as if someone had just kicked a puppy in front of him.

“Your Grace?” I blinked at the intrusion and turned. A maid stood in the door, worried look etched over features. “It’s… well, King Viserys is… here.”

I was out of that room so fast one might be forgiven for thinking I’d been set on fire. Laenor was at my heels looking just as worried. What the hell was he doing here!? The Velaryons did not know… surely he had not come to see his nephew?

Viserys was indeed standing in the drawing room, face a riot of emotions.

“Father!” I called and his attention fell on me. Before I could question him further he drew me into a hug and heaved a heavy sigh into my shoulder. “What is wrong?”

He pulled back.

“I needed to know you were safe,” he said finally. “I needed…”

“What has happened?” I said, fear spreading through my body. Laenor linked our arms and I let myself lean against him slightly.

“It is Daemon.” Laenor drew in a sharp breath. Daemon had been behind Correy, he was likely behind Mushroom’s death. I braced myself for bad news.

“The Triarchy and the Dornish launched an assault on that island of his, Bloodstone. He burned so much of their fleet that the harbour was nearly unusable until they brought Caraxes down.” I gasped at that. Rhaenys had grieved for that dragon a long time ago but I knew she would grieve anew for him. “Caraxes isn’t dead but it gave them an opening.”

“So they took the island? What news of that bastard?” I asked. Daemon fleeing was not ideal but his loss of the Stepstones was a bonus for us. Shipping would begin to return to normal now. My heart dropped like a rock as Viserys shook his head again.

“I fear Bloodstone has earned it’s name. Daemon… the reports are not clear. We think he set off a cache of wildfire.”

“By the seven!” Laenor choked out. I could only stare in horror. Wildfire meant alchemists. The alchemists were mine. Was this what he intended the distraction for?

“He fled. Left the Dornish and slaves to their doom and he fled. We know not where he has gone.”


	61. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 56

I walked into the rooms Laena occupied at the manse and promptly walked out again as her musical laughter followed me. I waited for a while before her still amused voice called me back in. She was seated on the low couch but fully clothed at least. Lucerys gurgled happily from her arms, clearly fighting sleep as his eyes closed occasionally.

I swallowed at the reminder. Gerardys and Alannys put me at around thirteen weeks. I was closer to the half way point than not and it terrified me.

“You must knock if you intend to be so prudish about the matter!” Laena chuckled. I blushed a fiercer red in response. “Not even Falena is so disturbed by the sight of Lucerys feeding.”

“Look… it’s a thing,” I sighed. She chuckled, amused smirk in place, then gestured me over.

Gods, hadn’t that been a surprise.

Rhaenys was a big proponent of personally feeding your kids and not leaving it to a group of faceless women whose only qualifications were having the milk on hand. ‘Dragons need another dragon! Fish, lions and stags will not do!’ she growled when I’d push the issue.

She’d clouted me when I’d pointed out she had said Jocelyn had done the same for her and Jocelyn was a Baratheon.

Of course, she expected me to do the same with my babe. She had her heart set on the matter. I was less convinced. I’m sure everyone would definitely take me seriously and it wouldn’t at all get in the way of my duties as heir. I had a feeling it would be a wait and see matter. I did not know whether it was Rhaenys’ preferences or an actual thing after all. Valyrians were said to be part dragon and I did not know if I could forgive myself if something happened to the babe and I could have prevented it.

As I sat opposite her, Laena shuffled the sleepy child into my arms, leaving me to rock him gently as she got up to pour herself some of the fruit tea her mother had recommended.

A month had done a lot to change Lucerys. He now looked like an actual baby at least. He wasn’t even bad as babies go. Both Aegon and Aemond had never stopped crying, even Helaena had sulked endlessly, but little Lucerys seemed quite solemn. He cried when he was hungry or when he needed changing and that seemed to be it. Gods, I hoped I got that lucky with my own, especially if Rhaenys intended to knife me if I didn’t feed them personally.

I peered around her room, sad that I could no longer claim the manse as home, no longer invade to bother her when the fear become too much. With no more murders and the biggest suspect in the wind, Viserys had made it clear he wanted me back in the Red Keep. I had been reluctant to return but… well, my relationship with Viserys had been odd since Laenor had won his duel.

I’d expected him to make a comment about Lucerys or Laena, to use that stick he had so recently found, but instead he just took my reluctance like a bolt to the heart. It threw me off badly enough that I eventually agreed. Laenor was still in the manse though, ostensibly to help his nephew take his first steps into the world.

The rest of my ladies had been given the day off. Normally I’d stagger it so I always had at least two or three but when I went to visit Laena… maybe it was selfish but I preferred to have her to myself. I so rarely got to see her, even if she had technically returned to my service as a lady. The few times I did get to see her… well, Lucerys was always in tow and she was quick to parrot Alannys, Marya and even Falena’s lines about babes, being pregnant and the Mother.

It. Was. Weird.

I sulked slightly as stared down at the babe in question. That he had inherited the silver hair and violet eyes of his parents wasn’t such an issue. It was simple to point out he favoured his Mother and not his Stormlander ‘father’. Given that Alicent’s children were all Valyrian she couldn’t exactly approach from that angle. Not that she was doing anything at the moment. She was in damage mode, playing the Good Queen perfectly.

How many would remember Daemon’s face in a decade or two? How many would remember it well enough to pick out his features in Lucerys? Did it even matter anymore? Daemon was gone. No more did he crouch on the Stepstones like a gargoyle, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike. The Triarchy and the Dornish had seen to that.

Daemon had seen to them in turn.

The Dornish were a nation led by children now, a potential civil war in the making, and the Triarchy were already sizing each other up just waiting for a chance to plant a dagger in their rival’s backs now that the man who had united them was gone. 

Westeros was safer than it had ever been. Yet I couldn’t be happy, couldn’t take joy in any of it. Because he wasn’t dead. 

He’d be back. He couldn’t let go. He’d want Laena, he’d want his son. I needed to find him, needed to kill him, before he returned at the most inconvenient time. Before he harmed my own child but Ser Joffrey barely had a hold on Westeros, spies in Essos were a long way off.

“Rhaenyra?” Laena’s gentle voice cut into my musing. She was sat opposite me once more, sipping at her tea, with a look of concern etched into her face. “You went away a bit there.”

“My apologies. I was thinking,” I replied, shifting my grip on Lucerys who cooed in response and began chewing on my shawl.

“Brooding, you mean. You have been doing that a lot lately,” she said. “Alannys said it is bad for the babe to brood as much as you do.” 

“My babe can handle my brooding. They will be a dragon.” Laena snorted in response and I smiled.

“Father is still furious,” she said finally, as if she were arguing with herself as to whether she should even bring it up. I smiled thinly.

In the aftermath of the news about Daemon, I had brought the issue up with Laenor and together we’d both gone to Viserys. My children needed to be dragons, not seahorses. Laenor had reasoned that any child that inherited Driftmark would take the Velaryon name but my children deserved to bear the name Targaryen.

Corlys had been furious. He’d wanted a Velaryon grandchild on the Throne but Rhaenys had understood, had promised to talk him round. She knew that Laenor’s name had spoken against him at the Great Council, that if I wanted every advantage I could get, I needed my children to be Targaryens.

And I wanted every advantage now.

Viserys had agreed so readily I wondered if he had not had the thought himself at some point. I’d barely gotten through the request before his happy nodding had tipped me to the idea it would be far easier than I had thought it would be.

“Lord Corlys must have known that my child would take the name Targaryen upon inheriting the Throne. This is just speeding up the process. Besides, he has calmed a little these past few days.” By which I meant he had managed to say hello without looking to be on the verge of stroking out. Any good will my plan to murder Otto had brought me was likely gone though.

“The egg helped, I think,” Laena mused. Surprisingly, Viserys had brought up the egg situation before Rhaenys or Laena could. He’d been happy to approve an egg from one of Meleys’ clutch being given to the young boy. A happiness that had taken most of the Velaryons off guard.

I still hadn’t told them he knew. He hadn’t pushed the issue recently and he’d spent most of Rhaenys’ thank you speech looking at me like a puppy I’d just kicked.

Regardless, Lucerys was now the proud owner of a dark red dragon’s egg. Laena was desperate for it to hatch, I could tell she was, it was probably inconceivable to her that any child of hers would be denied the sky. Lucerys, on the other hand, liked kicking it and drooling on it and that was the extent of his expectations from the egg.

“Another Dragon rider for House Velaryon and the Blacks,” I said as Lucerys released my shawl and swiped at my hand as I shifted his position again, struggling to account for his wriggling. I moved my fingers over his face to distract him, dodging the pudgy hands attempting to seize them.

Babies were bizarre creature. He couldn’t even see my face or focus on my hand yet he was still doing his best to catch it.

“How goes your secret project?” I asked once I’d grown bored of the chase and surrendered my little finger to his toothless gnawing. Laena raised an eyebrow before snorting.

“It goes well, if you must know. But I’m still not telling you what it is!” I hadn’t even been able to pull it out of Joffrey beyond an assurance it wasn’t a plan to overthrow me and place her Mother on throne or anything equally as drastic. He seemed rather amused by it all, actually.

“I shall get the details out of you soon enough,” I told her. Laena smirked in response to my challenge and poured me some juice. I relinquished Lucerys back to her, grimacing when I had to wrestle him for possession of my finger.

“You’ll be a good mother, Rhaenyra. I know it,” she said as she calmed Lucerys’ fussing. I took a drink of the juice and suppressed a sigh. “Look how good you are with little Luke!”

“He chews on me, Laena, I’m not sure that’s the world’s greatest indicator of a good mother,” I said dryly.

“Luke loves you, he’s always smiling away when you hold him,” Laena said as if that was that on the matter. Said baby was snatching at his mother’s hair and still fighting sleep as valiantly as any knight. “Now, do you think we should have lunch?”

I groaned at the reminder. Breakfast had been an ordeal this morning and my stomach was reminding me of that fact as well as the fact that it still thoroughly intended to challenge anything I put in it.

“That depends, Laena, on whether it’s trout wrapped in bacon with a side of greens.” Laena had the sense to flush a little at the rebuke. “Because we’ve had that everyday I’ve been here this week.”

“We can have anything you want, Your Grace,” she said, voice as sweet as honey. I let her see my narrowed eyes before she broke down giggling. “Honestly, Rhaenyra, we can. I just want you well for when the babe comes.”

“I have Alannys to lecture me about food Laena, what I need is someone to bring me illicit bacon,” I grumbled. Old Laena would have brought me illicit bacon and eaten it with me as we hid from Joffrey’s all knowing eye and Alanny’s disappointment. New Laena was frustratingly responsible.

“You don’t need me to obtain bacon, Rhaenyra,” she said primly and I grimaced at the implication. Sadly, it was true I was putting on weight. It was starting to get just slightly noticeable. Dresses that needed to be let out, the slight thickening of my features, my stomach now more pronounced - it frightened me. Rhaenyra in canon had lost her looks in pregnancy. Admittedly, she had three in rapid succession.

I hoped I’d have as much ease losing the baby weight as Laena was having. I may have to start thinking on a change of dresses. My Vale style that served to show off my figure whilst leaving everything to the imagination with occasional reach cut thrown in was rapidly becoming unsuitable.

“What gave it away?” I asked ruefully and she snorted in amusement, wiggling her fingers and getting Lucerys’ attention away from her hair.

“We could stroll down to the bakery tomorrow? Something to look forward to after your check-up,” she suggested. I gave her a thin smile and finished my juice.

“You do not want me to stay in my room and panic all day and you are using unfair tactics to stop me.” I was somewhat grateful. She may not be willing to indulge me anymore but at least she wasn’t going to let me suffer alone. Also I really, really liked those honey almond tarts they sold.

“When it comes to your babe you lose yourself to easily to panic. It was why I was advised to keep you from Lucerys’ birth, you know?” I breathed in relief at that. I had not known but that sounded like something Joffrey might have done.

“Your husband?” I asked. Laena shook her head.

“Gerardys actually. Joffrey was the one who assigned Alannys to you. He said she was perfect for dealing with panicky new mothers.” she asked, handing Lucerys back over. He wiggled again as I held him close before chewing on my shawl once more.

“And here I was thinking I’d requested her. Remind me to punch him for it later,” I said, then bent my face to Lucerys, putting on a high pitched voice. “Yes! Remind me to punch your Father! Interfering little toerag he is! Yes!”

Instead, Lucerys punched me square on the nose with a ear splitting screech and Laena nearly fell out of her seat with laughter. 

“How is Joffrey with Lucerys?” I asked when she, and my ears, had recovered. 

“He’s fantastic. He reads to him every night. Little Luke loves him,” Her tone was quiet and soft. I was not sure of their relationship in truth. Joffrey played the perfect husband in the way Laenor did and Laenor had confided in me that Joffrey did not have the same issues with women that he had. Laena did, of course, but… well, it seemed terribly uncouth to just ask.

“I note Rhea is still showering him with gifts,” I remarked, causing the girl to blush a deep red. That Rhea doted on Lucerys like he was a favoured nephew of sorts was a source of endless embarrassment to Laena and always fun to bring up in conversation. “Has she mentioned anything to you about marriage?”

“No, no she only asks about Luke,” she mumbled as I fought the urge to giggle. 

With Daemon’s flight from the Stepstones and his destruction of the The Triarchy and Dornish troops, Viserys had given in. Rhea was a free woman now. The Lady of Runestone, heirless and still of childbearing age, was hot property on the marriage market. Rhea seemed to be enjoying being courted though, she was taking her time. I guess she didn’t want to risk another awful husband.

“I…” Laena’s voice caused me to glance up. “I never did thank you, did I?”

“For?” I asked, somewhat confused.

She flushed.

“You… you may have been after my dragon and I am still upset about that but… but it would have been bad if you had let me go to him. So… thank you. I do not know what I would have done had I been stuck on that island with him as he descended into madness. I… I can not say that I would not have followed him.”


	62. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 57

Marya had been in my service just over a year and I had to say, I was beyond impressed with what she’d done in that time. I could even forgive her ongoing one-sided romance with Helaena’s sworn sword because she’d taken my vague ideas of charity and created… well, the best way I could describe it was a sort of proto-social care.

Clinics to help with family planning, several orphanages, soup kitchens and food banks. There were even talks of expanding the clinics to deal with minor injuries and sicknesses! All in my name.

No wonder the people of the capitol loved me.

The children of the Mother Ysella House for Orphans lined up before me, the boys and girls all dressed as neatly as they could be and freshly bathed. It was sort of sweet the way they all gave their clearly hastily taught bows and obeisances, sloppy but enthusiastic. Even if the Royal family lived in this city an orphan from Fleabottom was never likely to see a member in their lives.

“So polite and courteous, you have done well with these children.” At my praise the two septas blushed and stammered their thanks. Until Marya and Falena had gotten involved this orphanage had been run down and neglected, the bare minimum provided by the Faith to ensure the children did not die of starvation or exposure. At fourteen, they’d leave whether they had homes or not, jobs or not… as like as not half would have been dead over the next year. King’s Landing is not a nice place to be if you lack a home or income.

A grim reminder of how fortunate I was to be a Princess, even one that will face a succession war, than Joe Peasant on the streets. In truth, it still wasn’t that much better but the building was well maintained, everyone had sturdy and clean clothes and two warm meals a day.

“We are very proud of the children here,” said Septa Alayne. “And we can not thank Your Grace enough for the money and aid you have provided.”

“I hardly deserve your thanks, Lady Stokeworth and Lady Waynwood are the architects. I believe we all should attempt to be more like them,” I hastily assured the woman. Marya beamed and Falena smiled but I was honest enough to feel a twist of guilt. I was only here on this tour because my appointment was this afternoon and I desperately needed something to take my mind off of the whole business.

“Your Grace is truly too kind and modest too,” Marya began. “It was her actions that inspired my own. When I came into her service she was working towards this goal also.”

And now I feel really guilty. I am probably a bad person.

“And now we have… three such orphanages?” I said and Septa Alayne nodded. “Well, every little bit helps. I am always a believer in kindness to others.”

“Would you like to hear the children sing you a hymn, Your Grace?” Septa Alayne asked and I surveyed the row of hopeful faces and put a practised smile into place.

“Of course, I would be honoured!”

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard fifty children under the age of fourteen trying their best to sing a hymn most only know by memory but the result is… not that great. I recognised the tune at least. A hymn to the Mother. I suppressed the lurch of fear that bought and managed to smile throughout it.

Afterwards I lavished praise on them all, gave them all a silver star each and went to make my way back to the horses alongside Marya and Falena, both who looked more pleased than I have ever seen them.

“We’re hoping to acquire another by next month. Ser Joffrey has been endlessly helpful in that regard,” Marya told me as we began moving. Ser Steffon Darklyn and my men moving into position around us like silent but very well armed and armoured shadows.

Viserys had insisted he would not pry into what I did with Ser Steffon. That he was my white knight as Cole had once been but I was still hesitant to let him in on everything. It helped that Joffrey thought he was honest for now. He may not remain so if Viserys changed his mind.

“Truly a worthy endeavour. I must ask though, surely the funding I donate does not pay for all of this?” At my question, Falena snorted.

“In truth, your direct funding covers a quarter of the costs. Ser Joffrey gives us his excess budget but we also get donations from your Blacks and the Faith.”

“Falena is the one that covers our finances if you couldn’t tell,” chuckled Marya.

“And here I thought the Faith objected to everything I did these days,” I observed, noting the two ladies immediately scowl. Eustace had been on the High Septon’s business that day. Now the preachers whispered of unnatural potions and devices, of soulless women divorced from the Faith. My attempts to expand the midwives beyond King’s Landing and the Narrow Sea had foundered somewhat. What before had been a wildfire was now an uphill climb and they had not stopped there.

My association with the Wisdoms, my charities, the accusations surrounding Laenor’s tastes, Laena being pregnant before marriage… nothing was sacred to the rumour-mongering idiots. It was Alicent’s work, I was sure of it but in this case I could believe she had started it off long before Laenor had humbled her. It still did not make it any easier not to punch her teeth down her throat.

“Septon Eustace objected, Your Grace, but you will find more than a few members of the Faith in this city who appreciate the work those women do. That we do,” Falena told me, her voice hard. Even Marya’s permanently cheery face had gone dark.

“Have I kicked over a wasps nest?” I asked and Marya’s laugh was actually bitter.

“If it weren’t for Septon Patrek we wouldn’t even have the funding we get now!” she cried. I quirked an eyebrow up in interest.

“Septon Patrek?”

“He leads the members of the Faith that are willing to work with us. Something of a firebrand,” Falena sniffed. Oh? Division in the ranks of the Faith? Do tell me everything you know.

“It’s nothing too serious, Your Grace. Septon Patrek is… he is openly critical of the Faith but he holds a lot of sway in the city. He cares for it’s people in a way that most do not,” Marya elaborated at my raised eyebrow, misunderstanding my concern. Then she added in a guilty tone. “He preaches from Visenya’s Hill.”

“Critical?” I mused. That he preached from Visenya’s Hill was interesting. There was always someone up there trying to raise a great scandal, either against the nobility, foreigners or the Faith itself. They usually burned themselves out after a few months. That or got themselves killed or arrested. Or, I reminded myself sternly, managed to raise such a crowd that they successfully invade the Dragonpit and end the lives of five adult dragons.

“It is… not quite respectable. But he believes in our cause, to feed and clothe the innocent. To ensure children can have a childhood and that women are not left to die!” I blinked in surprise at the normally taciturn Falena’s outburst.

“Perhaps I will meet with this Septon Patrek, if he is willing,” I said, in way of apology. Playing with the Faith was dangerous, Cersei had discovered that but investigating his whole deal might be worth it if it means I can get Eustace off my back. I just have to remember not to let him get within five metres of the words Faith Militant.

“I will ask him, Your Grace, the next time we meet,” Falena assured me, relaxing slightly. “He thinks well of you.”

“Thank you, Falena. Truly, I think I got the better of your father when you entered my service.” Marya giggled at that. It was hard to remember Falena was the giant Lord Denys’ daughter. Falena may be tall but she was slender. Lord Denys was a monster of a man. Rumour had it the Mountain Clans feared him more than the rest of the Falcons put together. The thought of the Vale brought a pang of loss. I already missed my little sister but Jeyne reported she had arrived safe and was doing well.

Jeyne had also reported that she would consider the marriage issue. Admittedly in a stiffly formal letter that had set my heart plumetting into my stomach. It had been far from the teasing tone we often took with one another.

“He hasn’t complained yet,” Falena assured me, startling me from thoughts about how badly I had messed up with my cousin. “Is it not time for your checkup soon?”

I suppressed the urge to bolt as I was escorted home. It made me wonder if the guards around me were for my protection or to stop me from bolting to Syrax and running away to live in Essos where no one would ever require me to have children.

A girl can dream.

Laena was waiting for me and Marya greeted her with a hug before cooing over little Lucerys. Falena was more reserved but most of my ladies, even the sharp tongued Maris Grafton, were enchanted by the little tyke. I honestly don’t know why, all he did was sleep and eat.

You know they’ve even stopped playing cards in their spare time? They just all moon over Lucerys now! It’s weird, okay?

Once Marya and Falena had relinquished me into Laena’s custody they were bundled off for a nice meal at Velaryon expense and I was all but frogmarched into my sometimes rooms and changed into the thin white gown that Alannys insisted I wear to every checkup. I tried not to resent the fact it felt tighter every time I put it on.

“May I?” asked Laena as I sat on the bed.

“May you what?” She gestured to my stomach and gave a limp wave of her hand. I got the meaning though. “Oh! If you want? Honestly, if even I haven’t felt anything I doubt you will.”

“It is odd to think it’s Laenor’s child, my niece or nephew, in there,” she murmured as her hand fell to my stomach. “Rhaenyra, has he said anything to you about Lucerys?”

“No? Why?”

“He-” She was cut off as the door opened and Alannys stepped in. The maid who had escorted her bowed and then left.

“Your Grace, how are you feeling today?” she asked as she dropped her bag down. “How is the sickness?”

Straight to the point then. I could appreciate that.

“It is better but still not… great,” I sighed. She raised an eyebrow at my tone. “And everything itches, I’m swelling up, putting on weight, hair is growing where it shouldn’t and I still can’t be five minutes away from the privy at any given time.”

“Hmmm, that’s all quite common, pronounced but common,” she said and began rummaging in her bag.

“Why does anyone even get pregnant?” I groused. Alannys ignored me in favour of producing a leather bound book with a flourish.

“For the babe at the end,” murmured Laena. “For their own little Lucerys.”

“Of course and given how everything has gone so far you’ll have Westeros’ best behaved baby and I’ll have some screaming spawn of the Seven Hells.” Her hand fell on my shoulder as she attempted to comfort me. I caught it and tangled our fingers together briefly. “I am unsettled. Pay me no mind.”

“I understand your fear, Rhaenyra, I truly do. Please believe me when I say the babe is worth all the troubles pregnancy brings.” It was nice of her to try but I couldn’t see myself as a mother. Even if I fed him or her myself they would still spend most of their childhood being raised by strangers.

“Your Grace, do I bother asking you what you have been eating or should I simply request a report from Lady Laena?”

“I don’t have the chance to not eat what you require me too. Laena persuaded my Father to enforce a ratio of fried food to recommended food.” Laenor, Rhaenys and even Corlys might have helped. Traitors, every last one of them. Of course, that’s not to say I’m not bribing several of the kitchen staff to bring me the forbidden bacon… and egg and mushrooms and sausages.

I wish potatoes existed. Then I could have hash browns… Truly it is a mystery as to where this weight has come from.

Don’t judge me! Do you know what it’s like to have food cravings? That deep seated need for something and then when you finally get it… the satisfaction is toe-curling. It’s like a nice warm bath after a long day level of satisfying.

“Your Grace you must approach your pregnancy with restraint. I know common misconception holds you should indulge your cravings but this is simply not true!” Alannys told me, scribbling in her book.

“I have been eating fish and eggs and leafy greens and all that!” I protested. Alannys gave me an extremely doubtful look before producing her prized stethoscope. It was cold as she poked at my chest and then my stomach with it and noted something down in her records.

She had a frown on her face that I did not like one bit.

Next, she pushed me gently back onto the bed and pushed aside the gown slightly, hands resting on my abdomen before she began poking and prodding over the swell of my stomach. I glared at it, annoyed it was even there.

Damnable sweet tooth and damned craving for fried goods.

Honestly, if Rhaenyra in canon had to deal with this then I doubt it was pregnancies that ruined her looks because I very much doubted that woman understood restraint… or the concept of calories.

Huh, I should remember that. It’s not something I added to the book but knowledge of calories is probably pretty damn important. Another thing for Joffrey to stack onto whatever Wisdom he eventually recruits as a proxy for the iodine discovery.

I rely on that man too much.

I also really dislike the growing frown on Alannys’ face. Calories are not as distracting as I’d hoped they’d be.

I jumped as Laena’s hand slipped into mine and squeezed it reassuringly. She must have noticed me tensing as Alannys removed her hands and tugged the gown back into position.

“I think… are you sure you have not felt the baby quicken?” she asked, tone careful.

“Very sure but surely it is too early? This is my first time after all.” Alannys’ eyes flickered up to Laena and I wanted to throw up.

“Your Gra- Rhaenyra, I need you to stay very calm.” My heart leapt into my throat as my heart rate promptly went skyhigh. Why must people insist on saying things like that!? It was on par with ‘We need to talk’!

“I am not calm, I can not be calm! Tell me what is wrong!” I demanded, hating the way my breath was stuttering in my throat and the way I wanted to flee and cry.

“You are showing already. Most new Mother’s do not show until far after,” she said slowly. Dread pooled in my stomach and my laugh was a little desperate and high pitched. “Your symptoms are quite pronounced; the sickness, the swelling…”

“I am not showing! I’m not! It’s just… puppy fat! Laena is to blame for this! She buys me sweets!” Alannys bit her lip and I realised tears were forming in my eyes because I knew, I knew, what she was about to say and I wanted her to say anything but.

“Rhaenyra, we have to put forward the idea you may be carrying more than one babe.”


	63. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 58

I awoke in my bed within the Velaryon manse, covers tucked up around my neck and sighed in relief. Clearly it was all just some horrible dream. I wasn’t carrying twins and I was definitely going to cut down on the bacon, eggs and sausages… and even those honey covered treats Laena keeps giving me!

Clearly this was some kind of divine intervention.

Well message heard loud and clear and I’ll stay away from anything coated in honey or fat going forward, mystery-god-who-is-also-very-benevolent-and-would-not-give-the-woman-terrified-of-childbirth-twins. I lay there in the covers, staring at the canopy of the bed for a while, mind blank.

And then I whimpered and immediately hated myself for it.

Twins.

I… I couldn’t do this! I couldn’t have twins! I’d only just gotten used to the idea of one! I can’t handle two! Oh gods, please, plea-

The door opened and I pulled the covers over my face to hide the tears streaking down my face. A tap accompanied the footsteps. Joffrey then.

“I thought it best if I kept Laenor, Laena and Rhaenys out,” he grunted, lowering himself into the chair by the fire, if the shuffling sounds were any indication. “Laenor and Rhaenys have not stopped congratulating each other since Laena told them.”

“She should not have told them,” I said in a sour voice. The effect was rather ruined by the fact my voice was muffled and slightly out of breath.

“Forgive her, I believe she would spontaneously set herself alight trying to keep that secret,” he said. I heard the sound of paper being turned and a quill scribbling. I lay under the covers in silence until finally I felt somewhat more put together. Cautiously, I poked my head out.

Joffrey was indeed sitting before the fire, an array of papers spread out on the table before him. He was eyeing the one he was holding critically and facing away from me.

“Does… does anyone else know?” I asked in a small voice. He put the paper down and twisted back to look at me.

“No. Only Laenor, Rhaenys and myself. Alannys swore herself to secrecy.” I rose on wobbly feet and dropped into the seat opposite, feeling as if I was in some kind of horrifying nightmare and any moment now I’d wake to better news.

“Viserys would probably throw a feast if he knew,” I said mournfully, staring into the flames. Joffrey snorted in derision, which managed to draw a smile from me. The knight had never forgiven Viserys for his actions after the Vale and bringing him up in conversation was bound to get a frown out of him at least.

“Alicent will be furious at least. How do you wish to proceed? Does it change our plan of action?”

“You’re trying to distract me?” I realised and he gave me a guilty smile. I took a few deep breaths to centre myself. When I spoke again, my voice was still breathless. “Alright, I’ll play ball… First, start me off with how your work is going so far?”

“Well enough. Alicent’s Greens are making themselves scarce but the previously most vocal ones are falling to me easily,” he explained. “Court gossip does well to hide my actions.”

The less cautious speculated it was Alicent behind Correy and not Daemon. The downright stupid suggested Daemon had been working with Alicent to bring me down. I say downright stupid because if that ever gets back to Viserys tongues will start coming out.

Very fond of cutting out tongues is my dearest Father.

“Be careful with that, Viserys will put a stop to it eventually and I want Alicent to be the guilty looking one,” I warned him. He smiled and nodded, making a quick note on one of his sheets. “Ultimately, my goal is to secure the Red Keep and the Small Council to myself. Like Laenor says, once we have the capital the rest will follow.”

“Too true,” Joffrey replied, pride leaking into his voice. “Speaking of Greens however…”

“You have something in mind for Otto?” My voice was eager and vicious.

“I do, even though I must once again point out that this is revenge. We stand upon the precipice of victory and this foolhardy action may set us back to the beginning.” His tone was harder than usual and I flushed under his gaze but held it.

“She would have killed Laenor. She would have had my child declared a bastard. If this is revenge, Joffrey, it is well earned,” I said finally. He just sighed in response and glared at the wall two inches past my ear. 

“Very well. Understand I am only doing this because you’ll do something regardless and it is my son on the line should you fail,” he said finally. “I will require some action on your part.”

“Go on.” 

“I need your father to hold a tourney.” I frowned at him but nodded. Why he needed a tourney was beyond me and I sensed he’d delight in not telling me as revenge for making him do it. I would have to be careful to follow his advice in other areas most diligently to compensate for this.

“As for securing the Small Council, that will be more difficult. Mellos will have to die for a new Grand Maester to be appointed and even then our ability to influence the choice of his replacement in non-existent. Criston Cole is on his last warning, Ser Darklyn tells me Viserys is looking for an excuse to remove his cloak from him but that relies on Viserys. The only one we can really attack right now is Jasper Wylde,” Joffrey told me, leaning back and tenting his fingers. “But the man is annoyingly clean. He doesn’t even frequent the brothels and my counterpart will be eager to protect him.”

“Find something. The damnable Harlsbury case is still going on and it would be nice to settle that in the daughter’s favour.” At this point, settling it without bloodshed would be nice. The nephew, we had discovered too late, had arranged to marry the daughter of a knight sworn to the Brackens.

The daughter had recently declared herself Lady Harlsbury and married a minor cousin of the Blackwoods. You can probably guess what happened next. The Brackens had gotten involved claiming they needed to protect their vassal’s rights, the Blackwoods had declared they would protect Lady Harlsbury from her cousin…

Yes, no bloodshed would be good. Being able to even sit in these meetings would be better. Corlys was an adequate go between though, even if he did deliver his reports through gritted teeth.

“I will. Even if I have to escort a pair of whores to his rooms myself,” he promised. “My acquisitions proceed at a excellent pace.”

“Good, do you own all the brothels in Westeros now or just most of them?” He threw his head back and laughed at that. That smile that flickered over my face was mostly relief.

“I think you underestimate how many brothels there are in Westeros, Rhaenyra,” he chuckled. “But I own a good few and they have proved extremely useful. I actually bring it up because Maris Grafton came to me with an interesting idea.”

“Maris? Ugh, I still haven’t decided if I forgive her for the rumour business yet. I can not believe you did not pick up on that,” I said, slumping back in my chair and feeling more and more like myself as my mind turned from panic to politics.

“I also… struggle to believe I did not. Regardless, the idea has merit.” Which was Joffrey for ‘It’s a good idea and I want to do it but you explode when not consulted about these things’.

“Go ahead then, what is this idea?” I asked.

“Gambling.”

Ah. Something tells me that if half of Joffrey’s activities ever get made public I’ll be the ruler blamed for all of King’s Landing’s future addiction problems. Taverns, brothels and proto-casinos.

“The House always wins,” I said before I could stop myself. At Joffrey’s raised eyebrow, I snorted. “The idea that when it comes to gambling, the only one who wins in the long run is the one running the whole show.”

“Of course. The only people who make money gambling are those who never place a bet, after all.” Joffrey said. “But I’m not too interested in the money. I care about encouraging the bad habits of noblemen and learning their secrets.”

“Surely not outright blackmail?” I asked, suddenly worried but he shook his head.

“Nothing so crass but noblemen in debt, seeking out a sympathetic ear…”

“Point taken, Joffrey,” I said. “Do it then. Get Maris involved if she’s passed your stringent tests. She has been lost since my ladies stopped playing cards.”

“Poor Alys,” Joffrey sighed. “She’s lost a Lord’s ransom in silver to Maris.”

I snickered. I was pretty sure both Strongs had lost a lot of money. So had Laena, actually. Marya and Falena less so because they didn’t bet as much and were much more risk averse. I worried less about Maris these days. Joffrey had turned her life inside out and all he’d found was a slightly worrying loyalty to Jeyne Arryn rather than me.

The kind of loyalty that would see her take a trip out of the Moon Door than risk betraying her. Given that Jeyne had ended Grafton power in Gulltown I did wonder where that came from but Joffrey had assured me she was loyal to me as long as Jeyne was.

“How go the Wisdoms? Jerrett has been silent for too long, I fear,” I asked dragging my thoughts from the Vale, Jeyne and Helaena.

“The crops have gone through their first rotation. Local farmers are reportedly impressed by the increase in yield and a few of the more adventurous ones are seeking to copy it. Only a small fraction though. The rest have adopted a wait and see stance.” I nodded along. We had predicted this so it wasn’t too upsetting.

“The Seaweed farm is still being set up but the samples Laenor had harvested from Driftmark have helped in their mission to perfect the glass.” I waited for the ‘but’. “But they are having issues with the quality at the current time. The glass shatters too easily.”

I sank down into my chair and glared at the fire. I had introduced the book over a year ago now and I still had nothing meaningful from it. Actually, no. I was overlooking my midwives and the germ theory but damn it all, I had hoped for more.

“And the less said about the printing press the better,” I said firmly, cutting off Joffrey as he was about to launch into his next topic. Gods, that was embarrassing. I’d been so concerned with my plan to print the Seven-pointed Star and win the Faith I had neglected to look into supply.

Specifically, paper and ink. More specifically, there wasn’t enough of it. There weren’t enough paper mills or ink makers to feed even one press. Not to mention that acquiring experts to set up our own supply was proving… difficult. Guess where all the paper and ink makers lived?

If you guessed the place where most paper and ink is consumed, right next to Westeros’ biggest centre of learning and repository of books, you guessed right! I really shouldn’t need explain how the chief Black was having a hard time extracting people and skills from the heart of Green territory.

“The marriage game then?” Joffrey asked. Fear pooled in my stomach once more. The knowledge I was having twins at least… I took a deep breath.

“If they are boys the first goes to Borros Baratheon,” I started, voice shaky. “The second… I am not sure of. I only planned for one.”

“If they are girls?”

“The Reynes. I want that check on the Lannisters.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope for a boy and a girl?” I smiled in response. 

“Then we are the luckiest people in Westeros,” I chuckled, not really feeling all that mirthful.

I’d spent a lot of the last month thinking on marriages. My firstborn daughter and firstborn son would set the tone for the rest of my children. It should revolt me to promise away children not even born yet but… but if I did not play the game they would die.

I had to tell myself that. I had to remember that. 

I could promise the Lannisters a Queen or promise the Baratheons a Queen. Alicent would take the one I did not in all likelihood. Maybe it was a book bias that made me gravitate toward the Baratheons and I was just rationalising but I didn’t have a balance to the Baratheons in the Stormlands. I could check the Lannisters with the Reynes.

And also, now that I think on it, if I had the Stormlands, the southern Crownlands would fall in line too.

“Interesting.” Was all Joffrey had to say as he noted it down. “I’ll put forth the offer to both of them, quietly and discreetly. I wouldn’t expect much back until you birth the children, then expect both to send answers.”

“Because I’ve proved myself fertile.” That came out more bitter than intended and Joffrey’s eyes softened.

“It is distasteful but it is expected. We can change the dance eventually but for now we must follow the steps.” His tone was sympathetic.

“That was very poetic,” I teased and he flushed slightly.

“Laenor has been trying his hand at composing poems,” he admitted. “They’re awful.”

I laughed until I cried. I couldn’t help it. It was probably hysterics or a mental breakdown but I really couldn’t help it. A knock on the door sounded as I finally managed to get myself under control.

“Joff, is everything well?” came Laenor’s strained question. “I heard… laughter?”

I sighed and took a few more deep breaths, letting the warmth of the fire wash over me. I was having twins. Hopefully just twins. Laenor knew. He was happy. Laena was happy. Rhaenys was probably at ‘invent aerial advertising and tell the whole of Westeros’ happy.

The door cracked open a bit and Laenor’s face poked around the door, his eyes seeking Joffrey and then myself. Myself who sat frozen in my chair, tears streaking down my cheeks once more. He moved so swiftly to my side that my brain almost didn’t process his movements, taking my hand and tangling our fingers together.

“How are you? Laena says you were quite overwhelmed.” Probably an understatement, I’d fainted in a panic. “It will be okay. I will be with you every step of the way. Our babes will be perfect. You will be a fine mother.”

I let him hold me as the tears and the shaking came again. I really shouldn’t keep doing this. He wasn’t ever going to love me the way he loved Joffrey. He was making an effort but I would never have his heart. Not truly and yet I still clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder, because at least when he said it would be alright I could kind of believe him.


	64. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 59

Court was busy the next day. Viserys sat atop the Iron Throne and Alicent below him, still playing the qood queen. Still on her best behaviour. It should not be a surprise she was clutching Daeron and Aemond close since Helaena’s departure for the Vale.

Rumour had it that Aemond had grown even worse since he learned he was to squire with the Tullys. Not even the lure of friendship with a Prince would see other children flocking to him anymore. Hopefully, a good few years with a family that prized Family, Duty and Honour above all else would straighten him out, turn him from the course of the monster he had been in canon and looked set to become now.

Gods, he was only five. 

We made our obeisances before the twisted monstrosity forged in Balerion’s flames. Viserys greeted me loudly and proudly but frowned when I asked to speak with him in private. It certainly got the rest of the court muttering away to themselves.

It seemed like everyone was holding their breath. Viserys had torn Alicent’s children from her and the Greens had lost immense amounts of prestige as a result. The Blacks were triumphant, the only question for the court now was how I would deliver the killing blow.

They would learn soon enough.

We both followed Viserys as he lead us into the empty Small Council chamber with a worried look on his round face. Ser Steffon and Ser Arryk guarding the door as we made our way inside. According to Laenor it had been Ser Steffon who had carried me to my rooms after I had received the news.

Suddenly sick with nerves once more, I tried to focus on his rage inducing moustache and not the news I had to deliver. It didn’t quite work.

“Daughter? Is everything well?” he asked, face shining with genuine concern as he lowered himself into a seat. I opened my mouth to speak but the words died momentarily and Laenor took my hand, kissing the back of it gently.

“Take your time,” he murmured. Viserys watched him with an odd expression before turning to me, eyes soft and an encouraging smile in place.

“I had a checkup by a midwife yesterday,” I managed. “Everything is well. More than well. There is some news you need to hear though. Suspected news.”

At that Viserys looked reassured and leant back in his chair, attentive for any information about his future grandchildren. Something tells me he’s going to spoil them rotten. Hell, in canon, he had to have known the Strongs were bastards and he still spoiled them rotten.

“The midwife believes there is a possibility that I am carrying more than one babe. Just a possibility though, we may yet be wrong,” My voice was shakier than I wanted it to be and Laenor squeezed my hand again. I risked a glance at his face and tried not to smile at the pride and happiness I saw there.

Something told me these kids wouldn’t only be spoiled rotten by their grandfather.

“Twins,” repeatedly Viserys faintly. I nodded and watched as his face went through a journey of emotions. Delight, happiness… fear. I tried not to feel satisfied at that last one. Finally though, he settled on joy and struggled from his seat. “Twins!”

He picked me up and twirled me around, almost bear hugging me, sending my stomach churning in unhappiness. Then he advanced on Laenor, much to my husbands bewilderment and discomfort. I fancied I heard the breath leave his lungs and Viserys failed to hold back as he did with me, twirling him around with evident glee.

“Twins, Rhaenyra!” he repeated when Laenor finally wriggled free. I forced a smile at the joy on his face before remembering Joffrey’s request from the night before. Now seemed like the best time to enact that particular part of the plan.

“Twins. Yes. I’m very excited. Daunted but excited.” I began and he nodded, smile so wide I wondered if he’d break his face. “I was wondering… if it is not an imposition…”

“Nothing could be an imposition now! Two sons for House Targaryen!”

“Or daughters. Either would bring us all great joy!” Laenor hastily cut in and Viserys nodded in response.

“Or daughters, indeed. Tell me what you were hoping for Rhaenyra, if it is within my power I will deliver it too you.”

“I was wondering if we might not have a small tourney to celebrate my pregnancy?” Laenor’s eyebrows shot up at that.

“Small! I shall throw the grandest tourney in your name, daughter!” Oh, I should have seen that coming. Vision of having to wait for months before it was thrown danced before my eyes. Joffrey would need it much sooner to draw Otto to him, not that I could see how a tourney would help.

“Perhaps not that large! A reasonable affair, my stomach is still delicate,” I said and Viserys beamed at me once more, nodding, before he laughed again.

“Twins! Will you announce it to the court yet?” he asked, eye bright. I caught Laenor’s eye.

“It is not confirmed yet. It is only the midwives suspicion,” he told Viserys. Viserys raised an eyebrow at that but the grin didn’t fall from his face.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard all about those midwives from Eustace. Old bore that he is. If one of these ladies can figure out you’re having twins and get you through that birth safely I’ll pull a Queen Elinor to support them if I have too,” he boomed. “If you announce it, I’ll back you to the hilt in this, Rhaenyra.”

“That is very kind, Father, but I think I will wait.” The thought of everyone knowing… It made my stomach turn in terror once more. He nodded, smile dimming a little but then cheered again.

“Well, we’ll still have your tournament though!” He said. “Anything for my girl and her future children!”

That would have to be good enough. He held me close one last time and once again waxed lyrical about how proud he was. He even extended that pride to Laenor, which sent my husband blushing. Once word got out I was having more than one babe, Laenor would be considered the manliest of men. I, of course, would not tease him about it at all. 

We followed Viserys out back towards the court, our respective Kingsguard falling in behind us, listening to him chuckling to himself and occasionally repeating the word ‘twins’ like some kind of maniac. 

“It may have been a mistake to tell him so early,” I murmured to Laenor, low enough so that only he could here it.

“It definitely was. He’d sulk if we did not though. Why a tourney?” he asked back in an equally low voice. “You have never been fond of them in the past?”

“Joffrey asked for one. I’ll explain back at the manse.” I did not want to risk Ser Steffon or Ser Arryk catching onto our plot.

Then we were back in the Throne room, watching as Viserys ascended to the Iron Throne once more in a clearly good mood. Alicent’s suspicious gaze turned to me and I gave her a sweet smile in turn. Her eyes narrowed and she turned her gaze back to Viserys.

Silence fell as the court picked up on his changed mood and an air of expectation grew. His smile only grew wider in response which fed into the expectation. A vicious circle only Viserys could break.

“Attention all!” he called, not really needing to as he had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. “It has come to my attention that we never truly celebrated my daughter’s pregnancy! Now that she is well once more, let us rectify that with a tourney!”

A cheer went up throughout the hall at that news. Viserys certainly attracted courtiers that loved parties, feasts and tourneys. Well, one would not last long at court if you did dislike them. It really put into perspective just how badly Littlefinger fucked the realm that Viserys’ treasury was… not healthy, perhaps, but we wouldn’t be going bankrupt if there was a war or some kind of disaster.

We were certainly not five million dragons in debt, that was for certain. How nobody had sounded the alarm about that sheer mind-boggling number was bizarre. Lyman would have raised the alarm at half a million and not rested until the debt was wrestled down.

Then again, Lyman Beesbury was a saint and he needed to be protected at all costs. Actually, I should probably make sure I have a successor to him. Even if I manage to avoid his death in the Dance he still might not live that long afterwards.

Say it with me: Something to put to Joffrey.

I should probably get another Joffrey too. I should at least give him a push into expanding his full-time employees somewhat. If this plot against Otto is to go off without a hitch, he’ll need all the help he can get. There is his friend to consider too, the one that plays with him. Maris may be a good start if she proves loyal enough with those gambling dens. She has a sharp mind.

“Off in your head again,” came Alicent’s voice. I turned to her with a smile, noting Laenor was distracted with a group of Doves all eager to congratulate him on the duel. A good sign, it meant the Doves were looking for an in with us.

A bad sign for Alicent though.

“A bad habit I’ve yet to break,” I replied stiffly. “Like your bad habit of associating with our mutual enemy’s agents.”

That did crack her facade a little and she half turned away to avoid showing the court her little slip. I caught the rage in her stance though. As I suspected, it was the sting of being Daemon’s pawn that hurt more than the failure. Probably not the punishment though, I reminded myself.

“You have claws today it seems,” she said finally. “And here I thought I would never miss the little girl who would follow me around, begging for attention.”

“You were older, mature and impossibly clever.” I wasn’t lying. Young alicent had been good company and always eager to read with me and share theories back and forth. “Growing up has a way of ruining such perceptions, does it not?”

“I did not come here to trade barbs with you, Rhaenyra,” she started and I interrupted.

“No, you want something else. What I told Father? Or is this about my siblings?” I could see I’d hit the mark when she failed to suppress the look of chagrin.

“He is taking my babes from me,” she hissed. “He will not let me see them, will not let me write to them without my letters being examined! You love your siblings, Rhaenyra, at least speak out for their sake.”

“Oh but he’s right,” the echo of Viserys’ own reasoning for protecting her in turn after her stunt with Correy had her smile become strained once more. “You have ruined them. Poor Aegon is terrified of most things to do with me and Aemond is so quick to violence other children are scared of him.”

“Sending them away will not help that. Do you wish me to beg? I will if it gets me my children back. I will get on my knees before this court and beg you for your help,” she hissed, moving a little closer to me and attempting to seize my hand. 

Somehow I don’t think Viserys would take that well, so I moved my hand away and stepped back.

“Alicent, Rhaenyra, is everything well?” Viserys’ call had us both looking over to him and realising the entire court was almost completely focused on us even if they were pretending to maintain their own conversations.

“Do not worry Father, I will tell her the news!” I called back. That set the court a-chattering again and Viserys smiled at the reminder.

“What news?” demanded Alicent. “Is this what you told him?”

“Yes. Nothing about your children. Something about mine,” I replied. 

“What? What coul- Children. Plural.” She paled at the realisation and became even paler when I smiled in satisfaction. Oh, that was almost worth the panic building in my gut. “How could you possibly know?”

“We do not for sure. My symptoms were more pronounced, I’m already showing about a month and bit early… if the pattern holds they will quicken sooner than most,” I explained, doing my best to seem the pleased mother and not the terrified young woman.

“Twins,” she said faintly. 

“Indeed! Alannys is quite experienced in these matters. Honestly, I do not know why Septon Eustace would speak against her and her kind.” In Alicent’s shock, she failed to cover up the slight flinch at Septon Eustace’s name.

Well, if anything this conversation had been productive. I would definitely need to meet with Septon Patrek now because if I wasn’t mistaken the push back from the Faith was push back from the Hightowers. Well, Joffrey had said half the Most Devout were Reachman. I couldn’t recall if the High Septon had actual links to Old Town or whether he was just a puppet but well, the Hightower’s had held the office so much in years gone by that it wouldn’t surprise me if he was a Hightower cousin of some description.

I really need a PA or something to keep track of this stuff.

“Still, if true it is joyous news. Laenor is over the moon,” I blathered on, doing my best to look like I hadn’t noticed Alicent’s barely concealed look of horror. I was willing to bet she actually knew they were Laenor’s in truth and two trueborn Targaryens to bring to bear against her own two sons?

One of which may well be my future heir? One of which may be Laenor’s? 

That was worth more than a second son and a third son on the marriage market and she damn well knew it. I wonder if she had been relying on those marriages to some degree? Given that panic I would bet the contents of my jewelry box she had.

And to think, that wasn’t my only surprise.


	65. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 60

When Falena had called Septon Patrek a firebrand, I had assumed him the type of preacher that could set his audience alight with religious fervor. One who preached the Seven-pointed Star and actually believed the words he was saying, believed them with such an intensity, you wanted to believe them too. Perhaps those words would be slightly provocative, railing against the corruption of Faith.

And to be fair to Falena, that’s exactly what he was.

But slightly provocative to the Faith was the understatement of the century! How had the two even got involved with the man that stood before me?

He was a man of contradictions, dressed in a Septon’s vestments that were closer to rags yet clearly kept clean and well-maintained. His hair was a vivid red, but clipped short and neat, to match his beard. Happily for my peace of mind, he at least wore shoes.

“People of King’s Landing! I stand before you as an unworthy follower of the Seven-who-are-one! Will you, good people, lend your ears to me and listen to what I have to preach!?” Around me the crowd roared it’s affirmative, setting me shivering.

The crowd reacted to his every movement, pressing in closer as he raised his arms as if to embrace someone. My guards, Ser Steffon in particular, had not liked my idea to visit the Septon in disguise but I’d pushed the issue. Alicent had the Faith her last true redoubt that I could not influence. Now that her Greens were on the back foot, she’d be relying on the Septons and Septas preaching against me more than ever.

I owed it to those who followed me and to my unborn children to at least investigate the possibility of push back in that quarter. Marya and Falena had dutifully reported that Septon Patrek was very interested in meeting me, that my charity work had caught his interest long ago, which did not mean I was about to be as blind as Cersei. The moment he said the words Faith Militant I was out, out and having a word with Viserys about the whole matter to boot.

And so I was cloaked and cowled amongst a crowd of smallfolk, looking up at the latest rabble rouser to preach to his followers on Visenya’s Hill. Next to me, Ser Steffon was dressed in leather and mail, clutching at his sword and eyeing the crowd suspiciously. More of Joffrey’s men were dispersed at points, ready to swing into action if something should go wrong.

I think holy men playing at politics disturbed Ser Steffon. He was a rare breed of knight that took his vows seriously and the idea that his Faith could be bought and sold was not pleasant to him.

“I come to speak to you good people today about justice!” He called, commanding the attention of the crowd once more and allowing his hands to fall to his sides. “What is justice!? For I say to you good people that I have never seen it! That I have spent four and forty years upon this earth and I have seen not one shred of justice!”

The crowd murmured amongst themselves after that and he let them, surveying them all with stern eyes. Clearly not as mad the man that would arise on Rhaenys’ Hill a decade and a half into the future. He knew damn well how to play a crowd too.

If he was not a blind fanatic, as I suspected, he would be useful beyond measure.

“Is it justice that the common man should pay for his sin in silver whilst the Septon who judges him debauches himself, shames himself in the eyes of the Seven!? Is it justice that the man who is supposed the guide the Faith sits in the Starry Sept growing fat off of the gold of evil men who seek divine approval for their actions!? Is it justice that there are those of us who starve whilst the Faith give us the scraps off of their richly laid tables!?”

His face showed clear fury and anger. The crowd hissed and booed along with his words as I began sorting through plans in my head. He let them mutter and growl as he paced up and down.

“Are those cloaked and crowned fools in the Starry Sept truly worshippers of the Seven-who-are-one!? When they sell what little is left of their souls for comfort!? For power!? For hedonism!?” he bellowed. “And their rot only spreads! It spreads down through the Faith poisoning those beneath them! It poisons the Septons and the Septas! It poisons the nobles that lend their ear to them! It poisons the common folk that follow them!”

I’m honestly surprised that this guy has not had his head hacked off by the Faith yet. This is heavy stuff. I might not be overly attached to any particular religion but even part of me wants to gasp in shock. And Ser Steffon is gripping his sword so tightly I fear he means to draw it and start hacking through the crowd.

I think I’ll be having stern words with Marya and Falena about this. Something of a firebrand my arse! Did… did they agree with him? They were quiet and devout ladies, always there. Reliable and dependable. Had they gotten caught up in his rhetoric or were they dancing with him for his money?

“Good people we must reject the creature in the Starry Sept! We must reject the impious and corrupt Most Devout! We must reject the debauched Septons and disgraced Septas! We must embrace our own love for the Seven-who-are-one! We must embrace the teachings of the Seven-pointed Star! We must embrace our own Faith once more!”

The crowd let out a bellowing cheer and the applause was raucous. I joined in, mostly to not stand out. Next to me, Ser Steffon followed my lead, staring up at Septon Patrek with an expression I could not identify. Said Septon was drinking in the adulation of the crowd, raising his arms and beaming at them all like a proud father.

I wanted this man on my side.

Waiting afterwards felt like agony as he made his way through the endless sea of people that wanted to speak to him. Some sought blessings, others sought advice and others still sought aid. Across the entire square begging brothers rattled their bowls, earning a copper or two from those leaving. Even a copper or two was enough for me to wonder at how much he must take with every sermon.

This was how he was helping Marya and Falena pay for their charities, I would assume. I was still having a hard time reconciling this wild Septon that raised such hell against the Faith and the two devout ladies.

I waited until most had gone before approaching him. I had to hand to him, I’d be exhausted if I’d had to deal with half the people he had, yet when I approached he looked completely unaffected. His blue eyes were bright with enthusiasm as he beamed at me like I was his own child.

“And how might I help you, child of the Seven?” he asked, his smile warm and benevolent. I twitched my hand so that he could the ring I wore and I knew he’d understood when he drew a sharp breath and his smile wavered for a moment.

“I find your views on the corruption of the Faith very interesting. Might we discuss it further, Septon?” I asked, hiding my hand once more. “My friends have told me oh-so much about you.”

He let out an explosive breath and peered at my face under my hood before nodding.

“For you? We may discuss it as long as you wish.” We followed along as he led us away from the main square and towards the less ostentatious but still solidly built manses.

The dwelling he did lead us too was clearly the basis for his own ‘Faith’. A large yet austere manse on the very edge of what would be considered the ‘Good’ part of King’s Landing. The manse boasted dormitories for his Septas and Septons, a large meeting hall for him to preach in and from what I could see, quite a few areas for storage.

He led us into what I would assume to be an office of some type. Ser Steffon explored the ‘office’ thoroughly, poking through every corner with a grim expression. Septon Patrek endured his suspicion with an equally grim look but did not comment until my white cloak took up his post outside the room and we both settled into the slightly uncomfortable wooden chairs.

I shook my cloak off, revealing my face in truth.

“I dared not believe…” He murmured. “Falena and Marya are nice girls, dedicated, but I dared not believe they told the truth about the heir to the Iron Throne interested in poor old Septon Patrek.”

“Poor old Septon Patrek? That does sound like the description of a man who delivered a thundering denouncement of the Faith,” I observed and he smiled widely.

“You have me there, Your Grace. I see so much injustice in this world, it feels impossible for me not to speak out about it,” he replied. His voice wasn’t even hoarse and I had to admit I was quite impressed. “Might I congratulate you on your pregnancy, Your Grace?”

“I accept those congratulations gratefully, Septon Patrek,” I replied, hand finding my stomach almost unconsciously. Fifteen weeks in. It seemed time flew by now but I couldn’t think about that. Right now I had to focus.

I thought back to his speech. Manipulating the Faith, or trying too, could make or break a ruler. Jaehaerys had managed it with aplomb, even before he was out of his regency. Cersei had been less so.

I wanted to be Jaehaerys in this situation, if it wasn’t obvious.

“I see similar injustices. It is my fervent hope that my reign as Queen will help the poorest in Westeros,” I said and found I was being honest about that least. “I have begun work to that goal already.”

“You charity or your alchemy? I confess Marya and Falena have been quite tight-lipped on the subject,” Patrek said, leaning forward. I restrained a smile at that. My ladies kept my secrets then, even when in the presence of their ally.

“Both feed into one another, Septon, but I will set your mind at ease. Alchemy is the study of magic using the scientific method. There is no magic involved in what my Wisdom’s study,” I said and he nodded, first hurdle negotiated. “No, what we study is how to improve Westeros. My midwives are the first of many planned improvements!”

“Your midwives have saved many a life, both mother and babe have lived where others may have seen them die. They tell me their ways were taught to them by your own Maester,” he told me and I inclined my head to acknowledge the praise. “Might I speak plainly, Your Grace?”

“Of course, Septon, I would not have it any other way.”

“I am aware of the grudge that the Faith proper seems to bear you currently. I consider it further proof of their divergence from the true path that the Faith should follow,” he said. “I even have an idea of who bought and paid for your spiritual assassination.”

My answering smile was strained. He knows exactly what I’m doing and why then. As I suspected, no blind fanatic.

“You speak truly,” I admitted. “But it seems that our goals do align and I would still seek your aid in this. I hope to be a monarch that works closely with the Faith to strengthen my people. I want to make Westeros a better and kinder place.”

His almost fatherly smile was back in place as he ruminated on that declaration. Finally he nodded, coming to some sort of decision.

“I have not found any fault in your actions so far. The Faith as it is now is a rotting bloated thing. If we can put it to rights together, you shall have my endless loyalty, Your Grace,” he promised. I restrained my sigh of relief and gave him a more genuine smile. Still, there was one more thorny issue I needed answers on before I could conclude this an entirely successful meeting.

But how to bring it up without offending the man…

“It occurs to me, Septon Patrek, that your sermons atop Visenya’s Hill may attract unwanted attention soon enough,” I prompted and he gave me a pained look in turn.

“In truth, Your Grace, they already have. The City Watch endlessly harass my people, knights in the service of some unknown lord frequently threaten violence.” His face was troubled and I nodded along.

It would only be a matter of time before someone killed him.

“Perhaps I could arrange for some sort of guard. A way to start our relationship, with the heir to the Throne protecting the heir to this dying Faith.” His answering smile was sharp.

“I have no swords in my service and do not intend on raising any. The Faith’s time of violence and war is long past. If you would protect me and mine, Your Grace, I would be happy for it.” Oh, thank the Seven.

“To the future and an ever closer relationship then?” I offered, extending my hand.

“Indeed, Your Grace, indeed!” he affirmed, taking my hand in turn and shaking it.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t lead an armed rebellion, finish off my dragons and then take half my city to boot.


	66. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I forgot to add yesterdays chapter. Another one will be added today as well.

“Security is heavy today,” I remarked. My companion made a disinterested hum, too busy scanning the crowd around us. For what, I did not know.

The tourney grounds were already heaving with spectators, peddlers and the usual crowds that the prospect of seeing men knock each other into the dirt would bring. Even trailed by a white cloak and several guards didn’t garner us any particular attention. They had not come to see me or even the King, they had come to see knights from all over the Seven kingdoms and the sheer spectacle of the Court on full display.

Speaking of chivalry, according to Joffrey, Criston Cole was on his last legs in Viserys’ favour. He’d earned so much from his defence of me in the face of Daemon, I would have thought that after that particular incident he could have killed a man in open court and Viserys would have overlooked it. Even publicly switching sides to Alicent had done little to dent the esteem Viserys had held him in. Yet since my return and Viserys’ little awakening, Criston Cole had become less and less secure at court.

If Laenor had lost that duel to Correy, I do not think he would have enjoyed the consequences. He’d made it apparent his loyalty was not to the King when he’d given Correy to Alicent and not the Confessors as ordered but getting my husband killed or setting forth a chain of events that would see my child a bastard?

I do believe Viserys would have torn him apart. It probably explained why he’d been on his best behaviour recently. A loyal Lord Commander was a massive boon to the Greens. Canon told me it would ensure Alicent’s control of King’s Landing just after Viserys death and end in poor Lyman Beesbury being executed for his loyalty to me.

I owed the old man enough to at least get rid of his future murderer.

“Probably because of the recent robberies,” Joffrey replied finally, nodding as he evidently found what he was looking for. I would have responded but we’d reached our destination. Joffrey had probably timed his answer on purpose to annoy me.

Viserys was already present in the royal box, sipping wine alongside Alicent, who was relaxed and smiling, the first time I’d seen her as such since Correy’s duel.

I did not believe her little act for a second. She had to be panicking, her Greens were fragmenting around her. I had her on the ropes and yet here she was, smiling at a tourney to celebrate the death knell of her little attempted coup?

Aemond was unhappy to see me but then Aemond was always unhappy to be reminded I existed these days. He was only just out of confinement, having thrown a tantrum a week ago during which he had apparently bitten Viserys and kicked Ser Erryk Cargyll hard enough to bruise him.

“Good morning, Daughter! Ser Velaryon!” Joffrey bowed low in response as I made my greetings in turn.

“Might Joffrey sit with us today? Lady Rhaenys has taken her children in hand and we are both mere refugees, hiding from her gaze.” Joffrey had come by to collect me that morning with Laena and Laenor conspicuous by their absence. At my questioning of why they were missing, he hadn’t managed to hide his annoyance.

According to him, the Velaryon siblings had started a row with each other whilst preparing to meet me this morning. Laenor had let on his true feelings towards his nephew, Laena had responded predictably and Rhaenys had been forced to come down on her children like the wrath of an angry god when they’d started talking about an aerial duel.

Laenor’s feelings towards Lucerys had taken me entirely by surprise and I was somewhat worried I had managed to miss what was obvious in retrospect. No doubt I’d be dragged into it at some point.  
At my heavily edited explanation, Viserys looked a little put out but motioned for us both to sit down, ignoring Alicent’s brief sour expression. Annoyingly, the first thing he did was drop his hand onto my stomach and give me a wide smile.

“How are they this fine morning?” he asked.

“Well. The quickening was earlier than Alannys expected. I do believe if it’s not twins she may quit the midwife business for good.” Viserys chuckled at that, broad grim lighting up his face.

They had quickened a week ago. I had laid in bed, contemplating having another hour or so when a fluttering had begun in my belly. I had thought it nerves at first, butterflies in my belly, and spent an age trying to think about what I could be nervous about. At least until the answer had hit me like a freight train.

To say I had mixed feelings was an understatement. Alys had to coax me through two panic attacks, one storm of tears and hysterical giggles. The fact she does not think me a mad woman is probably a miracle. The fact she did it without joking or attempting to cheer me up is nothing short of divine intervention.

I would have to give her something nice in thanks.

I was saved from the need to speak further about the subject by the start of what seemed like an endless crowd of lords, all eager to get to Viserys through me. Even being away from the Throne room did little to dampen their enthusiasm for pushing their various pet projects. I even got a few gifts out of the whole thing.

Not that it was a bad haul. Plenty of expensive trinkets and such. Materials for dresses, a beautifully crafted bow, a collection of books I fully intended to devour and rare and expensive alcohols I had no use for since I’d stopped drinking the moment I’d realised I was pregnant. A fact, I should note, everyone at court had already remarked on so why I was getting bottles upon bottles was mind-boggling. All of this alongside the usual gifts a babe might receive, much in the same vein as the ones I’d bought Daeron over a year ago.

Gods, it felt so much longer, like an age had passed since I’d returned to King’s Landing that first time. The me back then would be horrified by the fact I hadn’t waited until my twenties like she had wanted to. She’d also be horrified about my complete lack of Black Powder. I smiled ruefully at that.

Then it was time for the joust itself. I will admit to a certain childlike wonder whenever Viserys held jousts, a wonder that had never gone away even as I had grown into a woman proper. I had spent over a decade as Rhaenyra and yet it was at these events that the surreality of the situation sank in for me. I was a princess, an honest to the gods princess, watching real knights in a joust.

Those of middling talent were eliminated pretty quickly with the usual names rising to the top. Stokeworth, Belmore, Cole, the Cargylls, Hightower. The only surprise for me was that Jaremy Corbray made it reasonably far in the lists. He may be a lousy Master of Whispers but he wasn’t a half bad knight.

I let myself relax and enjoy the show. It would not do to seem tense or nervous. Joffrey had something planned. He had asked for this tourney and implied he needed it to go ahead as part of his attempt to kill Otto but I could not make the connection in my mind. Even if I couldn’t now, however, I did not want anyone to look back and wonder.

Aemond was also enjoying the show, laughing and cheering for his chosen knight in each tilt. I found myself smiling a little. It was easy to see he was five when he was like this and not the sulking monster that fell to easily to violence that he was normally.

Hooves thundered once more and one more knight crashed from his horse and met the ground. The crowd cheered but not as loudly as they would have done for the favourites of the tournaments. The unfortunate mud-caked knight clambered to his feet and trooped from the field, waving to the crowd as he did so. It was considered the height of rudeness to be a poor loser.

As the tourney went on and no sign of Joffrey’s plan coming to fruition appeared I found myself even more on edge and tapping out an annoyed beat on the arm of my chair. The small smile that grew across his face in response to my annoyance had me grumbling to myself. I couldn’t ask with so many around us and he was enjoying it.

“How is Lady Laena and little Lucerys?” asked Viserys as another knight bit the dust to the roar of the crowd. I tried not to choke on air as Joffrey gave the King a surprised look.

“Well enough. She has her hands full with him. He is quite the active one,” Joffrey said, pride in his son winning out over caution. “I once again thank Your Grace for your kindness in regards to the egg. Laena very much hopes it will hatch soon.”

At the soft smile on Joffrey’s face, Viserys looked almost puzzled. I saw the moment Joffrey realised why and sank into my seat as my spymaster turned to me with a single raised eyebrow.

Damn.

I was saved by Viserys remembering himself a moment later and clapping the unfortunate knight on the shoulder with a laugh.

“I would be happy for him to share some time with Daeron,” he said cheerfully. “They’re not too far apart in age and I have to decide on who to foster him with!”

I risked a glance at Alicent as Joffrey stammered out his thanks. She looked ready to strangle the life from her husband for once again reminding her that he was in control when it came to my siblings. Then she was distracted as they announced the next riders. A small, fond smile grew over her face as Gwayne Hightower was to tilt against a minor Belmore cousin.

As Viserys’ attention was pulled away, by Jasper Wylde, Joffrey turned to me. I grimaced at his raised eyebrow and meaningful look.

“You did not mention your Father’s interest in Lucerys.” His voice was low and I caught a hint of danger there. I looked around the box at those closest but Alicent and Viserys were absorbed in whatever tale Lord Jasper was telling.

“It did not seem prudent,” I whispered back. His mouth morphed into an unhappy slant and her turned his gaze to the spectacle before us, leaning his face against his hand.

“I had wondered what he was holding over you,” he murmured, low enough so that only I heard it over the chatter of the crowd. “I had thought you smart enough to inform me if it was something like this.”

“He brought it up once,” I told him. “He has not again.”

“I dislike him even knowing,” Joffrey said. “Lucerys is my son.”

I watched him for a moment. It did not surprise me, I had seen Joffrey’s reaction to Lucerys at the moment of his birth. I had seen his loving glances, heard Laena’s reports. He had been married to Laena on the idea that he would be the father to her child.

Did he play out that role in other ways too? Burning jealousy squirmed in my stomach at the thought.

“Of course,” I said and turned back to the tourney ground. “No one doubts that.”

“Ser Velaryon!” called Viserys, pulling us from our conversation. “You were quite the tourney knight once I recall.”

Joffrey nodded and grimaced, face a brief mask of pain. He misses it, I think. He trained for it his entire life and he had been good at it. Even Corlys had said so which was high praise indeed for a man like my goodfather.

“How do you place my goodbrother in the rankings?” he asked, oblivious to Joffrey’s pain.

“He has the makings of an excellent rider, Your Grace,” said Joffrey after some thought. “But he lacks experience I fear. He will find his skill will only take him so far in this competition.”

“My brother has been trained by the finest the Hightower could purchase,” said Alicent, smile sharp. “Are you implying we wasted our money?”

“Of course not, Your Grace. He merely needs a year or two to find his stride. I predict he’ll be quite the fearsome opponent soon enough,” Joffrey told her, extending his peace offering.

“Better than you would have been? Before your injury, I mean?” She asked and Joffrey’s smile froze. It was long practice of putting up with her insults that kept me in my seat. Instead, I settled for imagining the slap such a comment should rightly earn.

“It is hard to say. Perhaps Her Grace would like a bet? Twenty five dragons on Ser Belmore.” The tone in his voice set my heart racing. He was angry. Very much so. Alicent did not see the trap, did not know him as I did, and accepted his bet with a smile.

I turned my attention back to the tourney grounds. Joffrey was not a gambler as a rule. If he was making a bet then he knew something. I wanted to drag him off and question him until he folded but Ser Gwayne and his opponent were gearing up for the first tilt.

“I should not have done that,” he murmured a moment later and I turned towards him to ask him why when I was interrupted. Alicent screamed as Gwayne was sent flying from his horse, a spray of blood following him down.


	67. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 62

“Hah! That’ll bring Otto scurrying back. Well done lad!” crooned Rhaenys, after we’d finished our explanation of why we had returned from the tourney much earlier than expected.

He’d explained just why Gwayne Hightower had to be horrifically injured in a joust before we’d arrived at the manse because I’d been very vocal about wanting to know. Alicent’s storm of grief as Gwayne was borne from the field almost, almost, made me rethink my plan. I had spent the entire trip back alternating from guilt-stricken and ready to end it all to hardened determination to see Alicent pay.

I’m blaming the hormones again.

Still, I had been moved enough to offer Gerardys’ aid. The seven know that Mellos does not even come near my Maester’s skill even if he was leagues ahead of that idiot Runciter.

I was also glad for Joffrey’s earlier warning regarding Velaryon family drama once more. Laena and Laenor might not be screaming anymore but they were still occasionally casting suspicious glances at the other and Laena was clutching her son to her chest as if she feared someone might appear to take him away. Joffrey and I had taken the safe option of sitting next to Rhaenys to avoid seeming like we were supporting one against the other.

“You caused Ser Gwayne’s accident?” asked Laena from the corner. Joffrey turned to her and nodded.

“You know why, Laena. Should Alicent win and crown Aegon, it won’t just be Rhaenyra’s children that are quietly removed,” he told her, crossing to her and lifting Lucerys out of her arms. Lucerys fussed momentarily before settling again and Joffrey watched him like he’d hung the moon.

I winced as our agreement of neutrality was shattered almost instantly. Laenor scowled and I shot him a look. He had the good decency to flush in response.

“And killing Gwayne helps? Bringing Otto Hightower here helps?” Laena asked, gazing at him as he cradled their son, as if desperate for some kind of explanation.

“Now I haven’t been let in on this plot of yours but I’d assume Otto being here is the point,” Rhaenys said. “The High Tower might as well be painted Green. There would be no touching Otto on Battle Isle.”

Rhaenys wasn’t fond of the cloak and dagger schemes but that did not mean she was not adept at them. She was every inch Corlys’ equal in politics and most other things, that she’d guessed Joffrey’s scheme did not surprise me.

“Well, we will have to see if Otto takes the bait now,” said Joffrey, rocking Lucerys back and forth as the child let out a stream of babble. An errant leg kicked his stick away and Laena bent down to retrieve it. When she came back up, she had controlled her expression somewhat.

“I can not keep up with you all at times,” she sighed. “Rhaenyra is off playing with the Faith, Joffrey is arranging murders and Laenor is fighting duels for his honour.”

“Hardly by choice” said Joffrey, tartly and I sighed in annoyance.

“We have been over thi-”

“And I am committed. My Princess has ordered me and I have obeyed,” he said cutting me off. Rhaenys made a small sound of amusement before leaning forward and clapping her hands on her thighs. We all jumped and turned to face her. There was a nasty smile in place and I was reminded that Otto had done as much to sabotage her as he had Corlys during his reign as Hand.

“So,” she said and I could see where her children got their occasional predatory grins from. “What is the plan?”

“Ser Gwayne is badly injured. He shouldn’t die, especially not now that Rhaenyra has offered Gerardys’ aid but it will give Alicent an opportunity,” he began. We all stared at him, intent on his explanation, his little sulk about being forced to plan it over or vanished in the face of his terrifying mother-in-law. “Viserys is likely to give in to Alicent’s request to have Otto return if only to attend to his son.”

“That was a nasty accident you arranged,” I said for the benefit of those who hadn’t seen it. “I would have thought him dead from the sight of it alone.”

“Indeed. I could not tell you before hand, I wanted your reaction to be real yet I allowed Alicent to bait me. It was ill done, the bet will stand out in her mind. She will be paying attention to me now, if only for a while,” he said. “I will not collect on the bet, of course. That would be rather crass and would only draw more of her ire.”

I bit back the response that he should, just to rub it in.

“Once Otto is back I expect him to be on his best behaviour. He won’t want to risk Viserys’ wrath again. His goal will be worming his way back into politics and likely, seizing control of the Greens from his daughter. This is when I will launch the second part of my plan,” Joffrey continued to his enraptured audience. Laena was staring at him with her mouth open, Rhaenys looked suitably impressed and Laenor… nope, still looking like a kicked puppy.

“It better be good. Alicent will be all over any suspicion that her Father died on Rhaenyra’s orders,” Laenor interjected, tone sulky.

“Alicent will suspect us regardless of how her Father dies. She will believe it retribution for Correy,” Joffrey told us, shooting me a meaningful glance. “Which it is.”

“I have gone over my reasons-”

“Regardless!” he said, cutting me off again. “We need Viserys to believe it wasn’t us. We need Lyonel Strong to believe it wasn’t us. That is what I am planning for.”

“I see,” I said. It made sense. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be laying out my master plan,” he said, much the everyones annoyance. At our reactions, he frowned. “Like Rhaenyra today, I need you all to react in a consistent manner. The more you know, the more weight you will give certain events. Viserys will be looking at you all when Otto dies.”

“I dislike not knowing but your reasoning makes sense. I’ll abide by it.” grumbled Rhaenys. Then added “For now.”

For some reason he looked quite nervous at that pronouncement. Laena raised a hand to his shoulder and chuckled, whispering something in his ear that had Joffrey blushing. I swallowed my jealousy once more but it seemed Laenor was not quite as adept at doing so if the way he stood and stormed from the room was any indication.

I followed him before Laena or Rhaenys could. Or, gods forbid, Joffrey.

“They’re sleeping together,” he told me in a hurt voice as I caught up with him. “They play happy families with Daemon’s son.”

“That was the whole point of marrying them, Laenor,” I pointed out. “Why did you suggest it if you were going to react badly to it happening?”

His subsequent blush and downcast gaze told me he hadn’t thought it through at all and that it had been as Joffrey theorised, he had just wanted Joffrey close and bearing his name. I groaned at the realisation.

“Laenor-”

“I know! I shouldn’t be jealous. I shouldn’t take it out on Lucerys,” he said, the threat of tears in his voice. “Mother made that quite clear.”

“I’m not asking you to deny what you feel,” I told him gently. He glanced up at me, surprised. “We agreed to sacrifices when we made our agreement the day we were married. Did you ever have that same talk with Joffrey?”

“No,” he replied, sounding miserable and I sighed. His much larger hand enclosed mine and he brought it to his lips. I blinked as red made its way across my cheeks. “Is this what it’s like for you?”

“Not with you,” I told him, conscious of my musing on their relationship recently. “I feel the same way about her though.”

He didn’t need to ask who I meant by that, he just pulled me close. I buried my head in his shoulder and we stayed like that for a little while.

“What a pair we make,” I mumbled and a small laugh caused his shoulders to shake.

“I shall speak to Joffrey and make my peace with Laena,” Laenor said finally, releasing me and looking a little happier. “And you should speak to her again.”

“I do not wish to make her uncomfortable. She has made herself clear,” I said and he gave me a pained grimace. “Now, I do believe your mother mentioned something about a meal earlier.”

Corlys arrived to eat with us and gave us an updated report about the goings-on within the Keep. Gwayne was out of immediate danger thanks to Gerardys and Mellos. He still may die from his wound going bad or any number of complications but he was stable.

Alicent was not taking it well. She’d reportedly grabbed Daeron and Aemond then sealed herself in her rooms so that the court would not witness her grief. I felt guilt churn in my gut once more, as much as I hated it. Gwayne was decent sort of guy. I got the feeling he was always slightly exasperated with his sister’s scheming, he was just happy she was Queen and his nieces and nephews royalty in turn.

Then I felt bad for feeling guilty. I did not know how Gwayne died in canon but I very much doubt it was when he supported Rhaenyra instead of Alicent. Gwayne’s reluctant sword would take my life as surely as any enthusiastic Green’s blade.

And anything was worth finally getting rid of that snake, Otto.

After the meal, Rhaenys and Corlys retired together and Lucerys was handed over to the maids to be dressed and readied for bed. It left the four of us alone and suddenly I couldn’t tell if the kids had gone absolutely wild or if I was very nervous.

I’m lying, I’m pretty sure it isn’t the kids.

“Well,” said Joffrey. “Today has been eventful. We need to dis-”

“I apologise,” said Laenor, interrupting whatever Joffrey had been about to say, eyes on his sister. “I lashed out. I should not have done.”

“We’ve all said things we regret to one another recently,” said Joffrey, his eyes softening in response to Laenor’s apology. “But I wanted to-”

“I do not regret them,” Laena cut in, causing Joffrey to clench his jaw. “I have spoken only the truth.”

“You told me that I was spending too much time bedding Joffrey!” Laenor cried. Laena opened her mouth to respond and promptly got interrupted by Joffrey before they could start bickering once more.

“Enough!” cried Joffrey. “I am not your nursemaid! I do not exist to be pulled between you every time you argue over something!”

Both of them flinched at that and directed guilty looks his way. I grimaced as he glared at them both until each looked away and then turned his gaze on me.

“We have a bigger problem than whose bed I sleep in as it happens,” he said finally and I did my best to sink into the furniture once more. “Viserys is well aware of the true father of Lucerys.”

“You jest,” said Laena weakly. Her face was pale and her hands were shaking. “Joffrey, if he knows Alicent does.”

“No,” I croaked and she turned her attention to me. “I begged him not to reveal it. He agreed as long as I ‘remembered I was a Targaryen and not a Velaryon’.”

“When did you find out?” Laenor asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“I would warrant she’s known since we returned,” opined Joffrey and I nodded, grudgingly admitting he was right.

“By the Seven,” Laena murmured, her breath coming fast. “By the Seven.”

“What are his intentions?” Laenor asked and I was gratified to hear some worry in his voice for all that he claimed his disliked Lucerys. “Does he wish access to Luke? Does he intend to expose him?”

“He’s using it as blackmail so that I am on my best behaviour. No running off into wars or openly fighting with Alicent,” I told him.

“But he doesn’t have anything to blackmail you with!” Laena burst out, eyes on me. “He has a truth that would destroy me.”

“Right,” drawled Laenor, suddenly amused. “And as we have all established, she doesn’t care about you in the slightest.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. I opened my mouth to cut them off only to close it again when Joffrey caught my eye and gave me a solemn shake of his head.

“She has told you what that means herself!” Laenor bellowed. Curiously, in response to that, Laena turned to look at Joffrey like a lost puppy instead of responding.

“We have spoken about this, Laena,” he said. “I will not lie to you.”

“I’m lost,” I said, wanting some semblance of control when it came to this conversation. “We are referring to my interest in Laena, correct?”

“We are,” replied Joffrey, focusing on Laena.

“It would be so much easier if she would spend time with you when I was with Joffrey,” groused Laenor and even I choked on that a little. “What? Even Joffrey said the symmetry was pleasing!”

I suspect both Laena and I were the same colour right now. I dropped my face into my hands, despairing and embarrassed that we’d even managed to get to this topic from an argument about Viserys.

“Would you agree to such an arrangement, Rhaenyra?” asked Joffrey, frsutration in his voice evident. I almost didn’t want to reply. It was too mortifying to admit that I would but a small hope this wouldn’t blow up in my face forced me to nod. Then I flinched as Laena let out an explosive breath.

“Truly?” she asked in a small voice. “I had thought I destroyed all possibility.”

“When she called you a whore and kinslayer,” Laenor helpfully informed me. Happily for him, the murderous look Laena threw him was one of annoyance at an interfering sibling and not an actual promise of murder.

“Yes, truly,” I said and managed a rueful kind of smile. “It seems I am quite taken with you still. Despite the insults.”

The smile I got at that inspired a broad, happy one of my own as my heart sped in my chest at the possibilities it brought.

“Excellent, we have finally arrived at a solution for our personal lives. Now perhaps we can finally discuss a way to negotiate the fallout from Viserys revealing what he knows about our son?” growled Joffrey.


	68. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 63

Court was afire with whispers as Otto Hightower made his way through the hall. He’d aged considerably, I noted, in the decade he’d spent banished from court. Once dark hair streaked with silver and much less of the talented knight he had been once in his frame now. His green eyes, the eyes of his daughter, were still as keen as ever though.

It was not his sword I needed to fear but his mind.

That mind had made him the de facto ruler of the Seven Kingdoms for nearly six years after all. Not bad for a second son, even one born to House Hightower.

It still made me bitter in the extreme to think of it. Jaehaerys’ steady decline had started soon after he’d given my grandfather to the flames of his pyre and the old king been all too happy to start handing more and more power to his Hand. As the illnesses and mental fog each took their due from him only Viserys could have matched Otto for influence over both the capital and the Small Council.

Viserys had done nothing of the sort, of course. He was still in hysterics that he would take the throne ahead of Rhaenys. Joffrey wasn’t the only one she low-key terrified and in those early days, Viserys had been convinced Corlys or Rhaenys would raise some kind of rebellion in turn. The fact that Corlys had raised his fleet during the Council itself was not reassuring in the slightest. Even less reassuring was that the only dragon Baelon’s line had at that point was Caraxes, which meant Viserys was relying on Daemon defending him.

Honestly, I’d be terrified too if my last line of defence against a fiery death was Daemon Targaryen.

When Viserys had ascended to King, things had continued as they had done under Jaehaerys’ twilight years. Otto took most of the important decisions and Viserys went along with whatever he decided, much in the way I imagine Robert did with Jon Arryn in that future that would not happen. In fact, the only one fighting Otto had been Daemon. Daemon who considered himself his brother’s heir and responsible for smacking down uppity Hands. Or perhaps Otto merely insulted his haircut at one point, it was hard to tell with Daemon.

Otto must have been on top of the world after Daemon had been banished and Alicent had married Viserys. His daughter the Queen, his most hated enemy cut off from what he desired most and most importantly, Hightower influence ascendant in the face of an all but banished Velaryon family.

And then it had all gone wrong for him in the space of a year.

Aegon born and Viserys keeping me as heir. That had to have stung, I was only heir in the first place because Otto had pushed for it. Then Corlys and Daemon had allied and forged their conquest of the Stepstones. A victory there would push the Velaryons to yet new heights of power and give Corlys a hell of a lot of control over shipping in the narrow sea to boot. Shipping House Hightower relied on greatly. It would have ravaged Otto’s pride to pay Corlys’ tolls.

He’d reacted by preventing any meaningful aid reaching Daemon and Corlys and by making it his goal in life to discredit me. Viserys had not cared about the former but Otto’s attitude to me revealed by some well-timed theatrics on my behalf? Viserys had banished him so fast he’d barely had time to collect his belongings. Stuck in Old Town, he’d had to watch as Alicent took over as the sole Green leader in King’s Landing and he was relegated to an adviser, his schemes at the mercy of his daughter.

Otto was an old school misogynist, of the belief women should be quiet, supportive things. Seen and not heard. That their only duty and purpose in life was to pump out babies. I can not imagine how much it hurt that his daughter led the Greens and not him.

I can not imagine how smug he was now, knowing she’d fouled it all up and had been forced to come to him for help.

“Your Grace,” his voice was smooth as he bowed low to his daughter and goodson. Memory of it castigating me over the years caused me to shudder. “I come to hear news of my son.”

“Lord Hightower. Be welcome in this court, please accept my invitation to stay in the Red Keep until his recovery is complete,” Viserys intoned. Otto bowed again.

“I would be honoured, Your Grace, truly. Please do not take offence when I say I hope my son’s recovery is swift, however.” At the little joke, many in the court chuckled and I wanted to scream. Even Viserys’ lips quirked up at that.

“I take no offence, Lord Hightower. Truly it is my most fervent hope that Ser Gwayne recovers with haste as well.” I watched as Alicent’s smile became a bit strained at that. Interesting.

With that out of the way, Otto began his mingling. I tracked his progress across the court as I set to my own politicking. Even if most of my time was spent fending off questions about my babe with a stick. Many, many people already wanted to know whether there was likely a royal marriage up for grabs or whether it was already decided.

At least I did not have to worry about a last minute decision to marry them to Lady and Lord Nobody. Viserys had always made it quite clear I had the honour of planning their future matches and dealing with the consequences should the match prove disastrous. Given that my children would be dragon riders and their spouses would not be, I was pretty sure they’d be fine with their eventual partners.

“Your Grace,” Otto Hightower said, voice mild and yet conveying how much he’d rather have me dead than have power over him. I stamped down the small heart attack his sudden appearance caused and forced a smile to my face.

“Lord Hightower. Welcome to King’s Landing! How goes the day?” I asked, voice pleasant and not at all forced.

“Well enough,” he replied. “My Daughter tells me that you are to thank for my son’s life?”

“Maester Gerardys is skilled, my lord, he is the one that saved your son’s life,” I said, false modesty suffusing my tone. It would kill him to feel indebted to me but then again, I doubted he actually cared if Gwayne lived or died. He wasn’t even the spare after all. He could be relegated from tool to dead easily enough.

“I thank you all the same. I’m told Grand Maester Mellos was entirely inadequate.” Bait. Steer around it.

“I could not speak to the skill of the Grand Maester in healing,” I replied diplomatically. He smiled broadly then as if acknowledging my avoidance of his little trap.

“I must admit I have sorely missed all of this,” he said after I did not engage in conversation once more. “It is pleasant to be back in King’s Landing, even if it is for such grim reasons.”

“Truly all here wish Ser Gwayne a swift and full recovery,” I said warmly. Ser Gwayne would be back to Old Town once Otto had met his fate.

“I am glad that the heir to the Iron Throne is so generous and warm to my own kin. Perhaps I might seek your opinion on a certain matter?” The change in topic had my smile become strained a little.

“Please, Lord Hightower, I am happy to help in any way I can.” He beamed at that and it was almost genuine.

“I do wonder if I could your opinion on this business about war with Dorne?” he asked and I froze without meaning to, mind searching desperately for where this had come from. There had been some call for war with Dorne in the aftermath of Daemon’s final goodbye but that had died long ago.

So where had he gotten this from?

“Dorne is desert,” I said finally. “Still half destroyed from years of being burned in the aftermath of Rhaenys’ death. All we will find in war with the Dornish is death and dishonour.”

“I shall bear that in mind. My apologies, Your Grace, you are looking rather pale. Do your children trouble you? I would not wish to distress them.”

My hand found my stomach and the lives that grew within. If Alannys was right, and I did believe she was, I was fast closing in on the halfway point of my pregnancy. Still smack bang in the middle of the second trimester and suffering from pronounced symptoms that usually were a good indicator of twins even if I could stomach food without the threat of meeting it again now. Mostly.

I’d even developed that weird little line along my belly. Along with itchy and swollen feet, ongoing weight gain, my still intense cravings, the really fun mood swings and the ever present need to know where the nearest privy was at all times.

They still fluttered away in there. Mostly they did it in the morning and at night but sometimes they decided to have a party during the day just to spite me. I wanted to meet them, I wanted to hold them, I wanted them out and in my arms and that want scared me.

“My children are better than well,” I replied, tone harder than I intended. “They are dragons and not so easily distressed.”

“Oh, I understand, Your Grace, but it remains fact that both your Mother and Grandmother struggled in birth. Died in birth,” he replied, tone so falsely sympathetic I had to literally swallow my rage. At least rage at Otto was better than fear he was right.

“My Daughter worries so for you. She was quite distressed to learn you would not visit Mellos at all!” Otto was continuing, well aware of my anger and fear if the nasty smile in place was any indication. “I, myself, was quite distressed to learn you were relying on these new ‘midwives’. Truly, I wonder how appropriate that is?”

“They are trained by my own Maester. Gerardys is one of the finest healers the Citadel has a ever produced I am told. And my midwife has the experience of more babes than she can count backing her skills,” I boasted, enjoying his brief look of chagrin. “I would warrant my birth will be easier than many. Even with twins.”

“We can only hope, Your Grace. We can only hope.” Then he gave me a small bow and disappeared into the crowd, shaking hands and greeting those lords he knew from his Handship.

What a bastard. A smooth bastard though. Every inch the danger I know him to be. If anyone could rescue Alicent from the hole she dug herself into with that duel it was him. It was why I had to kill him. Instead of dwelling on his cheap shots, I sought out Lord Corlys and his wife.

My thoughts drifted to their daughter as I searched the small crowd and I smile touched my face, one I couldn’t have fought if I’d even wanted to try. Since Laenor had managed to push the issue in his own ham-fisted manner, Laena and I had actually managed to sit down and have an honest conversation which did not end in a screaming match.

She had kissed me. I wanted to giggle like a maiden at the memory of it.

“Your Grace,” murmured Corlys with a solemn nod as reached them. “I hope your friend has his ideas in order because he could well rescue this mess.”

All three of us watched as Otto greeted yet another Dove lord with an exclamation of surprise and delight, clapping a hand on his shoulder and introducing him to a hesitant Green. Although I suppose that didn’t count really, all Greens were hesitant these days. Otto, though, was fully capable of reinforcing that wavering support.

“Such grim faces. Otto is less than nothing,” murmured Rhaenys, her good humour today evident in a teasing smile. “I could always pick a fight with Alicent to cheer you both.”

“Wife, please do not,” chuckled Corlys and I allowed myself a smile at the thought.

“It would be fitting revenge. She was always so keen to taunt me regarding my children.” She half sounded like a child pleading for the latest toy and I had to cover my mouth to hide my laugh.

“Save your taunting for when we’ve beaten her, Rhaenys. It will be all the sweeter,” Corlys told her, also struggling to hide his smile.

“Speaking of my children, where are they today?” I took me a moment to realise Rhaenys’ question was addressed to me.

“Laena is at the manse, Laenor is training,” I replied easily.

“And where is my goodson?” she asked, earning herself an odd look from both Corlys and I. Honestly, her tone was warm and happy. She hadn’t even choked on the word goodson. Given that he had been the subject of Laenor and Laena bellowing at one another just a week or so ago, I was extremely surprised.

“He’s a clever man. A good man,” she said defensively when I continued to look baffled. “Have you seen him with Lucerys?”

“He dotes on him,” I said, smiling a that. Now that Joffrey had made his stance on his wife and lover clear and the two had managed to work out a pseudo-custody arrangement of him, Laenor had softened to little Luke by a startling amount. The babe spent a lot more time with his father and uncle these days.

I would be lying if a little bit of jealousy did not burn in me whenever Laena and Joffrey were together, just as Laenor still felt the same. It would take time to ease those feelings, to feel secure in this new paradigm.

She did not love him, she had told me, she did not even desire him. She had not bedded him since the ceremony. He was kind to her, he played the father to her son so well she half wished he was the boy’s true father at times. They would lay abed together and talk. She liked that she could say anything to him and he would not judge her, she had insisted.

Velaryon family politics made my head hurt at times. Still, at least it wasn’t Targaryen family politics. Those ended up in continent spanning barbecues and tears.


	69. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 64

“You seem to be a in fine mood recently, Your Grace,” said Alys Strong as I sat down at the table where Maris was dealing cards. At the reminder, I struggled not to smile again, struggled not to turn to Laena and see if she had reacted as well. 

Maris was perceptive enough to spot such a red flag, Falena too. I was less sure about Marya and the Strongs but I did not know their stances on lovers. Especially lovers of the wrong body type, so to speak, and as such I was keen to keep them from figuring it out. So I dropped my hand to my stomach where the babes were, thankfully, silent for the moment.

They were most active in the morning just after I’d awoken or just before I was to sleep. Honestly, if I were a modern mother I’d be taking that as a bad sign. Still, it was nice to lay there for a while and just feel them moving about. It also gave whatever lady slept by my side a little more sleep. I’d been informed by Laena that the truckle bed was extremely uncomfortable and sleep never came easy on it.

I’d invited her to sleep next to me and she’d blushed such a deep and fierce red I’d been genuinely afraid she might actually burst a blood vessel or something. I enjoyed her blush, especially when she was genuinely flustered and not feeling guilty that she was. 

“Perhaps I am becoming my accustomed to the idea of pregnancy,” I said, somewhat truthfully, and Marya beamed at me. I would warrant it wouldn’t be long before she asked my leave to marry. Two pregnancies in the same time frame had her eyeing one of her own. “Now that they are moving, I am more excited for the babes.”

Lucerys’ sudden fussing gave me an opportunity to glance at her. She had her head bent low, silver ringlets hiding her face from everyone. The tips of her ears gave her away though. She knew precisely why I had been so happy lately. I’d told her as such at every opportunity.

The fact that I was more excited for the babes did not mean I wasn’t scared out of my mind still. When Joffrey was with Laena, Laenor had started coming to me. He’d curl around me and listen to all my thoughts and fears and soothe them away with murmured reassurances. He’d brush his hands through my hair or wipe away my tears when they fell. 

And I’d had at least one grovelling apology for him acting like an arse when it came to dividing his time between Joffrey and I.

“Oh! We are so excited ourselves!” said Falena, smiling broadly in contrast to her usual solemn nature. She was doing that more often, I’d noted. Ever since I’d approved of Septon Patrek and we’d gone into business together, so to speak.

My guards reported seeing off more than a few of these mystery knights and city guard. A word with Harwin had called off the Gold Cloaks but not even Joffrey had been able to figure out who was paying the knights. Concerning, given he’d almost certainly ruled out his friend and the ghost of Daemon’s influence.

“I figured. You dote on Lucerys enough,” I said with a smile to the boy’s mother. “Not that he isn’t worthy of all the attention he receives.”

In her arms, the subject of our conversation gave his Mother’s hair a painful wrench and she grimaced, proud smile fading. Several snickers of amusement sprang up around the table as she attempted to disentangle herself from his grip.

“He is an adorable babe,” enthused Marya as Laena failed to escape and glared at us all with her head at such an angle so that he could no longer properly pull. 

“At times,” I said then leant over to help, prying a few pudgy fingers open.

“Would you take him?” she asked, once she was free. I held my arms out in reply and received a wriggling bundle. Luckily for me, I wore my hair in a braid and Lucerys far preferred my shawl anyway and unlike some of my ladies, I’d known from the beginning that dangling jewelry would be dangerous to have around him. 

“Thank you,” sighed Laena, as he settled in my arms.

“It’s no issue,” I said, favouring her with a smile as she massaged her arms. Marya and Sera immediately bent over to fuss at him. Alys merely pulled a face at her sister’s delight then snuck a peek at Sera’s hand.

I rocked him back and forth as my ladies played a few rounds, occasionally cooing to him. I had to admit he’d grown on me these past few weeks. Maybe I was finally getting baby brain or maybe Laenor’s reassurance over my own pregnancy had removed a source of stress. He would be raised alongside my children, I had come to realise. Where I went Laena would inevitably end up, whether it was me or Joffrey she was following, and Lucerys was a package deal. It felt odd to picture this silver haired boy and my own children playing so I settled for poking his nose, taunting him as he attempted to seize my finger. 

“Ah, I forgot to mention. Lord Hightower has asked to pay a visit to my Father,” Marya said as Maris began dealing again. My head snapped up, thoughts of my future forgotten as I focused on the present. Lucerys warbled unhappily at losing my attention.

“Lord Hightower has been courting your Father?” I asked sharply and Marya nodded, face grim.

“You need not worry, Your Grace, he is loyal to you. He made that quite clear but it was not concerning the Greens,” she assured me but I was still discomforted. I shifted my hold on Lucerys and he began making attempts to pull my mantle off.

“Did your father tell you what it was regarding?” I asked.

“Father said it was about his opinions on a war for Dorne,” she replied. “He said Otto was looking for the general view on it to better advise King Viserys.”

Bullshit, this is part of his play to save the Greens. There was no call for war in Dorne. Why was he so obsessed with something that the Blacks, Greens and Doves had no desire for? The War Hawks were too small a part for him to be courting surely?

“Gwayne is no longer in danger,” said Laena sourly “He should be gone already.”

She knew, of course, that he would not leave willingly and that we wanted him to stay long enough to engineer his death. She was her Mother’s daughter though, at heart, and disliked the cloak and dagger scheming. She’d much rather invite him to speak with Vhagar, a dangerous thing to do in a post-Maegor world.

“Are you not a fan of Lord Hightower?” asked Maris, any pretence of actually playing the card game put aside for her second greatest love, gossip. Laena gave me a hesitant look and I shrugged. I suppose a marriage to Joffrey had taught her to be extremely careful about what she said to who.

“It is no secret, Maris. Otto Hightower hates Father and the feeling is mutual. When he was Hand he tried to block the charter for Spicetown!” She sounded so outraged I had to bend my head over Lucerys slightly to hide my amusement. He managed to pull my mantle over his face and then gave startled cry at the sudden darkness.

“Is it true that Lord Corlys raised his fleet during the Great Council?” asked Sera as I desperately shushed him. “Father would never tell us. He said it was casting aspersions on loyal lords.”

“Daemon and Corlys came close to starting a civil war, yes,” I replied, Lucerys successfully calmed. “Lord Corlys was full of wrath at having his wife passed over the Throne twice. Daemon-”

Daemon had coveted the Throne even then. He’d wanted Viserys close to it because he would be Viserys’ heir in the same way many argued Aegon was Viserys’ heir. Not precisely acceptable to say even amongst friends though.

“Daemon wanted to take his revenge for the loss of Vhagar,” I said, finally. Laena blushed at that as my ladies showed confusion. A flicker of amusement ran through me. “As you are likely unaware, when a rider dies the closest unbound member of their family is supposed to have the first refusal on their dragon. Technically, I should ride Vhagar.”

Laena went even redder at that as my ladies tittered, taking the teasing smile on my face to mean I had no hard feelings about the matter.

“I could not imagine you with each other’s dragons, Rhaenyra,” said Alys. “They suit you both so well!”

“And I could not imagine our situations reversed either. Just think, had Rhaenys ascended to the Throne, we would be playing cards with Princess Laena!”

That got a laugh out of them, even Laena joined in although her blush was very much still present.

“I would forgo the title with happiness. Had Mother been made heir she likely would have insisted Laenor and I marry,” Laena said firmly, eyes on me. Ah, she was feeling brave today. The knowledge made me feel too big for my skin and restless to boot. She was my attendant tonight but I wanted to send them all away now. I couldn’t, of course, so I settled for smiling back.

“Is that not… odd to you? The idea of marrying your brother?” asked Alys and received several warning looks from my other ladies. It was Marya that showed how uncomfortable she was most but I could see most of them shifting. Incest was the elephant in the room when it came to non-Valyrians.

Honestly, the idea made my skin crawl. I had this vague idea of establishing cadet branches but first I had to figure out just how dragon riding worked and there never seemed to be enough time. Then as Laena finally seemed to have formulated an answer to that, I had an idea.

Laena had complained of needing something to do, why not put her to work researching dragon lore?

“In truth, it is. Laenor is my best friend but I could not marry him,” she admitted, eyes finding mine again. 

“He is not Ser Joffrey?” asked Sera, teasing smile lighting up her face. Next to her, her twin adopted a similar smile.

“No. He is not the one I love, that is very true.” Oh, yes, she was very brave today. It was all I could do to keep myself from blushing like a maiden at the insinuation.

“And you, Rhaenyra? Had your older brother survived? Or if His Grace asked you marry Aegon?” I blinked at the question, train of thought about Laena thoroughly derailed. Falena had asked, surprisingly, she was normally given to silent judgement and disapproval.

“If I was told to by my Father there is not much I could do to argue against it. I must admit I’d never willingly choose it,” I replied and Falena nodded in acceptance. I noted a few of them unable to hide looks of relief. I could understand that. Nothing weirder than someone you know and like wanting to marry their own brother.

We played cards for sometime after that and passed Lucerys around to receive fuss. It became an unofficial competition between us all, who could earn the most smiles. Surprisingly, that was Maris. Laena’s face was quite the picture as she realised that. Maris also, as usual, won quite a bit of money from us all. Laena, Alys and Sera all lost the contents of their coin purses to her and Marya and Falena came away slightly worse off but not much poorer. 

I know she’s cheating.

Still, her skill at gambling, and cheating, had at least begun benefiting my cause. Her first gambling den had opened in the city with a few more planned soon depending on how the first was received. Joffrey had made sure she would not be managing them personally and had provided her with a middle man as to better keep an eye on her, but I was given to believe she ran it all the same. Quite professionally, I was told. Well maintained with just enough cheating by the House to ensure her luckless patrons never got too wealthy off her back. 

Regardless of her work for Joffrey, the point I’m trying to make is that nobody should ever play cards with her because she cheats. One day, my ladies might just realise this. I’d solidly resisted all of Maris’ attempts to draw me in with a Lucerys-based excuse.

She knew I knew.

It felt like an age before Joffrey came by and collected his son, leaving Laena free for tonight. Soon after my ladies trailed away to as the evening began drawing in. Laena and I were left alone with the usual card-based detritus Maris tended to leave behind.

“Are you still intent on sleeping in the truckle bed?” I asked. She blushed a deep red in response, earning a chuckle of delight from me.

“Must you?” she asked plaintively as we made our way to my bedroom. “You only do it to see me blush.”

“I do. Do you wish me to stop?” At that question her blush deepened and she busied herself with finding a nightgown for me. My chuckle became an outright laugh and she shot me a look that promised vengeance, much to my delight.

“I do not want you to stop,” she said finally as I clambered into bed, careful to avoid toppling myself over as I had done frequently in the past. Or pulling a muscle, another thing pregnant women apparently did frequently.

“Then I shall not,” I said in reply, shooting her what I hoped was a cheeky smile. Her answering smile was cheeky in turn and I was about to ask her what had her so amused when she crawled into bed alongside me and my question turned into an odd choking sound at her bravery.

I slept like a baby that night with her hand resting on my stomach and her breath warm in my ear.


	70. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 65

The next morning, I awoke to an empty bed and the babes fluttering away in my belly. I was about to start panicking that Laena had gone somewhere to brood, that I had pushed too hard when I was proved wrong.

She entered, still in her night gown and carrying a tray that wafted a heavenly, heavenly smell through the room. I pushed myself into a sitting position and eyed the bacon, sausage and eggs that she’d bought me with a sudden hunger.

A smile twitched across her face at my immediate reaction.

“When I was pregnant with Lucerys the thing I wanted most in the world were Dornish Oranges. Mother was of the opinion that they weren’t good for the babe but Alannys disagreed so I got my oranges,” she said, placing the tray down on the bedside table. “I wouldn’t have traded them for all the gold in Casterly Rock.”

“Oranges would probably be a healthier thing to crave,” I mumbled, sleep still making my voice raspy, before snagging some bacon and sighing in pleasure at the satisfaction it brought. “Thank you.”

“I want to be useful, Rhaenyra. I do not wish to be a liability anymore,” she replied. Then she dropped onto my bed with a sigh. “I tried so hard to fix the damage I have done to you. I showed you Lucerys, I made sure you ate well, I tried to get Laenor to do his duty.”

“Oh, that’s why you were being so infuriating,” I said around a mouthful of bacon. It earned me a glare in turn.

“I thought I led you astray. I have been informed, repeatedly, that you did that entirely by yourself but I meant what I said. If I am not your role model, I want to be something.” 

I remembered my little brain wave from yesterday. 

“I have an idea,” I said, finally as I selected the next bit of the fried heaven to attack. “Leading on from my ladies absolute horror at the idea of brother-husbands...”

Laena snorted at that.

“If Mother heard them she’d park Meleys atop the Red Keep as a reminder of their places,” she said.

“Hmmm, Rhaenys is a big believer in traditional Targaryen values. Pure blood, dragon ascendancy and all that,” I mused. “But it did make me wonder something. Why do we marry to keep the blood pure?”

Laena stared at me as if I had gone slightly mad.

“Rhaenyra, it would be disaster if we lost control over our dragons!” she cried before lowering her voice. “You know as well as I that our power comes from our mounts.”

“And politically it keeps claims within the family,” I added and she rolled her eyes. “But here’s the thing, Aegon can ride a dragon. He tamed Frost. So can Helaena because she tamed Morghul.”

Laena nodded, looking puzzled and then her eyes cleared.

“Oh! You’re wondering how much blood is needed. Both of them are half Andal!” she exclaimed.

“I’m half Andal,” I informed her dryly. “But that is the point I’m getting at. You have dragon blood on both sides but far less on your Father’s. If we threw Corlys to a dragon would he be able to tame it? Or do you get your ability to command Vhagar solely from from Rhaenys?” 

“Well… I’m not sure, actually,” she said, tapping a finger on her face. “You aren’t half Andal though, your mother was half Andal. You’re a quarter Andal.”

“How dare you! My mother was every inch the Arryn,” I laughed, munching on eggy bread. Laena leant past me and stole a sausage, ignoring my look of complete betrayal.

“You ride Syrax and Laenor rides Seasmoke. So I’m not sure if it matters,” she said. “What does this have to do with me though?”

“I want to know how much Valyrian blood you need to control a dragon. If I can move our family away from the more egregious incest it would work well towards putting a lot of minds at ease in both the nobility and the Faith. I believe Jaehaerys made a mistake when he attempted to justify it so badly,” I told her. “But also dragons are the source of our power. We lost much in the Doom and we were not that powerful amongst the forty families to start with. If we are to survive in Westeros we must know everything about the dragons, everything.”

“Oh,” she said finally, frowning. “I have a confession to make.”

I tried not to feel dread at that admission. Given that Laena merely looked abashed and not overly guilty or scared, I was somewhat reassured.

“I may already be doing something similar,” she admitted after I raised an eyebrow in questioning. “It was supposed to be a gift of sorts. For my nieces and nephews.”

“Really?” I asked, recalling her trips to Dragonstone and the material I’d liberated from her for Aegon’s going away present. “That is very thoughtful of you. I suppose me stealing your research didn’t help.”

“I was already done with it by that point,” she chuckled then became more serious. “I just wonder how wise it was to give him access to it. He may well be your foe one day.”

Ah, her Mother’s daughter in more ways than one.

“He is my brother now. Kindness may cause him to hesitate to fall to cruelty later,” I said, diplomatically. She regarded me for a good long time then.

“Might I ask you a question?” she asked finally. “You do not need to answer. I know I am not… I am not the one you would trust unconditionally. I hope that will come in time but I do not wish to upset or unsettle you…”

“Ask away. I can not think of anything you could ask that would upset me,” I told her, taking pity as she floundered to find the right words.

“A long time ago, Laenor thought… Laenor thought you could see the future. He said you knew things you should not. I thought it was odd. I thought he was coming up with reasons to avoid you. Then when we visited the Wisdoms… you said that you wrote that book..” She started and I wanted to groan, tensing without meaning to. “Oh, you don’t want to talk about it.”

And she’d spotted it. Damn.

“No, no. I do, it would be good to clear the air but I would prefer Laenor and Joffrey present.” At my lack of explosion or immediate shut down of the conversation she sighed in relief. “It is a long and complicated topic. I fear you will not think well of me afterwards. I fear you will need someone to talk to.”

She regarded me for a long time and then nodded.

“Might I ask… If you could see the future, if Laenor were right, might you have seen something in mine had I gone with Daemon?” she asked, tone careful. 

“I might have,” I replied and her eyes went wide before narrowing. “I might have seen children. Happiness for a while. And then death. A cruel one.”

“I see,” she said finally, after mulling that over for a while. We sat in silence for a while as I ate. The kids were active that morning, fluttering away. Truly, I was dreading the home stretch so to speak. When they would be large enough to distinctly kick and punch. I had been told that it could hurt and Laena’s experiences only seemed to back that up.

Eventually my eyes drifted closed, almost against my will.

“I will work on your dragon lore, Rhaenyra,” said Laena, interrupting my half doze. I forced my eyes open to stare at her in surprise and she smiled, placing a hand on my stomach. “I’ll make sure the little ones know everything they need to know about dragons. I’ll be the second coming of Septon Barth should you need me to be.”

“Thank you. If you need any permissions for the library in Dragonstone-” A yawn forced me to cut that sentence off. “-don’t hesitate to ask.”

With that problem out of the way, we laid together for a little while longer. Then I made to get up and she chided me about not sleeping enough and we ran through the usual routine I had with any of my ladies. Alys and Maris arrived soon after to relieve her and she left me to them, off to check on her son and ensure he was fed.

My feet took me to court eventually, with my ladies in tow and ready to enforce bed rest at the slightest issue. Again, I struggled not to rant and rage at the cotton wool everyone wanted to wrap me in. I could understand it. The heir’s heirs were very important but I’d had quite enough of being babied.

And my mood was not terribly improved by an encounter with the ever smug Otto and his announcement he was now advising Viserys on certain subjects. Like Dorne.

Fuck.

“Nasty bugger,” remarked Maris the moment he was out of sight. Maris was very adept at reading between the lines. “We’ll be well rid off him.”

“Father dislikes him. He says he should collect his son and go back to Old Town,” Alys added, fidgeting with her dress. Lyonel enjoyed his neutrality so I was more surprised she’d actually told us than the fact she’d kept silent yesterday. “He says he is upsetting the court more than the Blacks and the Greens do.”

“He won’t leave. Gwayne is not even his spare, he cares little for him beyond the in it gives to Viserys’ inner circles once again,” I retorted as we began our way back to the Throne room where Viserys was hearing petitions.

“Could the man truly be so cold?” asked Alys.

“You are too innocent. A man cares about his standing in life above all else,” snorted Maris, probably remembering her own Father’s manipulations and the following attempted sacrifice of Roland to get out of the consequences.

“I can’t believe that. My Father certainly doesn’t. He has given Sera and I leave to do as we wish. To remain at Rhaenyra’s side or seek a marriage,” Alys argued. Maris raised an eyebrow at that. “He has given the same leave to Harwin and Larys.”

“Our Hand is a better man than most,” Maris admitted grudgingly. “Were my Father Hand he’d have been worse than Lord Otto. Truly, Jeyne insulted the Black Brothers when she sent him to them.”

I winced. Alys didn’t have anything to say to that and so we made it to the Throne room with no further interruptions or debates on Westerosi morality. I was starting to dislike coming here without Laenor in tow, mostly because the moment Viserys was finished prodding at my belly, I was swarmed by lords.

Annoyingly, I could now clearly see that there was a will for war with Dorne. As I might have predicted had I been paying attention, it was the Stormlanders and Reachman but some of the Crownlanders, Westermen and even Rivermen were keen on it. My own loyal lords wanted direction and I found myself at a loss.

I hadn’t lied to Otto. Dorne was a mess, anti-Targaryen sentiment at an all time high and dancing on the precipice of a civil war between the painfully young daughter of a popular Prince and a proven warrior in said Prince’s youngest brother.

So I stuck to my non-committal answers. Viserys would not allow war with Dorne, surely? It risked the dragon riders most of all. We would be expected to siege castles, to drive back armies and the Dornish had slain a dragon once before.

Joffrey caught me by the arm as I was reassuring Lord Wendwater and steered me away, making his apologies. I was more than a little annoyed but swallowed my anger at the excitement in his shuffling gait.

“I have a lead,” he told me, the moment we had a little privacy. When he saw my confusion, he elaborated. “On Mushroom’s murder.”

That definitely got my attention.

“Tell me everything,” I demanded.

“I finally located the professional that carried out the murder. Or rather, I found what was left of him. He was known enough to the Gold Cloaks that his disappearance raised some alarm. Well known, in fact. I had a brief word with our favourite Strong about him.”

“I doubt any words with Harwin can be brief but keep going,” I said, unable to resist the barb.

“Well, the assassin was thug by all accounts. A star for six in Flea Bottom but two things set him above the others; a certain low cunning and the fact he’d do anything if the price was right. Harwin says his men reported him spending big money after the murder, boasting of a new business opportunity and a lucrative future. His men tried to discover who was paying him but obviously they did not suspect he was even capable of gaining entry to the Keep. They did point me in the direction of one of his associates though. One who was also reportedly flush with cash after the fact as well.”

I nodded along.

“Surprise, surprise after his associates death he went to ground. In one of my brothels as luck would have it. He used to be one of your Father’s grooms here in the Keep. He agreed to tell me everything in return for a ship to the Free Cities and a bag of gold. He was hired to make sure the assassin reached one of the outer towers.” Joffrey was slightly breathless now. “Rhaenyra, they were hired by my friend.”

“That’s impossible,” I breathed. “That would mean Alicent was the one who killed Mushroom.”


	71. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 66

The idea that Alicent had killed Mushroom for some unknown reason taunted me for quite some time. It couldn’t be over some rude joke or mocking nickname, Mushroom had always avoided angering her, which is the second biggest reason anyone would risk killing Mushroom. I’d briefly dwelt on the idea he’d seen something, overheard some plot, but whatever it was it would have to be big to risk killing him in the Red Keep itself.

So I’d set Joffrey to tearing apart his life in response, desperate for some reason Alicent would possibly want him dead and we’d come up with precisely one surprise. Mushroom had been Alicent’s creature, spreading her rumours about the court and feeding her every overheard conversation. 

While that had some chilling implications for canon Rhaenyra, I’d never interacted with him that much and I had never truly trusted the foul mouthed little demon. He certainly hadn’t been privy to anything I hadn’t wanted him to be.

The discovery of his true allegiance just further muddied the waters! He had been the perfect spy; none suspected him and for all intents and purposes, he gave her some of her most useful information. Even Joffrey and I had not suspected his involvement with her.

Why would she kill her own most effective operative?

I suppose he could have been getting ready to jump ship but- no that did not make sense. Her Greens had started abandoning her after the duel. Mushroom’s murder had led to the duel when Cole had been alerted to Correy’s existence.

I swear the idea that it was Alicent of all people just makes this mystery more infuriating!

Despite that ongoing question, the year ended anti-climatically in defiance of all the plots that swirled around the court of King Viserys the Idle. Otto remained moving ever closer to establishing himself as a full time player in King’s Landing once more with his advisory position on the Small Council. I remained in a holding pattern, making sure my loyal lords felt appreciated in addition to looking for new ones to forge alliances with.

And yet despite all that, the Greens and Blacks were hemorrhaging members. Oh, don’t get me wrong they were still loyal to their factions, just not as eager to play the game anymore. They had a new game to play, one more violent than court posturing.

The clamour for war with Dorne had not died as time had gone on, instead it had grown to a fever pitch as more and more lords nominally joined the War Hawk faction. Viserys was even losing Doves. Those that had been focused on Alicent and I’s struggle for power were now much more interested in justifying a decisive strike, wishing to complete what Aegon had started.

It was so serious that Viserys had even broken his ‘keep Rhaenyra out of government’ rule to invite me to the Small Council meeting on the matter.

“Father,” I said by way of greeting as I arrived to the chamber. Otto was already there, beating even Lyman, brown-noser that he was.

“Rhaenyra!” His face lit up and he made to hug me, unusually gentle and mindful of my swollen stomach. I kind of missed his bone-crushing hugs actually even if I would never ever say that out loud. Otto gave me a bland smile as I noted he’d stolen my usual seat. 

Not that it bothered me, I was not about to bicker over a seat. I wasn’t that petty.

Okay, I totally was but the kids were raising hell and my feet were swollen and I justed wanted to sit down. 

Apparently Viserys was petty enough and turfed Otto from his seat a moment later, indicating I should retake my usual position by his side. That was reassuring. I had feared he would fall into old and comfortable patterns, letting Otto puppet him so he did not have to think about the consequences of his actions.

It seemed my Father’s spine was here to stay.

Viserys took my hand as I settled next to him and I gave him a smile in thanks. At least he was trying and who knows, if I failed to spontaneously drop dead in this meeting he might start letting me back into the others. Gods, relying on Corlys was starting to grate! He wasn’t bad at his job but he liked to paraphrase and it made my teeth itch.

The rest of the Council trickled in with only Jaremy showing any real surprise I was present. It really was depressing that the spymaster was the only one who failed to find out I’d be there before hand. At least he was carrying the documents I’d come to associate with Joffrey and wouldn’t be embarrassing the Blacks with his incompetence. 

“Welcome, my lords. It is time we discussed Dorne and war. Jaremy, did you complete the task I gave you?” Viserys called once we were all seated.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Jaremy replied and it was the work of the moment not to giggle when I realised he was imitating Joffrey’s calm and stoic demeanour as best he could. He began handing out sheets of paper, reports on Dornish troops and politics.

“Excellent work!” Then Viserys turned to us all, serious expression sliding into place. “My lords, I have received petition after petition for an attack on Dorne. Something has to be done, a decision has to be made!”

“I have a report on the potential for the civil war we were hoping for,” Jaremy told us.

“Well, get on with it!” barked Otto, eyeing him with disgust.

“Now, Otto, I know this is a personal issue for you but do treat your the councillors with respect. You are not the Hand now, you are an adviser,” drawled Corlys. Otto went red with rage and prepared to retort.

“Enough. Jaremy, the report?” Viserys barked, cutting short the entertainment.

“Yes, Your Grace! As you all know the current ruler of Dorne is Princess Aliandra, only two years of age. For a while we had hope that a civil war would see her struggle with her Uncle, Prince Garin, but it seems he has declined to press his suite. Lord Aron Dayne remains Aliandra’s regent and is in good standing with most of Dorne.” Garin had been the youngest of the late Qoren’s brothers, barely out of childhood himself. “In response to this, Garin has chosen exile. Or rather, had exile chosen for him by Lord Dayne. He has all but fled overseas to the Disputed Lands with a compliment of second sons, bastards and Dornish troops. They have raised a mercenary company named the Sunspears.”

“Lord Dayne was on Bloodstone, was he not?” I asked, ignoring the bit about Garin. Mercenary companies came and went like the seasons in the Disputed Lands, I cared about the man who held Dorne for a toddler. Surprised eyes turned to me. No doubt Viserys was wondering how I knew. I would warrant I’d known before he had given Joffrey was the one who fed Jaremy his carefully curated reports.

“He was, Your Grace. He escaped with minor injuries along with Lord Trystane Uller. He beat out the new Lord Walter Wyl for the regency,” Jaremy informed us. “It would seem Lord Wyl holds us responsible for Daemon Targaryen’s actions and Lord Dayne disagrees with him. Lord Wyl was a supporter of Prince Garin and reportedly, only just escaped being asked to leave with him.”

“A Wyl is no easy enemy to have,” said Jasper Wylde, face grim. There wasn’t anyone in this room who would forget the deeds of Wyl of Wyl. The widow-lover. “This Lord Dayne may not last long.”

“I have a mind to hope he does. Lord Dayne is eager for peace,” said Viserys. “He has sent a few missives so far. He has offered us Aliandra’s hand in marriage for any of my sons or grandsons and her dowry includes a sizeable amount of gold and gems.”

I swallowed down bile. A son as prince-consort of Dorne or a Dornish princess as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. No, as ‘attractive’ the idea of drawing Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms peacefully was it would likely destroy the Blacks chances for alliances in the Stormlands and the Reach.

“I think I’ll turn down that generous offer,” I said dryly. “I would be better off marrying my future son to a viper I think.”

The rest of the table chuckled merrily but Otto merely scowled.

“If your Father decides it appropriate, you will do as he says,” he snapped. Corlys clenched his fist and got ready to let insults fly. 

“You will mind your tongue, Lord Hightower,” Viserys said coldly. “My daughter gets first say on who her children marry, just as Alicent decides for hers.”

“I apologise, Your Grace,” Otto said quickly, bowing his head.

“Dorne is in pieces. Qoren did much to buoy it’s economy but the infrastructure it uses to export it’s goods has only just begun recovering from the Dornish Conquests,” I pointed out. “It would be ruinous to attack it, difficult to impossible to hold it and would take even more money in investments to make it profitable.”

“Her Grace speaks truly,” Lyman agreed. “I’m only using estimates, you understand, but Dorne has never truly recovered from Queen Visenya and King Aegon’s reprisal for the death of Queen Rhaenys. It’s income is massively reduced. Further war will only eat into what is left. If we destroy too much we may cause some sort of famine.”

“They’ve also got a knack for disappearing into those deserts of theirs,” observed Corlys with the tone of a man who’d heard of deserts and wanted nothing to do with them. “Or caves in the mountains.”

“Be that as it may,” said Otto, finding his voice again. “The fact remains that the Lords of Westeros want this war. It will not be a popular move to block it. I have received multiple petitions myself. I have been receiving them since the day I arrived.”

“Lord Hightower speaks truly,” said Jasper. “Lord Baratheon and Tyrell are eager for an invasion. Lord Lannister offers his fleet and the Ironborn offer theirs. I’m told there are Riverlords and Valemen eager for battle as well.”

“The only ones who aren’t are the Northmen and nothing gets them out of that frozen hell they call home,” sneered Otto. “Lord Rickon is old and his son a mere babe.”

He was also a die-hard Northern isolationist for all that his brother, Bennard, pushed for an involvement in southern politics. The Starks still stung over the New Gift, over Walton Stark. Everything Alaric, Edric, Ellard and finally Rickon had done since had only reinforced that quiet anger, reinforced the separation from Westeros at large. If they must get involved they would do so as little as they could get away with and they would complain about it the entire time. No wonder they’d been an afterthought in the original Dance.

Viserys let out an annoyed breath and massaged at his temples. Finally, he looked up.

“Can the Iron Throne afford this war, Lord Beesbury?” he asked. Lyman pursed his lips.

“At present, no.” At the aghast looks, he continued a little hastily. “Winter swiftly comes. Spending always spikes during this period and income always falls.”

“After winter then?” asked Otto, leaning forward with an eager expression on his face. “If we can reinforce the treasury, perhaps ask for some donations towards a war fund, we could invade once Winter is over.”

“If the will for war is still there,” I said. “It may well whither and die as the winds of winter blow.”

Damn it. Damn it all. If this war for Dorne kicks off it’ll set us my Blacks back years.

“My daughter speaks correctly,” said Viserys and my heart jumped in delight only to drop a few moments later. “But so does Lord Otto.”

We all waited in silence as the King thought through the best responses. If he said yes, it would be the Black dragons on the front line. Laena, Laenor and Rhaenys for certain. Yet if he said no, he would be leaving himself open to political turmoil in the form of the Marcher Lords going wild.

Damn Otto for stirring this up.

“Should the will for war with Dorne still exist after winter has passed, we shall launch an invasion of Dorne,” decreed the King and my fingers gave a painful jolt as they curled into fists. There was a note of finality in his voice, his face grim. I could understand why.

I did miss Otto’s victorious smile. He had his promise of war, all he needed to do now was stoke the flames through winter. Moving his assassination forward would be unwise and yet I wanted to. He was dangerous, he was running rings around me.

Damn him.

Viserys called for me to stay as the rest trooped out. I forced a smile. I needed to get to my people, needed to discuss how we would counter these calls for war. Yet when the King called, I had to answer.

“How goes your attempts to put together a household for the twins?” Viserys asked once we were alone. I restrained a sigh at the question but just barely.

It was beyond frustrating. I was expected to find nursemaids, maids, stewards, knights, ladies and tutors all before they had even left my body. My own household numbered nearly two hundred, most of which were back at Dragonstone, and Viserys seemed to be under the impression that I would need half of that again to manage the twins.

Not to mention the current argument going on between Viserys and Rhaenys about nursemaids in general. Rhaenys was still adamant I should feed them myself as she had and Laena had. Viserys argued otherwise. Aemma hadn’t, Alicent hadn’t, Alyssa hadn’t - honestly it was getting quite heated and I really couldn’t tell who was in the right. 

I’d asked Laena to look into it for me, I’d written up a fancy proclamation she should be allowed access to any book on Dragonstone she so wished and then pointed her at our ancestral home. I had been told by Joffrey she’d been gone a day and returned with every half mangled dragon manual she had been able to find.

Well, at least her High Valyrian is bound to improve.

Despite the bickering over who was feeding the kids, the Household was a delicate thing. A role serving the newborn babes would be considered an honour, no matter how small the babes were. I charitably overlooked the fact it would bring much prestige and opportunities with it. 

No one was going to be taking advantage of my kids, not unless they wanted to meet Syrax up close and personal. Still, as much as I wanted to tear my hair out over the whole thing, I had to take it seriously.

“Well enough. I have a few maids being trained up by Alannys so they can respond to emergencies. I have some loyal Dragonstone men and women being shipped over.” He frowned and I sighed. “I have not decided on a noble compliment for them yet.”

“You must consider it soon be they boys or girls.” His face softened when he saw my scowl and he drew me into another delicate hug. “I’m proud of you my girl. So proud.”

I let myself return the hug, pulling comfort from him in a way I never usually did when he started with the hugging.

“How is young Lucerys?” he asked when we pulled apart.

“Well enough. A normal baby. He has quite the set of lungs on him,” I reported. Viserys smiled sadly.

“I know I never did right by Daemon but I can do right by Lucerys. If he ever needs anything you tell Lady Laena to come to me.” I winced.

“Yes, I will absolutely tell her,” I said, being very careful not to tense up and then relax. Viserys gave me another sad smile.

“How is… how is your young man?” Oh, he’s trying for fatherly again.

“Well enough. Quarrelling with his sister at the moment over dragon formations. I think Rhaenys is ready to feed them both to Meleys and have done with it.” Viserys chuckled nervously at that and I smiled in amusement. Like Joffrey, Rhaenys still made him nervous.

“Is that usual? I mean, do the Velaryons often quarrel?” he asked eventually. I couldn’t help it, I threw my head back and laughed until my sides hurt.

“Oh gods, it comes to them as easy as breathing. All of them could be excellent mummers. I think you dodged the proverbial arrow when you failed to marry Laena!” He gave me a pained smile and his patented kicked puppy look and I sighed, my own amusement fading.

“Father… I love them all dearly. I would not give them up for the world but that does not mean I think any less of you. If Corlys and Rhaenys were my true parents I’d have run away to Yi-ti years ago.” I only felt a little guilty that I was hiding the truth from him. For all that he genuinely tried, I struggled to love this man as a Father. I struggled to see him as my family.

Telling him that would break him asunder and so I smiled happily as he beamed at me and said nothing.


	72. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 67

Like the Starks are fond of warning us, Winter had come. The White Ravens from the citadel going out to inform everyone that the three year Summer we had enjoyed was over. The once pleasant heat of King’s Landing gave way to a slight chill and I got to enjoy more fires and cocooning myself in blankets.

Even if the sudden change in temperature made my fingers ache terribly.

In the Vale, the Mountain clans were in disarray. Jeyne had stopped the Falcons from chasing them into the Mountains despite Lord Denys’ desire to take the fight to them. Instead she’d ordered them to patrol, to prevent their usual raiding for food and supplies. With Winter bringing freezing winds and snows to the Vale now, the Mountain clans looked to be in for a harsh time. 

I learnt all of this after the fact, Rhea giving the report in an amused voice.

“She has forgiven you but that does not mean she will not try and make you suffer for it,” the lady of Runestone told me as we relaxed by the fire. 

“She wants revenge for my teasing about Maris,” I said, well aware Maris was sitting within earshot. The Grafton snorted oddly and a glance told me she’d just inhaled her juice, much the Sera’s amusement. Then she gave me a look of warning, I smiled sweetly in turn and returned to my aunt.

“Speaking of marriages… I note a handsome young man has being paying court to you?” My aunt, all of three and thirty years, blushed like a maiden. I threw my head back and laughed in delight at the sight.

“I should not be surprised you noted that,” she muttered sourly, face still flushed after I’d calmed down. “I am taking my time.”

“I understand why but Torrhen Manderly seems a charming man.” The fact that he was young enough to be her son went unsaid, even if it was muttered about at court. The Manderlys wanted to make clear that they would not be rallying to the deposed Graftons and they were doing so by literally courting Jeyne’s principal bannerman.

Not that Rhea did not want to be courted by the dashing second son. He had yet to gain the weight he would later on in life and was well-spoken and polite.

“He is charming, well-mannered and clever besides,” she admitted, a small smile growing on her face. I had worried about his suit initially, finding out if he had been serious regarding it had been Maris’ first real assignment as a spy.

He was, as far as we could tell. He was genuinely fond of Rhea despite her age and whilst he was eager to call himself a Lord he was happy to do so as a Royce and not a Manderly. I hadn’t told Rhea I’d had her love interest stalked but it was nice to know for sure.

She’d kill me if she thought I was worrying about her.

“I am happy for you. Regardless, has Jeyne spoke to you about marriage? For all that our correspondence has resumed normalcy this past month or so, she has not mentioned it.” I was well aware pushing the issue with Jeyne would get me back in her bad books but Rhea and Jeyne’s relationship had grown into one of mutual fond exasperation. As a result, Jeyne was sometimes freer with information than she was with me.

“I do not bring up the topic. It is a sore one,” Rhea told me. “I fear it will just bring to mind old fears of hers. Old nightmares. The letter I sent on your behalf… I fear she will not be as quick to forgive me as she did you.”

Ah, Willem. Being asked about marriage by his sister must bring it all back.

We lapsed into silence for a while, listening to the background chatter of Maris attempting to draw Sera into a card game and Sera showing good sense for once and refusing. Rhea smiled softly to herself and I found myself dozing in the peace that followed.

It all seemed so domestic, so warm, that not even the fear of the children’s coming could touch me. Not even fear of Otto, not even here a month for all that it seemed like he’d been here an age. He was still on his best behaviour but Joffrey had predicted that.

Corlys had become more interested in Joffrey’s work now. Something told me that if Maris was to be Joffrey’s first partner-in-crime, Corlys would be his second. Not that Maris was involved in the scheming. She ran the rapidly multiplying gambling dens, her job being to filch as much information from her patrons as humanly possible.

That Joffrey was thinking of handing her the brothels spoke well of her. I trusted his judgement of people. It would also free up a lot of Joffrey’s time and give him a break from sifting through the proverbial crap for the odd diamond. 

“She seems fond of your sister,” Rhea said finally and I forced my eyes open with a yawn in response. “Jeyne that is. She says Helaena is a delight but something of a handful.”

Jeyne had written something similar to me in her letters. Helaena wrote of missing home and missing her siblings and parents. She liked the sights though and Morghul liked the mountains. The fact that Jeyne allowed her to keep practising her bow was another bonus.

That girl was going to be a terror with a bow when she actually reached an age to have a proper one.

“Helaena could win anyone’s heart,” I said, blinking sleep from my eyes. Had I actually dozed off? Another yawn caused my jaw to crack.

“She does complain frequently of housing Morghul though.” I smiled. If the Eyrie had not been built for dragons then the Gate of the Moon were even worse. Morghul was still small enough to fit in the courtyards but that presented a whole different set of problems.

She would only continue to get larger with the whole of the Vale to traverse and no pit to keep her in. Jeyne was already fielding complaining shepherds and goat herders. Viserys had promised a royal allowance to both the Vale and the Westerlands to pay for dragon-related incidents.

Speaking of which, Aegon had actually written to me directly. Not just a few lines in his usual letters to Viserys and Alicent but to me. If he was to be believed, Frost had undergone a similar growth spurt to Morghul and he was curious about why.

I doubt my reply had even reached him yet but combined with Alicent’s declining Greens and Otto’s upcoming death… well, the Dance was looking less and less likely.

“Dragons are certainly not easy mounts to train and control,” I said diplomatically. 

“I’m given to believe you barely house your own in the pit anymore?” Rhea said although it was more a question that statement. 

It was not strictly true. As my pregnancy developed Syrax was rapidly becoming my refuge as everyone and their mother crowded me day and night, attempting to wrap me in more and more cotton wool. In the sky, I could escape everyone but Rhaenys and her children.

Rhaenys approved of the practice I was getting in. Laena and Laenor had both tried to object, worried about the twins, and I had gleefully thrown Laena’s own late pregnancy riding right back at them. With Rhaenys backing me up, they had no choice but to let me fly. Not that it stopped them arranging a schedule as to who would be following me up and when.

The increased time in the air had seen me claim a stretch of abandoned beach for Syrax to nap on. Whilst the surrounding livestock farmers and fishers no doubt hated her, it was easier than the spectacle of the Dragonpit over and over again.

“I pay for the food she hunts,” I mumbled, feeling a little guilty. I actually paid above market price, it seemed appropriate.

“So you do,” murmured Rhea, smiling. “I will depart, niece. I have lords to corral and you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“You do not need to!” I protested as she rose and I struggled out of my chair to follow her. “I am quite able to remain awake.”

She drew me into a hug. She’d become much better at giving them recently, considerably less elbow than the first few I had received from her. 

“Go to sleep. I do remember lecturing you about invincibility. I do not need a repeat of Runestone, especially when you are pregnant.” Then she swept off and I dropped back into my seat and sighed, trying to shake of the exhaustion I felt.

“Are you feeling well, Rhaenyra?” asked Sera, moving around the chairs so I could see her. “If you are tired or feeling ill no one would criticise you if you took to bed now. I can cancel your meal with the Velaryons for you?”

“Yet it would bring judgement regardless,” I said and stood up once more, Sera standing by to help. “I may well rule one day whilst pregnant. I can not be useless for nine months if such a thing should happen.”

And tonight was the night I would tell Laena everything. She had not asked again or pushed the matter since but oh, how I wanted to tell her, to have no secrets between us.

“Don’t be so boneheaded. Cancel the meal and sleep,” Maris said hotly. “Else I shall tell Ser Joffrey and he shall set Lady Laena on you.”

“Lady Laena does not scare me,” I declared, visions of enforced trout dancing across my minds eye. If Laena thought I was dodging needed sleep she’d chain me to the bed. “Perhaps a compromise and we can have the meal here.”

“Does she not? Normally threats such as that work. After all, Jeyne is terribly susceptible to that same threat in regards to Jessamyn Redfort.” I felt the blood drain from my face at that, hand finding the back of the chair.

Oh gods, how long had she known?

“Sera, could you go and inform Ser Laenor, Ser Joffrey and Lady Laena to attend on Her Grace here tonight?” The Strong bustled off, looking worriedly at my pale face. I waited until she was long gone before turning back to Maris.

“How long-” I started but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, since you two started I’d warrant. I didn’t care when it was Jeyne and certainly do not care when it’s you. I think it goes without saying that others would not be so forgiving though.” Breath came a little easier at that and she guided me into my seat and brought me some juice to sip at. “You need not fret so much. Ser Joffrey has already taken me to task on it.”

“Is that so?” I asked, dazed, as she pushed the cup towards my mouth.

“Marya and Falena are the ones you want to watch out for,” Maris said after a while. “To caught up in their Faith, they’ll expose you in a heartbeat regardless of the good will you have built with them. I’m not sure about the Strongs, they’re harder to get a read on.”

I nodded and continued sipping my juice, heart still pounding in my chest. 

“I’ll run interference for you, of course. Jeyne would sulk if I failed to help along such a love story,” Maris finished and a moment later Sera returned.

“I sent a runner to the manse,” she told us. “Do you need the Maester, Rhaenyra?”

“No! No, it is fatigue. I just need good company and then some sleep,” I hastily assured her and she smiled.

“Very well then. Should I call a maid for dinner to be taken here?”

I nodded.

“Tell them to bring meals for you and Maris as well,” I said, regaining something approaching equilibrium. Gods, how I wish Joffrey would tell me when he’d picked up on things like this! Words would be had. “I would not have you both starve because I failed to make my appointments.”

“Oh! Can we break into your liqueur collection?” Sera asked, shooting a covetous glance past me. I glanced at said collection and then shrugged. I’d not drunk in any great amount since I’d found out. The gifts had been checked thoroughly by the Kingsguard and then stacked into the cabinet for decoration mostly.

“If you so wish.” Sera gave a squeal of happiness and began poking through the bottles. Eventually Maris meandered over, drawn by some of the more expensive drinks from Eastern Essos. They’d settled on a type of pear liqueur when Laena entered with Laenor on her heels, both looking beyond worried.

Joffrey hobbled in soon after as they fussed over me. The winter air had the same effect on his leg as it did on my fingers. Laenor was all for him never leaving his offices in the manse and the large fire they boasted but Joffrey had put an end to being babied with aplomb.

I wish I had that skill.

“I’m fine, just tired and wishing for company,” I said, derailing Laena and Laenor’s questions. 

“I thought it might be something like that but you know how those two are,” Joffrey told me, sitting down opposite and stretching his leg out. Laena snorted and rose to go to his side, falling into Laenor’s usual pattern of massaging the broken limb. I caught Laenor’s eye but there was no jealousy there. That was something at least. Instead, my husband dropped his head onto my stomach, pressing his ear to fabric as if he sought to listen for it’s occupants, and smiled shyly at me.

I returned it happily as Maris and Sera began pouring out some of the drink for everyone but me and passed it around.

“To Princess Rhaenyra!” called Sera. “Our future Queen!”

The rest followed toasted along with her and I raised an eyebrow. That was brownnosing I’d expect from Otto Hightower.

“What?” she said in response to my questioning look. “This is Alys and I’s favourite drink. Do you know how expensive it is? Father only lets Alys and I have one small glass about once a year!”

“It’s very expensive. Which is why you should never let Alys at it, Rhaenyra,” Joffrey told me from his own seat as Laenor donated his own glass to Sera with a screwed up face. Evidently not a fan. He laid his head back on my stomach and two seconds later the kids started their usual nighttime party. Startled, Laenor drew his head back.

“Was that…?” he trailed off, hopeful look on his face. I smiled and drew his hand down to where they kicked out once more. Tears sprang to his eyes as his hands roamed over my stomach. Then he giggled like a maiden receiving her first kiss.

“Hello, little ones,” he choked through his tears then dropped his face low to my belly. “I’m your father!”


	73. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 68

I was awoken the next morning to Sera’s pained groaning as she shielded her eyes from the sun that streamed through the not quite drawn curtains. I pushed myself up, trying my best to ignore the kids and looked at her with some concern.

“I should not have drunk so much last night,” she said finally becoming aware of my gaze. “I feel awful.”

“I had not thought you had drank so much?” I said, bemused. She had finished her own and Laenor’s pear liqueur and had partaken in a few cups of wine alongside the rest of us, bar me and my juice, but… well, my ladies own drinking habits had declined with my own. Alys was the binge drinker of the Strong family, Sera had probably lost a great deal of her tolerance.

No doubt her sister would work to remedy that after the babes were born. She groaned again and I fought a chuckle, swinging myself over to pull the bell chord. A maid appeared a moment later and was dispatched to retrieve a volunteer replacement for Sera. I was due to have Alys and Falena today, perhaps one of them might make their way over early.

“When I am clothed you may use my bed to sleep off your hangover in. I will have some water and food sent to you.” When she opened her mouth to protest I raised a hand. “Sleep, Sera.”

“Thank you, Rhaenyra. Truly you are the Mother reborn,” she whimpered, hands covering her eyes again. I smiled and leant back into the pillows, enjoying the feeling of the twins moving about as they were wont to do in the hours after I awoke.

Laenor had finally felt them! That left me smiling widely for some reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The usual chill of fear the morning brought seemed so distant as I lay cocooned in my blankets, stroking my stomach. 

Falena turned up a moment later, covering the ground from my ladies room to mine so fast I wondered if she had access to Littlefinger’s teleporter. She tutted in disapproval at the groaning Sera but helped me dress with only a few acidic comments. Then, without my prompting, helped the Strong girl into my bed without complaint. We left my old friend the chamberpot nearby as well as the water and bread we had requested and she thanked us profusely for it.

“Sots, the both of them,” Falena growled as I seated myself for my own breakfast. “Alys was drunk herself last night.”

“What she does in her off hours is no business of mine, Falena. Besides, Sera’s predicament is my fault.” Falena said nothing in response to that but gave me her usual raised eyebrow of silent disapproval. “How goes Septon Patrek’s work with the charity?”

Her demeanour changed in an instant and she beamed.

“Oh very well! Your excess food from the test farms have worked excellently in supplying some of our worse supplied food banks and kitchens. Septon Patrek can not stop singing your praises,” she said. “I know you still have your reservations but allow me to assure you he only cares for fighting the corrupt Faith.”

Surprisingly, that reassurance meant something to me. Falena was an astute judge of character in the way only Laena was amongst my ladies. Marya was too inclined to fall for a sob story, Maris to cynical and the Strongs to naive.

“It is very easy to turn that to criticisms of the nobility. Might I remind you there are as many corrupt nobles, eager to exploit the smallfolk, as there are corrupt Septons?” I said and Falena nodded.

“I have brought similar worries to the Septon myself although about those who do not follow the Seven. Lord Redfort is a great ally and friend of my father and yet the Redfort boasts a Godswood,” she explained. “I would not see the Faith attack him for that nor would I see them cause issues elsewhere in Westeros.”

“And what did the Septon say to your worries?” I asked, taking a bite of the little fishes wrapped in bacon.

“He said that the Seven must be spread through learning, understanding and love for our fellow man for we are all children of the Seven,” she said proudly. I smiled without really feeling it. It seemed to good to be true, a Septon whose ideals aligned with mine perfectly, who did not desire the Faith militant or political power.

“He said that having blades at it’s back only encouraged the High Septon to act as a King would. He thinks King Jaehaerys did not go far enough when he banned the Warrior’s Sons and the Poor Fellows,” Falena continued. “He thinks he should have rebuilt the Faith, changed it from the High Septon downward. He has been working on his manifesto.”

Septon Patrek was a fanatic but a clever one. The best I could hope for is that he would use me, I would use him and our goals would never wildly diverge. Still, the men I had posted to him agreed with Falena so far. It did not mean he was not hiding his desire for power but it spoke well of him. I would wait and watch him. When I knew what made him tick, what he truly wanted, then I would sleep easier at night.

“Perhaps a lighter topic to eat breakfast over?” I suggested and Falena nodded in turn. “My sister’s nameday approaches and I have yet to find her an acceptable gift!”

“Something archery related is bound to impress her,” drawled Falena, amused. “But there are other options she may enjoy. When she was at Dragonstone with us she seemed fond of tales about adventures.”

Helaena did like stories.

“And I do have a good father who knows an adventure story or two,” I murmured in thought. Not that Corlys hadn’t storied Helaena’s ear off about his adventures already but hiring a scribe and artist to set them to paper with illustrations might be nice gift and if I ever managed to get paper and ink manufacturing up and running it might prove a popular book to sell.

“Yes, I think I shall bother Lord Corlys for his stories once more,” I said with a nod at my lady.

“Lord Corlys does not need bothering much to launch into a recount of his brave adventures. The true comedy occurs when Lady Rhaenys seeks to correct him,” Falena chuckled and my smile grew to match hers. A maid entered and bowed low before announcing the arrival of Laenor, still glad in his training gear. A part of my brain was drooling at the sight of him.

“Good morning, Rhaenyra!” he said cheerfully before dropping to his knee. “And good morning twins.”

They were silent in the face of his greeting.

“They’ve gone shy,” I told him and he beamed at me before standing up again. “What brings you to my rooms so early? You might well have stayed the night and saved Sera the fallout from her hangover.”

“Laena and Joff are hungover as well. Joffrey decided working on the Mushroom conundrum would be soothing and Laena has declared herself your Master of Dragons. Both of them have sealed their office to me,” his smile was rueful and I suspected he’d been locked out more to his exuberance exacerbating their headaches rather than any particular bad feelings on their part.

“Well, it’s nice to see Laena is enjoying the duty I set her,” I said, amused as Laenor dropped into one of the couches with a sigh.

“She enlisted Mother’s help as well. Might I bathe here, Rhaenyra? I still have my chest in your rooms, yes?” I tried to cover my amusement at how full of beans he seemed today but couldn’t quite. Falena seemed to be struggling as well. This was pure Laenor, not the mask of prince-consort he often had in place. Dork.

Falena had the maids heat some water for a bath and we sent him off into my bathing room with a change of clothes from his chest. Falena and I relaxed in front of the fire, her resorting to stitching and myself reading a book I’d received as a gift a month or so ago at that fateful tournament. It wasn’t particularly interesting but it did pass the time well enough that it didn’t feel like an age before Laenor emerged, clean and dressed.

“Falena, could I prevail on you to leave me with my husband this morning? Perhaps go and remind Alys she was supposed to be here quite some time ago.” She drew herself up at that and I mentally apologised to Alys Strong. Laenor took Falena’s vacated seat with an amused smile on his face.

“That was cruel,” he said and I pulled a face at him.

“She would have loomed over both our shoulders all day,” I complained. “I have nightmares about that disapproving sniff she has!”

He laughed at that although not before a pained expression flickered over his own fine features. Falena was well-aware of Laenor’s ill-done dalliance with Jon Hardyng. She had to suspect Correy had also been telling the truth. The duel had proved before the eyes of the Seven that Laenor was not in the wrong but I suspected her grudging silence had more to do with the horrendous double standard between men and women in Westeros than any particular loyalty to him.

“How goes Joffrey’s search for our mysterious friend?” I asked after we’d finished chuckling. Laenor pulled a face in response.

“I haven’t said this to him because it seems to me to be a bit… unsettling but…” he seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. “It seems to me this friend is… well, courting him.”

“Courting him,” I repeated, disbelief entering my tone. Laenor squirmed in his seat before shrugging. 

“His friend makes comes up with some scheme, forcing him to respond. Then he prepares some other scheme in reprisal and his friend effortlessly avoids it. Until recently they never actually damaged one another in this… game, they would simply come close, acknowledge the damage they might have done and let it drop.” He scratched at his chin, embarrassed. “It seems to me it’s more about ensuring Joff sees him than a battle for control of King’s Landing.”

“So you think Alicent’s factor is… trying to get Joffrey’s attention? Would this not imply he thinks Joffrey knows who he is? That he would know who Joffrey is?” I asked. As oddly as Laenor phrased it, it did contain a smidgen of sense.

“I do not know. If Alicent knew who Joffrey was she’d want him dead, whether he held the esteem of her own spymaster or not. I have warned him about such several times,” Laenor said sourly. “I worry for him. Mysaria’s influence has left the city but this friend of his was able to snatch as much of her people as he was.”

“Joffrey is well capable of holding his own,” I said and he nodded, miserable. “But… you might be on to something there.”

Whatever had begun niggling at me the moment Laenor had finished his theory danced annoyingly out of reach and yet I felt it was just on the tip of my tongue, that one more bridge of logic would take me to a realisation that would help Joffrey in his dance with Alicent’s man.

“That he is danger?” said Laenor. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

“No,” I murmured. “No, something you said has my thoughts racing but… they refuse to tell me what has them in such a state.”

Laenor hummed in thought and the creak of the chair told me he’d settled back himself. I poured over what Laenor had said. Alicent’s spymaster had seemed to flirt with Joffrey. It may not actually imply he knew who he was, just that he had seen his effects on the city. Joffrey had said it started after he’d purchased more than a few brothels and knocked out a few low-hanging Greens.

So our friend had seen that and liked his style, bringing his own spy ring to bear in response. Which implies that up until that point he didn’t have it or if he did he was not so invested in it… so had Alicent found him as he’d played with Joffrey? Or had he found Alicent when he realised Joffrey had me? Which would explain…

“Oh,” I breathed, eyes snapping open. Understanding flowed through me like a freight train. “Laenor get me some paper, I need to write this down.” 

He hastened to obey and soon we were both bent low over it as I put ink to paper.

“I think our friend started his own spying before Joffrey but not, as we thought, as Alicent’s agent. I think he found Joffrey later, initiated this game as a way to impress him, to spur him on!” I started. “I think Alicent came later after he realised Joffrey was my factor. I don’t think he actually knows who Joffrey really is, I think he just likes his style. I don’t even know if our friend would tell Alicent because I don’t think he’s hers.”

“You think they are merely allies?” Laenor said, picking up and I nodded. 

“Allies and uneasy ones to boot. I don’t think Alicent killed Mushroom, Laenor. I think our friend was creating his own job opening.”

“He kills Mushroom, makes himself Joffrey’s counterpart in the Greens… He is courting him!” said Laenor, frowning.

“Which means soon enough, I think he’ll reveal himself whether we unmask him or not.”


	74. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 69

That realisation had Joffrey scrambling for the information he’d collected on Mushroom once more. He was determined not be blindsided if our theory proved correct. It was also somewhat hilarious to see Laenor’s outright offence that someone would court the man he loved when they would have to know the truth regarding the two men.

Although, given the ongoing power struggle between Otto and Alicent, I had to wonder if Joffrey’s friend would remain Alicent’s for much longer. A spymaster with that kind of skill and resources at Otto’s beck and call would be a dangerous thing indeed. I was starting to suspect Joffrey was right, that bringing Otto to court where there was enough political upheaval for him to take advantage of was a horrendous idea.

Okay, I know Joffrey was right. I was wrong and Joffrey was right. But now that Otto was here he had to die before he managed to salvage the Greens entirely. No doubt this war for Dorne was his grand plan. Already he was revealing his hand with the plans he was drawing up for the invasion and it’s aftermath. He was advising Viserys to appoint several Stormlanders and Reachman as governors to prevent further rebellion. I was no expert on Dorne, as he was fond of repeating to all and sundry, but that seemed like a bad idea to me.

He’d picked Marcher Lords like the Peakes and the Swanns, lords with grudges who would be happy to avenge a thousand years of raiding and skirmishes on the innocent and vulnerable. If he had his way, Dorne would be bathed in blood for generations.

“Take him away, Laena. He is making too much noise,” I hissed into my pillow, twisting the covers over my head as the sound of Lucerys rolling his egg about drove spikes of pain through my skull.

Time marched on despite my renewed desperation that it should not. The Third Trimester loomed large and my sickness returned with a vengeance, intent on punishing me for getting comfortable. My weight gain continued it’s steady siege on my good looks despite both Laenor and Laena assuring me I was still the Realm’s Delight. It was hard to feel that way when I had gained the start of a second chin.

If the sickness ruined my day, the the twins ruined my night. If they did quiet down sleep was slow to come and not especially restful. I frequently awoke in the morning drained and empty. My entire body seemed to ache in pain with the effort of holding the babes that grew within me and part of me was starting to hate them, hate Laenor and hate the society that was forcing me to carry them.

Exhaustion, sickness and hormones created a potent cocktail and my mood became black. In one moment I would snap vicious insults at my ladies, my husband or my good family and in others the guilt would bring storms of tears and self-hatred. Otto and Alicent capitalised on it with glee, spreading rumours of my rages and my difficulties. Most of their stories seemed designed to give the impression that I would die in childbirth like my mother before me and if I did so it would be the punishment of the Mother for my midwives.

“He is a babe and you agreed to have him in here for the price of having me,” she replied, tone verging on waspish. Then she sighed, pried the covers off of me, chivvied me into a sitting position and laid a hand on my stomach. The children kicked out joyfully in response to my movement and she smiled, then dropped a kiss to my lips. 

“You will be fine. This is the worst part and then you will have two babes in your life. No one will ask for another heir for a long time,” she murmured, breath hot on my ear. Then she retrieved Lucerys and his egg from the floor and settled him between us, curling around him and into my side with a satisfied smile.

“Two years. I do not care if they are boys or girls I’m not having another for at least two years. Longer if I can manage it,” I groused as Lucerys slapped at his egg happily and then drooled on it. She stroked at my hair, unbound after I had been ordered to bed by Gerardys. When I remained unmoved she pulled me close and laid her head on my shoulder. I smiled, even after all this time she still smelt of dragon and sea salt.

“No one shall demand. I shall set mother on them if they do.” A threat that would work on even Viserys I thought with a smile then I grimaced as my headache decided I was not allowed a moment of peace and flared up again. 

“If my next pregnancy is as bad as this one I’ll never have a another,” I whimpered, covering my eyes once more. Nausea swirled in my gut and I forced my jaw to clench tightly. Laena would not appreciate me throwing up on her or her child.

“Joffrey says I am to distract you when you’re like this,” Laena said, poking at my cheek. She was trying for an impish smile but I could see the worry in her eyes. The sudden return and worsening of my sickness and symptoms had everyone scrambling. The subsequent babying and enforced bed rest had not helped my mood. Something told me that if I threw a tantrum when Lucerys was in the room she wouldn’t speak to me for weeks though.

“Joffrey is interfering again,” I mumbled and lay down. My change is position sent Lucerys sprawling in the sheets, flailing as the pillow he had been propped up against shifted. His egg went in the opposite direction, rolling towards the end of the bed and prompting his face to screw up in grief and fear. Laena scooped him up and hushed him, rocking him back and forth. Thankfully, he never started wailing and instead stuck to little sobs which soon died.

“Ah,” she said. “He’s gone to sleep.”

“Is that such a problem?” I asked, trying to poke his egg back towards us with my feet.

“He won’t sleep later but perhaps I should put you both down for a rest now.” I raised my eyebrow at that as she laid him next to me. The egg bumped his toes a moment later and she scooped it over, placing it next to him. His small pudgy hand came to rest on it and I sighed, rolling onto my back. My stomach was aflutter with fear again and I brought my hands to rest on it, chewing my lip without meaning too.

“Go to sleep,” Laena said finally. “I will be here when you awaken. Perhaps, I shall even secure you some treats.”

“That’s bribery,” I muttered, mind going to the potential treats she could get me. Nothing too sweet or anything with a powerful taste which ruled out my usual fare but she had persuaded the owner of the bakery near the manse to experiment a little to produce things I liked.

“I am quite confident it will work,” she said, dropping her head to kiss my temple. I smiled in response and let my eyes flutter closed.

“You have been brave recently. I like it,” I told her and she laughed in response.

“I have kissed you and the world has not ended. You have not sent me away,” she whispered. 

“And Joffrey has a way of getting through your thick head,” I mumbled and she scoffed in mock offence before her hands found my hair.

“I will admit to enduring more than a few of his lectures even before I decided to be ‘brave’ as you put it.” A yawn was her answer as I snuggled deeper into the sheets and she huffed in laughter again.

When I awoke, she was gone. Lucerys was still here, curled up next to me, so she’d likely just stepped out or gone to deal with something. Unfortunately, I awoke said child as I pushed myself into a sitting position and was forced to prop him up against me as he wobbled about trying to roll over. Then I had to chase the escaped egg, still warm from both our bodies, across the sheets and return it to him. He wrapped his arms about it and laid a still sleepy cheek against it.

Me and you both, buddy, me and you both.

A nap had done wonders for my mood, I reflected as I smiled against my own will, had I been left alone with Lucerys before said nap I’d have likely sulked about it for at least an hour. The worst thing was that I knew when I was being unreasonable. I knew it was unfair to take it out on everyone else and yet I did so anyway. Only for the guilt later to drive me to distraction and frequently tears.

The next time I get pregnant something tells me my ladies will resign on the spot.

An odd scratching sound drew me from my thoughts and my eyes found the door. It remained unopened and besides it was unlocked. One of the castle cats maybe? But they so rarely came to private rooms, they’d long since learned they’d be chased away. My heart sped up a bit as I twisted round to look at the window. It was covered by heavy curtains but we were quite far up so that was an unlikely source as well.

Then Lucerys let out a frightened sob and my eyes drifted down to him and his egg. His egg that boasted a spider web of cracks.

The cracks that were spreading, slowly but surely as the contents of the egg struggled to freedom. I lifted him gently away from it, heart pounding fast and settled him on my knee before rolling the egg a little further away. Lucerys’ frightened sobbing stopped as a wing pushed it’s way through the egg and into the air only to vanish into the egg again.

“A dragon,” I said to him, feeling a little stupid for saying something so obvious. “It will be yours. Your birthright.” 

He seemed transfixed as a dark red head of a hatchling pushed it’s way through the gap, the rest of the body trying to follow. When it got stuck, it snapped it’s wings out again, shattering what was left of it’s confines across my sheets and bedding. Much to my annoyance, a great deal of egg goop followed. The hatchling let out that strange gargling screech I’d come to associate with younger dragons and crawled forward, smearing the unnamed goop around it.

It was pretty enough for a dragon. Dark red, verging on burgundy in colour. It’s horns and eyes were darker still, almost black yet I could just make out the red tint to it in the light of the fames that lit my room. It’s eyes and head bobbed about and fixed upon the babe in my lap.

Lucerys reached out with his pudgy hands and the tiny dragon’s tongue darted out across his knuckles at the before rearing back from the excited flailing with another surprised gargle. Lucerys laughed and slapped his hands together and the dragon settled on nibbling on Lucerys’ foot, much to my own heart stopping terror. My heart ceased trying to beat it’s way from my chest somewhat when it failed to draw blood and Lucerys did not indicate pain.

“Laena is going to kill me when she realises she missed this,” I told Lucerys as his happy giggling rose in pitch again. This was early for an egg to hatch, she likely hadn’t even given thought that it might when she’d nipped off to run whatever errand she’d gone on. Normally, they hatched between six months and a year. A year and half would be the absolute cut-off, the deadline for removing the egg from the child.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to which egg would hatch for who. Laenor’s egg, once belonging to Rhaenys, had hatched giving him his beloved Seasmoke yet Laena’s had not and she had later tamed the mighty Vhagar. Rhaenys had tried oh so hard to hatch the egg her son had, using every method she could lay her hands on apparently, refusing to give it up until she had exhausted every avenue only then had she given up and mounted Meleys. Aemon, her Father, had hatched Caraxes and spent many years shying from it yet it had remained true only to him despite his rejections.

This is why Laena’s work would be invaluable. The work she did here might be more valuable to House Targaryen than my own rule, I realised with wide eyes. 

The dragon continued his destruction of my sheets, claws cutting wide gashes in the fabric and Lucerys watched, completely enraptured by his new dragon. Taking care to not disturb them, I leant across and pulled the bell pull. Moments later, the door was opened by a maid who quite impressively got through half her usual niceties before noticing the real life dragon destroying my bedding and trailed off with a frightened squeak.

“Perhaps you can find Lady Laena and a platter of charred meat for me,” I suggested, as she stared pale faced at the newborn. She nodded and fled, leaving the door wide open. I snorted. Something told me she might be tendering her resignation soon. From my lap, Lucerys giggled once more as the dragon made it’s way to end of the bed and nearly toppled over the edge.

“Is that Lucerys I hear giggling?” came Laena’s cheerful voice from somewhere out of sight. “Is your Auntie Rhae taunting you again?”

It was all I could to contain my own giggling when she stepped into the room and stopped dead, eyes wide as she took in the destruction and the dragon. 

“Surprise!” I called cheerfully as her startled face turned to me for an explanation.


	75. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 70

“I can not believe you missed it, Laena,” said Rhaenys, as the brand new as of yet nameless dragon attempted to snatch some charred meat from her hands. It was not doing well, baby dragons weren’t known for their grace or athletics.

“Neither can I,” she sighed before smiling at me ruefully. “It will be good for my work though.”

“Ah, you were the one who set her onto this, weren’t you Rhaenyra? It’s good to see someone cares about the source of our families power!” I didn’t need to ask to know who she was referring too.

“Dragons are a sore point for him. Balerion died at the same time as my brother, Aemon, and I think a part of him died then.” Defending Viserys was a weird feeling but… well, maybe I was softening towards him. His proud father routine, that he hadn’t dropped once since he learned of the babes, was starting to get to me. 

Rhaenys was silent for some time until she finally let the hatchling seize his meal, then she looked up with an expression I had never seen on her face before.

“Perhaps I am too harsh on him at times. I know it must seem that way to you. I do love him, he is my cousin but he is not fit to be king.” I shrugged in response and she snorted. “He should have married Laena, he should have married you to her son. He should have taken control from Otto the moment that man seized it, he should have sent Alicent from the capital the moment she sought to influence you.”

At my silence, she continued, head tilted to gaze at the clouds.

“There is a softness in him. Not nearly like Aenys but it is there. He lets it rule him too often, he hates the pain it causes him too much to go against it.” She looked down at me. “He could not marry Laena because she reminded him of Aemma and because he feared she would meet the same fate.”

“And because he feared having you as a goodmother,” I pointed out, not wanting to start an argument over whether Rhaenys feared the same fate for Laena. Rhaenys snorted in amusement, lips quirking up at the thought.

“I am glad I did not marry him, Mother,” Laena said, her ears red as Lucerys gurgled happily from her lap.

“You would have been Queen,” Rhaenys pointed out but there was no real heat in her tone. I got the sudden sense they’d had this conversation before. “Bah, I know what you will say. I am happy enough to see Laenor by Rhaenyra’s side. Happy enough to see the Lords of Westeros bow to a woman.”

Laena smiled at that and Rhaenys hummed before procuring another cube of charcoal meat for the dragon. Lucerys laughed as it once again began it’s back and forth scrabbling for the treat Rhaenys dangled in front of it.

I let my thoughts wonder. Alicent and Otto had been up in arms about another Velaryon dragon. It was one thing to let Rhaenys’ children have dragons but their children too? It meant that for at least three generations the Velaryons would have access to power no other house but the Targaryens did. It was establishing them as a cadet branch, the optics were not great for House Hightower. Viserys had defended Lucerys though and he’d managed it without making any referral to Daemon, which I considered impressive.

Annoyingly, the birth of a new dragon so soon after the decision to go to war with Dorne once winter was at an end was being viewed as some sort of blessing by those who cared about that sort of thing. I would have to be careful of that or I may just end up getting sucked into a war I did not want. Still, I had dug out those long forgotten plans for a procession across Westeros once more. Now that my due date loomed ever closer, it seemed like a good idea to start planning once more.

The Stormlands would likely be first, then the Reach. Followed by the Westerlands, the Iron Islands, the Riverlands and the North. The Vale would be my happy ending to the whole thing, providing Jeyne didn’t strangle me or Helaena didn’t plan my assassination. There were still the little details to hammer out of course but the rough plan had been easy to assemble.

“Mother could you look over some of my research tonight?” asked Laena, breaking the awkward silence. Rhaenys paused in her teasing of the young hatchling and raised a black eyebrow.

“What subject?” she asked. 

“General hatching methods. Aelyx’s writings disagree with Aenar’s originals.” Rhaenys hummed at the question. The hatchling apparently sensed her distraction and scrabbled off around her elbow to lay siege to the platter. Both Laena and Rhaenys seemed intent on the conversation and so his feast went undetected by them. I almost had to cram my fist in my mouth to stop my giggling.

“What does Gaemon write?” asked Rhaenys.

“Surprisingly little so far. He agrees with Aenar at times though.”

“Hm, I’ll look it over. I would have thought the man who hatched Vhagar and Meraxes would have more to say on the matter.” The current rider of Vhagar beamed and nodded, then noticed the hatchling and my evident amusement before frowning.

“Mother, he’s had the entire platter!” she exclaimed as I got witness a dragon vomiting for the first time ever.

Merriment over we trooped inside, Laena cradling a very unhappy hatchling and Rhaenys carrying the sleepy Lucerys.

“You should move back to the manse for your pregnancy,” Rhaenys said, making me pause in surprise.

“I’m not sure Father will put up with that. He wants me close.” Laena tensed a little, well aware of the consequences that Viserys could bring down for disobedience.

“Of course he does. Worry wort,” she smiled fondly. “He was all of fourteen when I fell pregnant with Laena and yet I swear he fretted over me more than my father did.”

“That’s surprising,” I said as we reached Laena’s room and deposited Lucerys in his crib and the dragon in his wicker cage. “Besides, if I moved here again I might miss out on those wonderful family dinners he keeps planning.”

It was one dinner but he’d ambushed me with it after Alicent’s meltdown about the egg. Naturally I was thrilled about that and approaching it in a purely rational manner. Ugh, it was part of his ‘repair family bonds’ attempts and I’d agreed to drag Laenor along with the caveat that I could leave if I became overly ill. He’d agreed with a look that said he’d better see some real evidence of illness if I decided to bounce halfway through. 

Marya and Alys helped me dress that night, fastening me into a dress reminiscent of the Riverlands style with a dash of Westerlands in the layers. I even elected for a little bit of bling. Tasteful though, I wasn’t going to weigh myself down with an entire mines worth. Experience had taught me Alicent was happy to wear something bordering on scandalous to rub in the salt about the changes to my own figure. I scowled at myself in the mirror and then more deeply when the twins started up with their shit. I laid a hand on my stomach.

“You better be well behaved tonight or you’re being born grounded,” I told them.

“Your Grace?” Alys called from the other room and I blushed at being caught.

“Nothing, Alys. I was talking to the children,” I called back and she laughed.

“I can not wait to meet them,” she said, entering behind me with one of my nicer mantles. “Twins like Sera and I!”

“If they’re half as rambunctious as Sera and yourself I’m running away to Essos. Lyonel probably considers his position as Hand a respite from the two of you,” I commented dryly. The girl just laughed.

“We do like our pranks and we’ve even gotten Larys one or two times!” she said, grin stretching her face. “But… well, it’s the greatest thing in the world to have a twin. It’s another part of yourself. We even had our own little language when we were children.”

“Oh, do tell me about catching Larys out,” I said. Larys only grew more serious as the months went on, not that I saw him that much these days. 

“Oh the classic water over the door, once we painted ink on that Myrish far-eye he so loves and another we covered him in flour!” I laughed along with her. “You think he would be grumpy with us but he would just smile and promise to get even with us someday.”

There was a fond smile on her face. Larys may be the butt of all jokes in the Strong family but anyone of them would happily kill an outsider who mocked him. I liked that about them.

“Did he ever?” I asked as she fastened the mantle.

“Oh! No, never. We’re much too good!” she chuckled. “Sera says she doesn’t even think he ever tried.”

“Well, you shall have to invite him for a meal after I have had the children. He is a friend and we haven’t spoken in so long,” I said finally as she straightened the mantle to sit properly on my shoulders and stepped back.

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Alys said with a smile. 

“Who would like what?” asked Laenor, stepping into the room and looking as handsome as ever. He’d had a haircut recently, I noted, his silver hair had been cut to shoulder length and he was in the process of tying it back. He had people to do that, of course, but his insistence on staying at the manse meant they weren’t here.

“Inviting Larys for a meal,” I said, coming over to help him with his hair.

“Oh, he seemed quite nice. Quiet fellow though. Thank you, Rhaenyra,” he mumbled and let his hands drop. “Oh how I wish we did not have to attend this tonight.”

“You and I both, husband,” I said. “But when Father calls we must answer.”

“We can always set mother on him,” he suggested and I laughed. Rhaenys had become a go to threat for her children in recent months.

“That would be cruel. Your mother is a force of nature.” That made him cackle.

“There is a reason that Father married her. He says every time he is with her he is reminded of sailing through a storm.” That was positively romantic from Lord Corlys.

“Well, I know what drew your father to your mother but honestly I don’t understand what her stake is,” I said and Laenor smiled, eyes gleaming with mischief, stepping away from me as I finished his hair. Then he laid his hands on my hips and planted a kiss on my lips.

“And here I thought Velaryon men were irresistible for you Targaryen women,” he teased and I realised I was blushing a deep and vibrant red. Oh, he’s back to playing that ridiculous game of his.

“Not so irresistible that I will not slap you if we are late,” I mumbled back, placing my hands on his cheeks. I let him initiate another kiss only to pull back as Marya and Alys got the giggles at our display of romance. Or rather, Laenor’s display of teasing me. It was, I’d come to realise, something he took immense pride in beyond the obvious alibi it gave us. My blushes were a source of ongoing amusement for him. Joffrey and Laena too. 

I could understand his position. Blushes won from those three on my part were always satisfying too. Admittedly, I won them from Joffrey and Laena in the privacy of the manse lest Alicent decide to concoct another little story for the court.

Not that her control of rumours should be so complete these days, I mused as we began our journey arm in arm. We now knew that Mushroom had been the progenitor and purveyor of many of her more damaging rumours. Without him at hand… well, court gossip was hard to control. Mushroom had a talent that I doubted many others had. Our friend had struck a massive blow to her and still managed to forge an alliance.

I wonder if he lied to her? Told her some story about Mushroom betraying her to justify his actions. I had not heard any Blacks speaking of Mushroom or any kind of mole so I doubted he had actually been planning those things. It could be our friend killed him to create a job opening or Mushroom made a joke about it. We’d answered a few questions and yet were just as in the dark as when we started.

“Brooding?” asked Laenor.

“No, thinking about Joffrey’s friend.” Laenor laughed at that.

“Joffrey will have him soon enough. Do not doubt his skill,” he assured me.

“There are too many mysteries in this world at the moment, Laenor. Can you blame me for tackling the one that I have a chance of solving?” I asked as my mind went to the foundations of Runestone, Joffrey’s friend, the reason Black Powder did not work on Westeros and everything that ever came out of Wisdom Jerrett’s mouth regarding magic and alchemy.

We came to halt in front of the doors that led to another fun family dinner and paused to compose ourselves before one of Viserys’ men pulled the door open and we were announced. Greetings were called as were shown to our seats and we’d barely sat down before another two guests arrived.

Ah, great. Viserys has invited Otto and his son.


	76. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 71

We started off with a small bowl of pumpkin soup and fresh bread. The pungent aroma set my stomach rolling the moment it was placed before me and that, combined with the initial distinct lack of alcoholic drinks, tipped me off as to who was likely involved in choosing the menu. I sighed, resigned myself to a unpleasant night, and forced a few spoonfuls down before Daeron’s fussing gave me an escape I seized with both hands.

“It does not seem like it has been a year since I first saw him.” I said, attracting the tables attention. “He has grown so much and already walking!”

In truth, he was as average as toddlers got but the implication that walking at about sixteen or seventeen months was special had Viserys preening as he gazed at he third son with evident love and pride. Alicent merely gave me a tight smile, Otto looked constipated and Gwayne took the opportunity to drop his spoon with relief. I frowned at that. The accident Joffrey had arranged had damaged his arm most of all, forcing him to use his off hand. Ambidextrous this boy was not yet Otto did not seem to care his son could barely feed himself.

“He will be a fine addition to House Targaryen,” said Otto after a moment of evaluating what I could possibly mean by my phrase. There were a small crowd of nobles Black and Green both that figured I couldn’t possibly love my siblings, Otto was evidently a member.

“He cries too much,” groused the only sibling I’ve ever given an actual thought to physically harming. Aemond was taking this whole dinner as well as Daeron which was impressive given the almost four year difference in age between the two. The time of Aemond’s fostering was looming ever closer and his behaviour continued to degenerate. I had to wonder if Alicent was egging him on. If she was, Viserys would have her measure soon enough.

“He is a babe. They cry, Aemond. You and Aegon did so endlessly. Lucerys does so. When he is older you will think differently.” My voice managed to hit warm despite the smell of pumpkin making me want to vomit but all Aemond did was clench his fists and stare at his own untouched soup. Viserys cleared his throat.

“Well said, daughter,” he said, smiling. The others at the table made hasty nods whilst Otto barely covered up his utter disgust with his second grandchild. Another thing they’d disagreed on, according to Joffrey’s spies, not that one needed spies to hear of the arguments between father and daughter these days. They were quite happy to bellow at one another within earshot of even hardcore Blacks. Otto found the mess she’d made of Aegon and Aemond alarming. He’d also pointed out Helaena’s obvious attachment to me as a problem. Honestly, Daeron was the only grandson who did not meet with scorn and that was because he was too young to have managed to disappoint his grandfather yet.

We carried on eating, or rather everyone else did. I took the opportunity to let my stomach relax a little. It very much did not approve of the pumpkin soup. As the awkward silence descended once more, Laenor gave me a pleadingly look. I gave a half a thought to vomiting all over the table but I couldn’t do it on command and whilst the pumpkin soup was pungent it wasn’t enough to truly set it off.

“Do you not like pumpkin soup, Rhaenyra?” asked Alicent as the rest finished up. Minus her brother who’d gotten through half his dish and gotten most of it down his doublet. I felt a pang of sorrow at that. He’d used to be such a lively lad, the apple of many a woman’s eye. Now… now he could barely raise his eyes from his soup and could barely hide the embarrassment at being so helpless.

“My stomach does not, I fear,” I replied, immensely discomfited. I had caused Gwayne’s accident. Indirectly but I still had. Alicent’s thin smile would have made me angry were feelings of guilt and nausea not conspiring to make this dinner extremely unpleasant.

“Rhaenyra and I are very glad to see you on your feet, Ser Gwayne,” Laenor said smoothly, giving me time to grab some juice in attempt to settle my stomach.

“Thank you, Ser Velaryon. Thank you also for the help of Maester Gerardys, Your Grace. I am in your debt,” he said in reply, eyes flickering up. Otto’s thin smile dropped back into place but curiously, Alicent’s smile was a lot more warm. He was her baby brother after all and I imagine that Otto was not the warm and friendly father figure Viserys was. I felt a pang of something at that and turned my attention to him. He caught my gaze and smiled, so I returned it, causing his own to widen in turn.

The servants came and collected the dishes and went off to prepare the next course. 

“Have you given anymore thought to the recommendations I provided on Dorne, Viserys?” asked Otto. It was odd to see him referring to Viserys in such an informal way. I was used to the simpering your grace’s that seemed tailor made to set my teeth on edge.

“Hmmm, I’ve given them a look over Otto, but truly I think we should wait before we decide on any solid plans. The war may not even happen yet,” he rumbled by way of reply. Otto nodded and took a drink of wine. “Besides, I do believe I requested no politics. This is a meal to celebrate our family!”

“Of course, Viserys, I apologise. This business has me out of sorts I suppose,” Otto replied after he’d placed his cup back into place.

“Oh I quite understand. This business with Dorne seems to have come out nowhere.”

“Marcher Lords are a proud lot. They see a weakened Dorne as an opportunity and things seem to have spiralled from there,” Otto said. “They are eager for glory.” 

“Revenge,” I said. “They are eager for revenge.”

Otto smiled that thin smile as even Gwayne’s head shot up to stare at me. 

“They want to repay the Dornish for their raiding and rapes, for the pain they’ve caused in the marches over the years. If any one of those houses are placed in charge of Dorne after we win, there will be a bloodbath.” I was surprised by how heated my own tone was. Otto went to answer but Laenor cut him off.

“I agree. There is a lot of bad blood in court right now, all of it aimed at the Dornish. I dread to think what may happen if those men are given innocents to rule.”

Viserys stroked at his moustache and hmmm’ed thoughtfully.

“Something to bear in mind, Father,” I said, cutting off Otto once more. Then Alicent joined in, leaving her father floundering somewhat.

“Please, there are children at the table,” she said, smile strained. “Viserys, we agreed no politics.”

I let my eye wonder to Daeron, who was still chewing on some left over bread and Aemond, who was scowling at his shoes as he kicked his feet back and forth. I arranged my face into a smile and gave her a nod.

“You are right. My apologies, my Queen.”

“Indeed, daughter,” Otto managed to choke out. The next course interrupted whatever she was going to say to that and my stomach gave an almighty heave as pork seasoned with mind boggling amount of spices were laid out before us. A dazzling array of vegetables, also well seasoned, provided a side.

“You have gone pale, Rhaenyra, are you well?” asked Alicent, eyes twinkling with amusement. I clenched my fingers around my fork and forced a smile.

“Well enough.” Nausea forced my voice into a half-whisper which drew Viserys’ concern.

“If you need to leave…” he said, frowning.

“Pungent and strong smells make her sickness worse,” Laenor explained to Viserys. “I am somewhat surprised the kitchens did not know. They have been instructed in the past.”

Viserys suspicious violet eyes travelled over to Alicent who was poking at her pork and looking shocked. I had to hand it to the bitch, she was certainly an excellent actor. She feigned that shock so well even I wanted to believe her.

“But I was very clear who would be attending!” she gasped. “Rhaenyra, you have my word I will speak with them about forgetting such a requirement.”

“Thank you, my Queen,” I mumbled. Then my throat clenched and I nearly did retch all over their meal. Laenor stood up swiftly and pulled me up with him. Viserys followed him up, eyes wide with concern.

“I shall take her back to her rooms, Your Grace, else I fear an accident.” Viserys nodded then turned his eyes back to Alicent who looked very concerned. So concerned it wasn’t possibly real concern in fact.

“Do you require any help, Ser Laenor?” asked Gwayne, also rising. Laenor took pity on him and Gwayne joined me a moment later, both men almost hauling me along in a way I wanted to protest I did not need and yet… yet doing so would see me throw up on them. When we were safely away and by a window, I was allowed to lean my head out for a while. King’s Landing was not fragrant by any stretch of the imagination but it beat Alicent’s idea of a hearty family meal.

“You may escape, Ser Gwayne,” Laenor was saying. “Thank you for your aid.”

“I should thank you, Ser Laenor. I have no idea why Father dragged me to that dinner but it was quite excruciating. Truly, the confessors must weep to have never devised a torture so painful,” he retorted. I laughed and then groaned before pulling my head back in. Sweat was prickling across my forehead and the little pumpkin soup I had forced was suddenly sitting very uneasily in my stomach.

“We need to go,” I gasped out and Laenor’s widened with alarm before he scooped me into his arms, called a good bye to Ser Gwayne and took off at full speed down the hallways. If I weren’t so damn sick that might just have induced a case of the vapours. As it stood, all I could lament was that every jolt and jostle sent my stomach spinning even worse.

We eventually reached my rooms without me soiling myself in public but it was a near thing because we’d barely stepped inside the room when it did come up and I was left covered in it due to the angle Laenor was carrying me at. Which naturally did not help matters and left me retching more. To his credit, he did not drop me in disgust although I could tell the thought had crossed his mind.

Instead he left me to Marya and Alys’ ministrations as he went off to change his clothes. The two women had rushed from their seats the moment Laenor had slammed the door open with me in his arms and were quick to strip me to my shift and small clothes and reintroduce the chamber pot to my life. Then they called for the maid to draw some hot water for me with emphasis on hot. I gave them both a grateful smile. Laenor returned a moment later, dressed in fresh clothes and looking worried.

“I knew you did not wish to attend the meal but this was a little drastic, no?” joked Alys as we waited for my bath to be filled.

“Everything served tonight read like a list of what would set her off,” said Laenor stiffly. “And Alicent very much planned it that way.”

At that both my ladies gained dark looks on their faces. Laenor nodded in response to their outrage.

“I am going to fetch Alannys to give you a look over, Rhaenyra. I know it’s just sickness but we do not know what those seasonings were. If it is something dangerous to you or the child…” he trailed off and I nodded. I suspected it was the smell, tailor made to send my stomach spinning by Alicent because she was a vengeful cow that couldn’t let things go even when it would be healthier for her too.

“We will keep a close eye on her, Ser Laenor,” promised Marya. He bid them both goodbye and disappeared out the door. We waited in silence and as time went on, my stomach slowly settled.

“I’ll kill that woman one day,” I vowed as I settled into a low couch with Alys’ help. Then at, at Marya’s stricken expression, I elaborated. “I jest. I would not kill her but when she is as petty as this it is hard to remember the Seven and their teachings of forgiveness and compassion.”

An awkward silence descended and Alys Strong rode to my aid.

“Well, generosity is part of worship and a certain sister of mine tells me you have a certain bottle in your collection,” she said, eyeing said bottle, and I laughed. 

“Alys that is completely inappropriate,” Marya gasped, thoroughly distracted from my momentary slip by how gods-damn rude she was for asking.

“You may have some, Alys, as long as you understand that if you drink it all your sister will gut you,” I told her, remembering the storms of panic and tears she’d coaxed me through in recent months. She could raid that alcohol all she liked for the friendship she’d given me.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she replied. “I’ll definitely leave her some. Half a glass should be fine, right?”

I was saved from replying by Marya helping me to my feet as a maid announced the bath ready. Alys tipped her glass to me and took a gulp as the door shut. I was helped into the warm water and sighed at how heavenly it was.

“You better keep an eye on her,” I murmured finally.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on you,” said Marya and I could picture her worried frown. 

“I will shout should I require aid. Truly, if you do not watch her she will have the entire bottle and half the cabinet to boot.” Marya groaned, no doubt remembering the morning Alys had been found half-conscious in the stables at Dragonstone.

“Very well, Rhaenyra, but you are not to climb out of that bath without aid!” she told me, eyes serious. “You will hurt yourself… Seven help me if you fall!”

“Go,” I chuckled. “You have my oath that I will call for you should I need to get out of the bath.”

She went and I sighed happily, settling myself in for a long soak. Then I would be due a poking… sorry, a visit by Alannys that would no doubt result in her chiding me about fried goods. Ah well, I could deal with that. At least I was out of that awful dinner.

And then I heard Marya scream.


	77. Approaching Motherhood - Chapter 72

The fear the scream brought drove me upright and sent water splashing over the sides of the bath, drenching my surroundings. My heart beat like a drum in my chest as I listened for any indication what had happened. There was nothing but silence, no sound of metal on metal, no sound of any fighting…

“Marya!” I called, wondering if Alys had decided to play some cruel prank on the woman yet Alys was not given to doing so if she was ‘on duty’. “Marya! Alys! I am getting out of the bath!”

A crash of the door to my rooms slamming open and Ser Steffon’s shout to raise the alarm was my only answer. I climbed to my feet before my mind caught up with what a stupid idea that was. By the time I realised how fucked I was it was too late, the world seemed to move beneath me and like the queen of all idiots, I toppled backwards over the rim of the bath. 

I saw stars for a moment as the back of my head bounced off the floor. My legs seemed to be afire as I struggled to pull them over the rim of the bath. Tears burned in my eyes at the pain. The pain in my legs, the back of my head and the pain in my back.

A fluttering feeling caused my stomach to tense into a cramp and I raised a fearful hand to my belly.

Seconds later, Ser Steffon Darklyn reached me, eyes wide with worry. His white cloak was draped over me and to my horror I discovered that my legs weren’t quite up to the task of holding me upright. I whimpered as I realised I likely had a whole host of pulled muscles. But my pain was not important. 

Marya had screamed.

“Your Grace-”

“I fell when she screamed. By the Seven what happened!?” At my question he gave me a pained glance and I became aware of Marya’s sobbing. “Marya! Alys!”

“Rhaenyra! Do not… Do not leave the room. Ser Steffon has sounded the alarm.” Was Marya’s choked reply and I could tell she was sobbing. Fear boiled within me and another spasm, another clench, had me bend over with a groan.

Alys had not answered me, I realised.

“Your Grace… the babes?” he asked, eyes wide. “It is too earl-”

“No. Not this early. False contractions. Take me through there,” I told him. It had to be false contractions. If they came now, they would die and not even my midwives would save them. So it had to be false contractions.

“Your Grace, you must not,” he said, then his eyes went even wider and a look of horror grew over his face. “Your Grace, you are bleeding.”

He raised a shaking hand to the back of my head and withdrew it, fingers red with my blood. I groaned at the sight.

“I do not care about me, tell me what has happened or take me through there!” I commanded him.

The sound of more men pouring into my rooms was my only answer as Ser Steffon closed his eyes and helped me along, like I was somehow leading him to his execution. My legs burned with pain as I forced them the bear at least some of my weight and now that Ser Steffon had pointed it out, I could feel the blood on the back of my head and soaking into his cloak.

Another false contraction made me grit my teeth but I was not about to let that stop me.

“Where is Her Grace!?” demanded the voice of Criston Cole. 

“Right here, Lord Commander. Now will somebody tell me what is going on? Where are Alys and Marya?” Cole turned at my voice, full of barely suppressed panic, frowning when he saw my nudity covered only by Steffon’s cloak but my eyes weren’t on him.

They were on Alys Strong.

Or the body that had once been Alys Strong.

“No,” I moaned before I could help myself. No, this wasn’t real. This was some head-wound induced punishment. My legs gave way and Steffon caught me, picking me up bridle style as tears blurred my vision and my heart ached fiercely. “No, not her.”

It wasn’t real.

“I found her- I went to prepare a night gown- she was just lying there,” Marya choked out. Tears made it hard to see but the last moments of Alys Strong’s life had been panicked. The glass of liqueur she had been drinking had spilled across the floor and I could see blood where she had clawed at her own throat. Her eyes were still open and her expression told me she’d died terribly afraid. Then one of the guards laid his cloak over her as if noticing my horror.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

“We have sent a runner to the Hand, Your Grace,” said one of the other men quietly. “And the King.”

I couldn’t answer through my sobs. Alys had been innocent. She had not deserved such a cruel death, had never harmed anyone. Gods and Sera. This would break her. They had been close even for twins. It did not seem real. It could not be real.

I struggled in Steffon’s arms, wanting to go to her, to shake her awake and tell her that this prank was not appreciated. The black cloak did not move. Nobody shouted that I had been fooled.

“Her Grace is bleeding, Ser Darklyn,” said Cole slowly, his tone icy. I managed to drag my gaze to him and saw nothing in his cool expression.

“It doesn’t matter about me!” I screamed at him. Cole’s gaze shifted to me in surprise. “I’m not dead!”

“She struck her head attempting to get out of the bath,” Ser Steffon replied as if I hadn’t just screamed at his superior. He kept an expert hold on me as I struggled to launch myself at Cole. Another contraction made me gasp and stop my struggling, Cole’s expression went from cool and blank to worried.

“Take her to the Grand Maester. Now!” the Lord Commander ordered in a thunderous tone. Ser Steffon nodded and I struggled in his arms once more.

“No! No! You will leave me here! I will stay with her!” I ordered but was ignored. Fresh tears streaked down my face as my struggling amounted to nothing in Ser Steffon’s arms. 

“Ser Darklyn!” Steffon paused and glanced back at Cole. “You will stay by her side until you are relieved. No matter how long this matter takes.”

My white knight half bowed in response and we stepped out into the corridor. The ache in my heart burned once more. I wanted to struggle but yet another contraction ended that plan as soon as it entered my head.

It could not be real. It was not real.

Lorent Marbrand met us half way down the corridor, his eyes wide with fear as he saw my form wrapped in Steffon’s bloodstained cloak. Behind him, panting and struggling to draw breath was my father. The King did not look well, his skin blotchy as he choked and wheezed.

“Your Grace,” Marbrand started. “Princess Rhaen-”

Viserys head snapped up and he surged forward, hands finding my cheeks and looking half out of his mind with worry. His placed his forehead against mine and provoked fresh round of sobbing from me.

“Rhaenyra! Rhaenyra, what happened!?” he gasped. 

“They killed her. They killed her.” Was all I could sob out. “She’s dead and it should have been me.”

Viserys went pale at that but I couldn’t see his expression through my tears. His hands left my cheeks and I sobbed again at the loss of contact. I wanted, for the first time since Daemon, for him to hold me close and tell me everything was okay. 

“Ser Marbrand, oversee Ser Cole in his investigation. I will take my daughter to the Grand Maester,” Viserys said finally and lifted me gently from Steffon’s arms. I curled close to him as my back and legs screamed in protest, sobbing into his fancy brocade doublet.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice, once we were moving again.

“Alys Strong appears to have been poisoned. According to Lady Stokeworth, she was drinking alcohol meant for the Princess,” he reported. I heard Viserys’ breath leave his body in a single explosive breath and he was silent for sometime. I clutched at him tighter and he responded in turn. 

“And the head wound?” he asked, voice a whisper.

“She fell-” A contraction made me cry out in surprise and Viserys swore. “She said they were false.”

“It does not matter. Take me back Father, I don’t want to leave her,” I choked out and Viserys shifted his hold on me. I wasn’t even sure where we were in the Keep currently. “I should be there. I should tell Lyonel. It’s my fault.”

“It is not your fault, little fire. It is not,” whispered Viserys. The old nickname Prince Baelon had once used for me set me wailing into his shoulder. “Alys Strong was every bit a good woman as her father is a good man.”

“She’s nothing because she’s dead!” He winced at my volume and I buried my face in his shoulder once more. We reached the tower soon after and he placed me oh-so-gently down on the bed Mellos indicated. 

“No! No! Gerardys,” I gasped, barely able to see the old man through my tears.

“Maester Gerardys is not here. I am quite adequate,” I could have sworn his voice was a sneer. Viserys curled his hand in mine.

“I will be here, little fire. Should he fail you like Runciter I shall have his head along with whoever did this,” Viserys assured me. I leant into his shoulder once more and he dropped an arm round my shoulders.

“She struck her head on the floor. I fear she has injured her back and pulled the muscles in her legs. She also told me she was experiencing false contractions,” Ser Steffon was saying.

I was pulled forward so the Maester could get a look at the back of my head. Something damp and cool dabbed at it and I sobbed in pain rather than grief this time. I did not know if it was my tears or the head injury but a fierce headache had started up and showed little signs of abating.

“Hmmm, not as bad as it looks, Your Grace. Head wounds bleed a lot.” Mellos’ voice was calm and cool as he gave his judgement and I wanted to scream at him for being so calm when Alys was dead. Viserys’ warm hand folded around mine and I settled for another choked sob. “It will heal without stitches.”

“Her back and legs?” His hands settled on my thigh above my knee and it was all I could do to not scream at him for an entirely different reason. Alys had once said he had the eyes of a pervert and that thought had me struggling from him and my crying renewed. The blurry figure of Mellos raised his hands in defence at Viserys’ and Steffon’s unseen reaction.

“I can not examine her if she struggles,” he whined.

“Then we will wait for her Maester to arrive,” said Viserys coolly. 

“I suppose she does not wish a cervical examination?” he sulked and if I had not been unable to move I would have flung myself at him. As it was both Viserys and I were prevented from doing such a thing by Ser Steffon seizing the grey rat by the front of his robes and frog-marching him out of the room.

“She must rest but do not let her sleep! If she vomits call me back in! And keep an eye out for behaviour changes!” he shouted through the door.

“I should have prevented this. I should have ensured the bottles were double checked. I will submit to whatever punishment you deem fit, Your Grace,” Ser Steffon said as his blurry form crashed to a halt at the end of the bed. Viserys’ hand rubbed a comforting circles on my shoulder, then it stilled. I caught his fingers with my hand and he dropped a kiss to my forehead.

“Who was responsible for checking them the first time around, Ser Darklyn?” From the dangerous tone in his voice he already knew and merely wanted the confirmation. I should feel sorry for him. Viserys was likely to kill him or worse and Joffrey had brought in people to check those bottles after he had and had found nothing amiss.

Alys Strong was dead. 

“Ser Criston Cole,” said Ser Steffon. “He had them checked after the tourney.”

“I see,” He moved from my side and I whimpered at the loss even as he dropped another kiss to my forehead. “Little fire, I shall find who did this. I’ll find who tried to kill you and I shall see justice done.”


	78. Interlude - Criston

He had worn his white cloak for over a decade. He had been Lord Commander for three of those years. He had replaced the finest knight to ever serve, he had been destined for great things. 

He tried not to think of her. Tried not to think of the blood or the poison. Tried not to think of how helpless she’d looked in Darklyn’s arms. His mind would not obey. It taunted him, bringing her broken form across his mind’s eye again and again.

He hated her and loved her. He wanted her dead and wanted her alive. He wanted her at his mercy and wanted to follow her once more.

When had he become so twisted?

“How did this happen!?” Viserys scream was filled with rage. “You were in charge of checking for this precise situation!?”

He had no answer. He had checked. He’d done his due diligence. He’d missed something. He’d failed. Only luck had saved the Princess. Luck and not her white knight.

“Your Grace,” said the queer little Ser Joffrey when he had nothing to say in his defence. “I independently had the bottles checked.”

His King was pale with rage yet the knight seemed to not to care, he did not quail in the face of it. Lesser men had. Joffrey forged on with an officiousness that he wanted to sneer at. That was no true way for a knight to act. Yet this one had never acted like a knight, he recalled with disgust. That this Joffrey should have her esteem when she would not even look at him. This knight had more carnal knowledge of her husband than she likely did and she did not care. She held him close. She held that disgusting excuse for a lordling even closer.

He burned with jealousy at the both of them. Those children should have been his. He had been hers in spirit, why not in body too?

Both are more of a knight than you have ever been, whispered a voice from the recesses of his mind. The dark part that taunted him with his mistakes and failures.

“Ser Steffon gave me access to the work Ser Cole did in regards to checking for poison. The bottle was not listed amongst the items checked.” Terror squirmed in his gut. Was this the bastard’s revenge? Was this how he would get even for the blow that had crippled him? “I compared it to my own lists. Curiously, the bottle was not listed there, either.”

Confusion replaced the fear and then shame. This Joffrey Lon- no, Velaryon, wanted only to protect her. Protect her in a way he had failed to. Shame burned in his gut then.

“So you both failed,” his King said, hands clenched so tightly on the arms of his chair he feared they may break under the pressure. The other man shook his head. He was brave, this little knight.

“It was added to the cabinet afterwards. I do not know when but with Ser Steffon’s aid I am undertaking a thorough questioning of everyone that had access to that room.”

“You are my Daughter’s creature, Ser Velaryon,” said the King, his knuckles white with the effort of restraining himself. “It is the only thing that has saved you from punishment for this failure. She will punish you herself, I have no doubt about that.”

The King paused as Joffrey seemed to realise the danger he was currently in. He tried not to feel satisfied at the fear he saw there for a brief moment. Then anger coursed through him. She would not punish her husband’s lover. He would not share his fate.

“You were both in charge of keeping her safe!” he yelled. “Do either of you have any idea as to who did this!?”

He felt his heart speed up at that and hoped the King could not see his fear. Alicent had been unworried recently, happy even. She’d been so sure Rhaenyra would no longer be threat. He’d assumed it was her father, that even if the two quarrelled, Otto was good enough to ensure Rhaenyra never laid a finger on the Throne.

It should be her throne, came the traitorous whisper, you swore to win it for her once.

“Your Grace, I have not had tim-” The King’s hoarse yell prevented him from speaking further.

“I don’t want your arse licking! I want to know who tried to kill my unborn grandchildren!? Whose head do I need to put on a spike!? Yours!?” He screamed and the knight recoiled slightly. Cole wanted to laugh, dealing with her temper was no true test for dealing with the King in a rage.

“I do not know. There are too many suspects! I have no proof either way! I need time to gather it!” Joffrey almost babbled. The King was two seconds away from leaping up and braining the little knight, he sensed, he wanted answers not excuses.

None of them said what was obvious to them all. Had the Queen been responsible? She had the most to gain. The moment he had returned from seeing his daughter to the Maester’s Tower he’d had the Queen placed under guard. Not arrested but… under guard. Otto too. Had she done it? Finally tried to kill her hated rival?

Was it his fault?

No. No, she would not have done. She would not strike and risk him. Not without telling him, he had to believe that. He had her ear, he heard her commands and councils. .Who? Who could he offer up instead?

Ah.

“Daemon,” he growled, attracting the attention of his King and Laenor’s man once again. Viserys face twisted in anger and hatred and he did not know whether it was directed at him or the brother he had come to despise.

“The Mushroom business,” he forged onward, aware of how unwise it was to remind his King of what happened after yet being pushed to do so regardless by his own battered honour. “It was a distraction. What if it was a distraction for the placement of the bottle?”

“It would make sense,” said Joffrey, spotting a lifeline. “One last trap to remind us all we are not safe even if he has been forced to retreat for now.”

Should he keep his head, he would find some way to reward the man. He may be a sword-swallower but he had proved he had honour. He had not let a grudge cloud his judgement.

How amusing, whispered the dark part of his mind, that this man would have more honour than you?

He swallowed hard at the thought as his King digested the information. He was still angry, still ready to tear a man apart with his own hands. Finally, he slammed his hands down across the table.

“You,” he said to the Velaryon. “You find me who did this and you find me proof.”

The man got halfway through a bow before Viserys screamed at him to go. He hobbled off at speed, one last look directed his way. It was full of hate.

He told himself he had needed to cripple the man. He had needed to shame Laenor Velaryon into doing his duty. It had worked. She was going to birth Velaryon babes! If he had not, the Velaryon cunt would still be carrying on with the knight, still be shaming the woman he lo- he served once with every breath, with every beat of his heart.

It was spite, murmured that same dark place, you tried to kill a man out of spite. There was no honour in what you did. Had you succeeded it would have been murder. 

“Do you remember the day you entered my service?” asked Viserys and Cole felt fear prickle across the back of his neck. The King seemed almost calm, completely at odds with the rage he had displayed a moment earlier. “You asked me if I would allow you the honour of pledging your sword to my daughter.”

He did not answer. This was a trap. He was to be his King’s scapegoat. The focal point for his anger. Not even the Queen, even if she had been at her most powerful, could save him now. 

He swallowed hard as the King drew Blackfyre. The smoky metal seemed to eat the light. A Kingsguard serves for life and his King would end his soon enough. What would they write of him in the White Book? Would the new Lord Commander, whoever that would be, look upon him as a failed brother? Or would they remove his page and burn it with his cloak?

“Is it still an honour? I saw you rise to defend her from the world. Yet when she needed you the most you abandoned her.” He did not add that he had left her to play lapdog to Alicent. He did not protest he had saved her from her hated Uncle. His fate was sealed the moment the Princess uncorked that bottle. The King drew in breath. “You bring a cunt like Correy to the court itself, you put her and my grandchildren in danger!”

Correy had told the truth but he could not protest that fact now. It had done Alicent little good and the King loved her. Instead, he swallowed his retort and bore the King’s anger. Bore the sight of Blackfyre unsheathed.

“You failed her at every turn. You have failed me at every turn. Had those babes died tonight, I would have had your head. As it is, I am forced by custom to offer you a choice,” the King’s voice was low and dangerous. He screwed his eyes shut but the vision of Blackfyre remained. How had he fallen so far? How had he failed so badly? He could not blame the Queen, he had gone to her. He could not blame her, she had done everything required of her.

That left one person. One person to blame.

He opened his eyes once more. Grief became a storm inside him. He had failed to uphold the oaths he had sworn when he had been elevated to the Kingsguard. Yet redemption was not beyond him yet.

“If Your Grace permits, I wish to take the Black.”


	79. Scrutiny - Chapter 73

I spent the next few hours in a kind of disbelieving daze with only Ser Steffon’s presence to keep me from a complete breakdown. Although he did little to keep me from my grim thoughts, likely too lost in his own. I had stopped crying a while ago. It felt as if I had no more tears left to cry and now all that was left was some vast, gaping hole in my chest and a dull aching pain. At some point a servant arrived with a night gown but I barely remember putting it on.

She’d died because she’d drunk from a bottle intended for me.

She’d died instead of me.

That was all I could think. All my mind would allow me to think. The knowledge danced across my thoughts, wrestled any attempt to think about anything else back to itself again and again and again…

Shame and guilt warred in my gut and I threw up into the chamberpot Mellos had provided. Ser Steffon was at my side immediately, his own eyes tired and red rimmed. He opened his mouth to call for Mellos and then paused when I flinched.

“Call him,” I finally managed to say. “I owe her more than dying from a head wound sustained falling out a bath tub.”

That’d be the stupidest Targaryen death in existence and one of them had drunk wildfire on purpose.

“Grand Maester!” called Ser Steffon. A minute or so later, Mellos shuffled in. When he realised why he had been called in he hastened to my side and began his poking and prodding, occasionally pausing to ask me questions.

“Humph. Likely your birthing sickness rather than your head,” he grumbled. “Stay awake for a while longer. If you manage that it will be safe for you to sleep.”

I nodded at his advice and he shuffled out again with a nod to Ser Steffon.

“I already miss her,” I whispered to my white knight. A spasm of pain twitched over his features. “It does not seem real.”

“She and her sister were the highlight of my day,” he admitted. “Did you know they once dyed Cole’s cloaks pink?”

That startled a laugh from me and then a grimace as my headache objected to any levity. My heart ached; Alys would want me to laugh at her pranks. She had loved the reactions she got whether it was confusion, anger or joy.

“He stole Willis’ spare to cover it up but we all knew,” Steffon finished and his small smile flickered as we both remembered she would not be playing another prank. There would be no more watching her lose at cards, no more watching her wind her sister up, no more witty word play with her. I wanted to cry again but the tears would not come. After a while of waiting, my face pressed into my knees as I tried to make myself weep for her once more, Steffon brought me some water. It was teeth-achingly cold and I drank it gratefully. 

The headache did not ease but I felt somewhat better.

I was about to settle back down in my vigil of misery when the door was practically knocked off it’s hinges. Ser Steffon was between it and I in a second with his sword drawn but he needn’t have bothered because it was Laenor in the doorway. When I saw his panicked face, I let out a low moan as my tears finally came again. Steffon backed off without needing to be told as my husband threw himself forward and engulfed me in a tight hug.

I clutched at him and buried my head in his chest.

“They said there had been an assassination! They said you were injured! That the babes were coming or lost!” he babbled, terror in his voice. “They barred us from the Keep! By order of the King!”

“Ser Velaryon, Lady Velaryon,” Ser Steffon started. “There was an an attempt on her life tonight but it did not take her.”

I pulled my head back in surprise and found Laena hovering in the doorway, her face pale and looking as if she wanted to embrace me as Laenor was doing. A brief glance at Ser Steffon told me why she would not. I reached out my hand and she moved over and took it as Laenor shifted to give her room. I heaved another sob. Did she know? Alys and her had been friends, united in their attempts to beat Maris at her own game.

“How?” asked Laenor, voice cold and angry.

“The pear drink,” I mumbled. “Oh gods, she’s dead! She’s dead, Laena!”

“Who?” asked Laena, pale once more. “Rhaenyra, who is dead?”

“Alys,” I told her and she recoiled as if I had just physically struck out at her. “I said she could have some. It was poisoned. I did not know!”

“Shhh, shhh,” murmured Laenor, pulling me into the crook of his neck. “We know. She was your friend, you did not kill her.”

I only had eyes for Laena as the reality hit her and tears trickled down her face.

“Oh, mother’s mercy,” she whispered and then clenched her fingers tight around my hand.

“It’s my fault. I let her have that drink.” Was all I could say to her grief and Laena shuffled a little closer, as close as she dared with Ser Steffon there. “I killed her. I let her have that drink.”

“You did not know. It was her favourite,” said Laenor. “It was not your fault. You did not kill her.”

“Why did this happen? Why did this have to happen?” The new tears were leaving warm trails over my face and a part of me revelled in them. I should feel bad. I should. I put Alys in that position. Laenor shifted again, trying to give Laena a little more room and keep me against him at the same time. Then he drew a sharp breath.

“Her head is bleeding,” came his alarmed alarmed voice.

“I fell. Like an idiot I fell.” My voice was bitter. The door swung open and Mellos stuck his head inside.

“Oh, you have visitors. Well, Her Grace may sleep now if she likes,” he said with another nod to Steffon. This time it was Laenor’s gentle presence that kept from screaming at him.

“I don’t want to sleep,” I mumbled after he’d gone. “I can’t sleep. How could I sleep?”

“We will stay with you for as long as you want. Mother said she would watch Lucerys until the matter was solved,” Laena told me. Then she glanced at her brother. “Perhaps you could send a runner to inform her?”

I didn’t want him to move and tightened my grip on his arm. He blinked at me in surprise then turned to his sister with a helpless shrug. She sighed and reached over, attempting to get me relinquish my grasp.

“Please,” I whispered and she paused. 

“I can send the runner,” said Ser Steffon, making them both jump. 

“Yes, thank you, Ser Steffon,” Laenor said, repositioning himself on the bed so I was laid against him. I whimpered as my back and legs reminded me of the damage I had to them.

“What hurts? Your head?” asked Laena. She was not crying anymore but I could tell she wanted to. I could tell she was holding back for my sake.

“Back and legs,” I mumbled and buried my face into Laenor’s side as her hands probed my back, causing me to flinch. “Fell out of the bath tub when Marya screamed.”

I laid there for a while, bouts of weeping interspersed with the numbness of disbelief. Laena and Laenor held me through it all, wedging me between them and keeping me safe and warm. Soon the lack of sleep combined with my swollen eyes meant I was struggling to stay awake. Laenor and Laena’s comforting presence only helped in dragging my eyelids further and further down.

When I awoke, Ser Steffon was in the room once more and the morning sun was streaming through the window. My body felt like one giant bruise with everything aching. I was laid on Laenor now with Laena on my other side. She was sniffling and my heart hurt again. I wanted it to be a dream. I wanted Alys to stumble in and be scolded for being late.

I wanted…

“She’s awake,” murmured Laenor. Ser Steffon shifted, standing a little taller. I opened my mouth to ask if he knew… something… anything but all that came out was a raspy groan. Laena rose and retrieved something from out of my sight, returning with a cup full of water. I drained it, spilling a good amount over Laenor’s doublet.

“You want the news?” Laenor asked quietly, lowering his hands to my stomach after I had settled in the bed and he was free of my weight. The children kicked out and I wanted to cry with relief they were okay. Judging from Laenor’s own smile he felt the same way. A moment later, Laena’s hesitant hand joined her brother’s. All three of us laid there for a while.

“Tell me what you have learned.” I owed it to her to find out who did this. When I did, they’d die slowly and screaming.

“Alys was drinking that same liqueur we were. As Sera said, it was her favourite. She’d already had quite a bit by the time you gave her permission to drink it according to Marya,” he began gently. “It was Alannys and not Mellos who enlightened us to the poison used…” 

He trailed off and grimaced.

“If she is right then we were all in more danger than we knew,” he finished. “The babes especially.”

“Explain,” I rasped, some of the guilt easing in me leaving me open to rage. I let it fill me up, let it tint my vision. It was better than grief and self-pity.

“We think the bottle was poisoned before it was ever opened,” said Ser Steffon, voice solemn. “I will understand if Her Grace chooses that I share the fate of Criston Cole.”

I blinked at that and Laenor shook his head.

“We all had some bar you. You do not know how lucky you are that you did not even sip at it,” Laena explained. “Both Joffrey and I awoke with headaches the day after. Sera Strong awoke with what seemed like a terrible hangover but these all match with the side effects of mild consumption of a poison called Hag’s Grasp.”

“Hag’s Grasp?” I echoed. “I do not understand.”

“According to Alannys it is used to… remove unwanted children. It is dangerous though, it can leave a woman infertile with just a small ingestion,” Laena explained. I stared at her, blood cold with fear.

“No… no. Laena, you drank a glass. Maris… by the Seven, Sera drank two!” Horror coursed through me in waves, sending my skin prickling with sweat and nausea squirming in my gut once more.

“It is… it is too early too tell if it has effected us.” There was the wobble. There was the worry. Would Lucerys be her only child? Were three more of my ladies to fall victim? Laenor placed a hand on his sister’s wrist and she grimaced before steeling herself.

“Regardless, it was almost certainly aimed at you. Even a small amount of the poison will kill children in the womb,” Laenor said after his sister nodded for him to go ahead. “Alys drank too much, too fast. It is only fatal in high doses. Had you drank it we would not have detected the damage until much later on. It would have…. It would have looked natural. Like they had… merely not made it. As you were heavily pregnant, it would have almost certainly rendered you… unable conceive.”

There was rage and grief both in his voice. The twins were his children. Any future children I would bear would be his as well. He leant forward and took my hands in his, his violet eyes boring into mine and his mouth set in determination.

“We will find out who did this. Joffrey is working on it now.” His head pressed against mine. “But for now, you must have a visit from Alannys. We must double check the babes are well.”


	80. Scrutiny - Chapter 74

“I do not see how it could have been her!” Joffrey finally burst out from his seat in front of the fire. It startled me from my half doze and brought that familiar pain to my breast once more.

“It must have been,” I replied. I was too tired for anger. I hadn’t been able to force down much breakfast this morning and had barely slept the night before. “No one else benefits.”

“Hundreds may benefit,” he said. “But I confess she would benefit the most of all.”

“She is the only one bold enough. The only one desperate enough.” Joffrey just sighed in response and rose from his chair to come to my side. He had drawn the short straw when it came to watching me today. 

I could not stay in the Keep after Alys’ death and so I did not protest when Laenor ordered my belongings moved to the manse. Oh, my Father had protested. He’d begged me to stay, offered new rooms, new servants and as many of the Kingsguard I wanted but I had turned him down flat. I hoped he understood. I knew he wanted to protect me. This attempt had come so close to reaching me and it had panicked him. He wanted me close and wrapped in as much cotton wool as he could find. 

But I couldn’t stay in the Keep. I just couldn’t.

There was another benefit to the manse as well. It meant I had a reason to retire my ladies for now. It hurt to consider them in danger just by being at my side. So they were currently furloughed and I had no intention of bringing them back into service. A nice payment to their dowries should buy off their Fathers well enough and no doubt they would all be happy to be away from my moods.

And the danger I had put them in.

“And yet I can not get over the fact she knew. She knew alcohol would not be an effective vector. Her factor had to know as well. Hells, even Otto knew,” Joffrey told me, voice gentle.

“Alannys said it would have only required half a glass or so,” I pointed out. “It is not unlikely I might have a glass to calm my nerves after a stressful day. Like the one I had because of that dinner.”

“I take your point. Why that bottle though? You have not been able to stomach pear since the babes were conceived. Might I also point out that Alicent also knows you’ve always favoured Arbor Reds? Why not poison a particularly nice vintage from the Reach? No, it had to be someone who knew enough to know of your love for pear but not enough to know of the details of your pregnancy,” he reasoned. It made sense, a twisted type of sense. Alicent knew much about me and my tastes, that much was inevitable from sheer proximity over the years.

“Do you believe Criston’s theory that it was Daemon?” I asked and Joffrey sighed once more. Cole had raised Daemon as a potential perpetrator and it was currently accepted he had been the most likely candidate with the murder of Mushroom being his cover. He had no reason to lie, he had known his service as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was coming to an end. By all accounts, he had chosen the Black on his own terms.

I tried to ignore the pang of sorrow that brought. I hated it. He had betrayed me for his own selfish reasons and yet he had been by my side for nearly a decade. I missed the Cole that was just as much as I hated the man Cole became. He was my failure.

“No. I do not believe Cole, I do not think I have to explain why,” he told me. I understood.

There was no denying Cole’s theory about Daemon sounded right if viewed superficially. Daemon hated me. He had proved he access to the Keep via the tunnels. The poison used was found most commonly in Dorne and the Stepstones. Yet the holes rapidly became apparent if you had any knowledge of the man Daemon was, poison was not how Daemon operated. He was big, loud, in your face. He’d want the physicality of a violent death, spectacle of a Princess being brazenly murdered in daylight. He was proud too, he’d have already claimed the crime if it was him although… well, no one had seen him since his flight from the Stepstones. Mysaria’s presence was no longer felt in the city, indeed, Joffrey and his friend had cannibalised much of her network for themselves.

One of their more infamous duels… or dates. 

Could Daemon really have contented himself with leaving that bottle there knowing I might never drink it? Could he be content knowing that if I did he would have brought about the deaths of my children in another way than a dagger through their hearts?

“You know we can not kill Otto now,” Joffrey said, finally breaking the silence. Disappointment twisted in my gut, something akin to loss rocked me and I closed my eyes to prevent tears. I should not weep at the idea I could not a kill a man.

“I know,” I said finally. “The timing is too suspicious. I know.”

He nodded, seemingly suspicious at my agreement but I understood his logic. If Otto died now it would look like retaliation. It did not matter how accidental his death looked, it did not matter who killed him, we would be blamed.

“I want who did this,” I told him, numb emptiness giving way to a brief burn of anger. “They killed Alys. They could have killed the twins.”

I cradled my stomach but the babes were silent. I squashed the momentary panic that bought. To think I’d once cursed their frequent activity. Now every time I did not feel them I panicked that my would-be poisoner had succeeded despite Alys’ sacrifice. I did not know how much longer I would have to wait to meet them. Ten weeks had been Alannys’ guess but twins were frequently born early.

That would be the most dangerous part. I had insisted they prepare the incubators in case they were far too early. Laena had offered to play wet nurse should anything go wrong, she had been unable to find any basis in text for her mother’s insistence that I should feed my own babes yet I still fretted. I had decided to do so out of some belief I was missing something, some belief I would condemn them in some way.

“They did not. They will not. Not here,” said Joffrey. He’d gone through everything I had brought with me to the manse with a fine-toothed comb after Alys’ death. My dresses, my books - everything I owned. No more poison, no more danger, had been found.

I cradled my arm around my stomach again and willed them to move, to give me some sign they were alive and well. Gods, I felt fit to burst already. I was almost as large as Laena had been in the final month. Joffrey’s hand hovered a moment over my own and I caught it, bringing it down.

“I will find who tried to kill them and I will make sure no one ever tries again,” he said quietly. “I came so close to failure.”

“It was not your fault,” I told him, then used the headboard to pull myself upright, grimacing as it sent spasms of pain through my back. “I feel so helpless.”

“I know. I am sorry. I will find who did this. I swear to you.”

“Thank you but I was thinking more about my current inability to walk,” I said, smile somewhat sheepish. Joffrey was not given to overt displays of emotions, even during his days as the knight of kisses. I was touched. 

“Gerardys’ orders, I’m afraid. You are to rest and recuperate, else you risk making your legs worse.” I smiled at him and he gave me the best approximation of a smile he could give back before standing to return to his reports. “I must get back to work or else your Father shall have my head.”

“You’ve read them a thousand times. Maybe you could read them to me, perhaps I shall spot something you have not?” I suggested, mostly wanting the company, not wanting to fall back into the numb haze. He shrugged and soon he was stretched out next to me on the bed, reading about the goings on of the court since the attempted assassination and the death of Alys Strong.

Most of it was court scrambling and the upset caused by Viserys’ investigation into the poison. He’d hit a dead end and everyone was feeling his wrath. More than a few servants and underlings had faced… pointed questions yet nothing had been thrown up so far. As for the Green Elephant in the room; Alicent was under arrest without actually being under arrest. Her father much in the same boat. Aemond was ready to be set on the road to Riverrun within the week, his escort of knights being finalised as we spoke.

He couldn’t kill her, not without proof she did it. His own love for her wouldn’t let him but she would remain a prisoner in all but name for a very, very long time. No communication would go unexamined, she would have no time alone as she was always accompanied by at least two Kingsguard and she could forget about having Viserys’ ear any longer. He’d been to her rooms once in the time since Alys Strong had died and had left a few minutes later in a rage.

Oh and Lorent Marbrand was the current favourite to ascend to Lord Commander now that Cole was gone. No hint on who would take Cole’s place though.

Apart from that, there was only the weirdly persistent rumour that the plot on my life was Dornish in origin and that the calls for war was greater now than it had ever been. Joffrey had explained why they believed that, of course. Hag’s Grasp was mainly Dornish, the Dornish were known to use poison, we had actively decided to war against them recently. If I died or my babes did, war would erupt across Westeros and not even Viserys could stop it. It would allow Dorne time to prepare, to neatly step out of Westeros’ focus.

I doubted it. I really did. Yet, as Joffrey had pointed out, it was yet another theory that made more sense than Alicent.

“Your Grace!” called Ser Steffon through the door. “Lady Strong is here to see you!”

“Sera,” I breathed as she was shown in. If she was bothered by Joffrey next to me on the bed she didn’t show it as she came to stand at the foot of it. She did not look well but that was not a surprise. Her face was paler than I’d ever seen it, her hair was pulled into a braid without any of her usual style and her eyes bore the evidence of a long time spent crying. I swallowed down the ache and grief, she had more of a right to it than I did.

“Your Grace, I am here to rejoin your ladies once more.” Her voice broke on ladies.

“Sera, n-” She cut me off with a raised hand.

“Your Grace, I assure you I am fully capable of serving as your lady,” she said.

“My ladies are on furlough,” I told her, my voice gentle. “I have yet to call anyone back to service.”

“You have Lady Laena.” Her tone was desperate and I grimaced.

“That is somewhat different-” She moved around the bed and dropped to her knees, taking my hand. Her eyes brimmed with tears and her breath stuttered.

“You will not call them back but I beg you too. I beg you not to draw back. Alys would not want that,” she muttered. “Please… Rhaenyra, please.”

Her grief prompted fresh tears of my own and I tugged her up. She got my point and rose, dropping down on the bed next to me. She directed her next attempt at Joffrey, looking over my swollen stomach to meet his eyes.

“Tell her it will fine. Tell her to summon us back,” she begged. “We are her ladies. Alys would not want her to set us all loose. She enjoyed her time with you.”

“After the pregnancy,” I said finally. “I’ll call you all back after the babes are born. I will need the help and… it will give you all time to consider whether the danger is worth being by my side.”

Sera was silent for a while, jaw clenched as she thought that over.

“Father would not have me return. He fears for me. He wants me to marry, to produce children.” I swallowed again as I remembered Gerardys was still waiting to see if the Hag’s Grasp had damaged her ability to have children. She smiled sadly as she noted my reaction. “Father has not received many offers so far. Nobody wishes to risk a childless marriage.”

“Should… should it have rendered you barren I would have you back,” I said finally. “Or I shall ensure you make a good marriage. It is your choice.”

It would be hard to tell if it had effected them in truth, the signs of infertility were sometimes not as simple as a lack of monthly bleeding. Certainly, it was a not guarantee that it had effected any of them. They were not pregnant at the time of consumption after all and Gerardys’ research did indicate that was a factor that greatly influenced the outcome. Gods, the thought alone made me shudder. 

Hag’s Grasp. I had questioned Gerardys on the matter and then Alannys for good measure. It was made from the root of a flower that grew mainly in arid places. Used as a last resort version of an abortifacient. Many had taken it and died, or taken it and lost their babes only to discover they would never have another. It was infamous in certain circles for how unpredictable it was in it’s results from person to person.

Symptoms included headaches, thirst, dry mouth, slurring of the words, blurred vision, vomiting, heart problems, drowsiness, infertility, confusion, hallucinations, convulsions and finally death. Mellos had been unable to even tell just how much had been dropped in the drink, useless sot that he was, so we could not even tell dosage - we could not even ballpark the damage.

Maris and Laena were playing it off as if it were no big deal but I could tell it was worrying them. Maris liked to pretend marriage was not on her mind, that it had ceased to be a true possibility the moment her father had disgraced the Grafton name in the way he had. I disbelieved her; marriage was her only realistic way back into the ranks of the nobility, a woman with the ear of a Queen was no small prize to the right people, yet if she could produce no heir then she would be forever barred from it once more.

Laena pointed to Lucerys, pointed to the fact she’d already had a child. She would tell me she had no desire for any men, that she only had eyes for me. Yet she clutched Lucerys close and she was appalling at hiding the tears. I could pinpoint the exact times she wept to Joffrey about the matter. The two would always gather around their son the next morning with Joffrey providing reassuring words.

Did she wish to bear another babe in the future? Joffrey’s babe? He loved Lucerys like his own son but did he want a child of his blood?

“I wish to return now,” Sera said quietly. “Alys wanted to see the twins born. She wanted to teach them our particular brand of mischief.”

I smiled at that but it was with a significant amount of pain. She had mentioned that on that fateful night. She had wanted to meet them and she had been denied that. Something in me gave in and I sighed.

“Very well,” I said and she pulled me into a tight hug. I would not normally allow that but I could not bring myself to scold her for it. I rubbed a comforting circle on her back and she sobbed into my shoulder.


	81. Scrutiny - Chapter 75

“You are hiding yourself away,” said my aunt and I grumbled at the chiding tone, burying my head further into the bedding. “You survived an attempt on your life. You must show the realm you are alive and still pregnant. There are many who say you lost them.”

I scowled at that and then scowled even more fiercely as she wrenched my blanket from me. I glared at her. She should be enjoying herself being courted by her Manderly lordling, not harassing me about whether I retreated from the public eye after a fucking assassination attempt. I shifted so she could see the swell of my stomach where the kids were raising hell inside.

Apparently they liked to pick any time I was lying down to start whatever it was they did in there. Given I had done little but lay down, I had plenty of time to feel them kick away.

“They are well and fine, as you can see,” I told her sourly and her hand came to rest on my belly and a small smile grew over her face as she felt them. “Making my attempts at sleeping hell.” 

“I know that well. Your loyal lords know that well. Yet the court mutters on. Alicent and her father under arrest in all but name, you being here and not the Keep...” She trailed off and shrugged.

“Let them speculate. They will know the truth soon enough.” And it was better than them seeing their Princess practically unable to walk. I was exaggerating, I could walk but it was painful and I was forced to take my steps slowly and carefully. The pregnant woman waddle did not help either. Rhea’s hand left my stomach and smoothed back my hair from my face.

“Jeyne is beyond furious at the attack,” she said finally as I let myself enjoy her messing with my hair. At the mention of my cousin I peered at her curiously.

“I did not doubt she would be,” I finally said. “She has thrown her lot in with the Blacks. If I die now, it will be for nothing.” Rhea snorted at that and left my hair alone to scoop up her cup of wine and take a sip.

“Jeyne is your cousin, she loves you for more than the political power you can bring her,” she said. I swallowed hard before I asked the next question.

“And Helaena?”

“Had to be physically persuaded not to try and mount that dragon of hers and fly to King’s Landing,” replied Rhea and I groaned. Morghul wouldn’t even make it off the ground with her on it.

“I will write to them both, let them know I am well,” I promised.

“Better yet you could see them,” Rhea told me. 

“I intend to return to the Vale during my Grand Procession,” I assured her. “But it won’t be for a while yet. There is still much to plan.”

My aunt smiled and blushed, causing me to frown in confusion.

“Surely my niece does not intend to miss me wedded?” she asked, coyly and a grin split my face before I could stop it.

“You finally said yes!” I laughed. “Of course I shall not miss it! Not for the world!”

“I had a feeling you might say that,” said Rhea with a smile. “Now, do consider rising from that bed at some point. You can not mope forever. Even walking around the manse will do you some good.”

She rose as I chuckled at the almost motherly tone she’d taken. Whenever her or Rhaenys were present, I missed Aemma Arryn fiercely. I wonder what she would have to say about all this?

“Now, I do believe I have another to visit in this manse. Where has that young lady gotten to with Lucerys?” That did make me laugh. Then something eased in me and I pulled myself upright. A task that took considerably more effort than I wanted given my stomach and legs were not keen on cooperating. Rhea took my hands gently and helped me stand.

“Ser Darklyn, your charge needs your arm,” I called and the knight appeared at the door a moment later, bustling over and allowing me to lean on him. 

“Laena is likely with her brother and mother in the garden,” I told my aunt.

We made our way down slowly and I had to stop to sit several times. The burn of pain in my legs had settled into a dull ache and stiffness. Rhea was right, I needed to stop hiding here, needed to actually get out of bed. Sera had returned to my service and she had lost a twin.

The sun was bright even if the day was chilly. Laenor and Laena were gathered around Lucerys and his hatchling, both laughing as they played. Rhaenys was seated on a bench nearby, watching her children with a smile on her face even if she had a distant look in her eye. It was she that spotted our little party first and beckoned us over. 

Lucerys gurgled happily when he saw me and the little hatchling copied his happiness with a screech as I was lowered to the grass by the combined efforts of my Kingsguard and my husband. Rhea joined Rhaenys on the bench and the two were swiftly embroiled in conversation. 

“It is good to see you up and about,” Laena said, resting her hand on mine. “How are you feeling?”

“Aching and tired,” I replied, truthfully. She gave me a pained grimace that I think she intended to be a smile. “How goes the day?”

“Colder than we are used to now winter is here,” said Laenor. “But Lucerys enjoys playing with the hatchling and if we do it inside it destroys the furniture.”

I was happy to see the fond look on his face at the mention of his nephew. Less happy to see the brief vision of pain that danced over Laena’s. Yet she hid it from me, tilted her head away so I could not see.

“I… Laena.” She turned back. I fought for the right words to say and settled on. “I am here if you wish to speak.”

They were close enough to right because she nodded, smile a little watery. Laenor leant forward to place his forehead against my shoulder and snaked his hand around to my midsection. I felt his grin form as they kicked out against his hand.

“Now, here is the little man I came here to see!” crooned Rhea, frightening us all. Given the wicked looks both older women bore I’d bet that was done on purpose. Lucerys screeched happily in response to Rhea leaning down towards him and lifting him into the air. “My how you have grown!”

I shot a look at Laena and found her blushing once more. Rhea was not married to him anymore, she had no way of knowing if Daemon would even know she still spent time with the lad and yet… the Lady of Runestone had gotten genuinely attached. I wriggled my fingers from where she pinned them to the grass and she blinked before her gaze met mine.

We watched in silence as Rhea and Rhaenys took turns in seeing who could dote on Lucerys the hardest, watched them guffaw with glee every time they won giggles and smiles from him. Eventually, it got a bit too cold to keep Lucerys outside, even swaddled as he was and we were forced to retreat back to the manse. Rhaenys took custody of the hatchling and the maids whisked Lucerys away leaving us alone after Rhea bid us good bye.

We ended up in the drawing room and the siblings set to building me a large fire and ensuring I was swaddled in blankets.

“Have you thought on names?” asked Laena, after we’d all settled. Laenor caught my eye at that. We hadn’t talked about names, I doubted any of us had even sat down and thought about it individually. Taking the sudden guilty looks on our faces as her answer she laughed. “You must think on them soon. Father will have his own ideas and he will be insistent.”

A good point. In canon, he had named Jacaerys and Lucerys. No doubt he would have ideas of what would constitute a good name now as well. 

“A Targaryen name will be necessary for the firstborn,” I said finally. “But I want it to reflect Laenor’s Targaryen heritage as well. Perhaps Aemon, for a boy? Laenor’s grandfather and my… my brother.”

“Mother would love that!” said Laenor. “But what if they are both boys? Baelon?”

Baelon had been the name of my younger brother. He’d lived for all of a day. They hadn’t even let me see him before they’d taken the body to be burned on the pyre. I shook my head mutely at that, shocked by how much the memory had upset me. Aemon was a distant tale but Baelon was too caught up in the loss of Aemma Arryn.

“Jaehaerys?” asked Laena, interrupting Laenor’s ‘deer in the headlights’ look.

“Ugh, no.” Was my answer to that and I received two sets of raised eyebrows. Then I felt the need to defend my position. “He once walked in on grandfather reading a letter to me and told him that he should stop ‘encouraging me’.”

They sighed at that, likely remembering why their own mother had been passed over despite being the legal heir by Andal succession at the time.

“Joffrey?” asked Laenor with a grin and Laena groaned and I smiled.

“Mother would kill you,” she said. A part of me wanted to. Joffrey was the reason I hadn’t fallen flat on my face by now, he was the reason Laena was still a Black, the reason Corlys was mine in truth. Yet others would not see it that way. 

“As much as I want to, I have to agree with Laena,” I said and Laenor shrugged. Unlike in canon, he still had Joffrey this time around. There was no pressing need to honour a dead lover.

“Viserys?” suggested Laena and caught my look before dissolving into giggles. “Well, Aegon, Aenys and Maegor are right out.”

She was right. I thought ahead, to Kings that would come after in the canon timeline. Who stood out? Not many not called Aegon, Daeron or Viserys. Damn it. Aerys I and II had ruined the name thoroughly, Rhaegal had been mad… Maekar? No, too close to Maegor and too close to said King’s reign.

“Baelor?” I asked finally. Close to enough to Baelon to honour both my brother and grandfather, close enough to remind people he came from both lines of Jaehaerys’ sons. Laenor wrinkled his nose, likely remembering Baelor the Blessed in my tale. I had been thinking of Baelor Breakspear though. Was that a bad omen, to name him after the perfect prince felled by his own brother?

“Baelor,” Laenor finally agreed. Laena clapped her hands together with delight and I dropped my hand to my stomach. Did I carry a little Aemon and Baelor in me? Then a broad smile split my face as excitement coursed through me. It felt more real, they felt more real with names.

“What if they are girls?” asked Laenor.

“Alyssa. Alys for short,” I said, almost before Laenor had finished his question. They nodded solemnly at that. I could not name her Alys in truth but I wanted to honour the woman who had died so that they could live. Alyssa honoured quite a lot of avenues; there had been more than a few Alyssa Arryns and Alyssa Velaryons and my own grandmother was named Alyssa. “Yet I confess little clue as to a second girls name.”

Part of me wanted to suggest Daenerys to honour the girl who would become the Mother of Dragons in a world that would not be. Another wanted to say Rhaenys to honour the Queen Who Never Was but I’d noticed a trend with Rhaenys’ across the books and they never seemed to die of natural causes. Visenya was the mother of Maegor, still to divisive and I had no desire to tempt fate. Alysanne was tempting, Alysanne and Alyssa.

“What about a Velaryon name for a second girl?” asked Laenor. “Valaena Velaryon was the name of the mother of Aegon and his sisters?”

“Alyssa is a Velaryon name as well,” Laena pointed out dryly and Laenor shrugged. “We have two Cousin Alyssa’s right now!”

He blushed. Honestly, I couldn’t keep track of the extended Velaryon family either. It was endless source of fascination as to how Laena could.

“Do we have a Cousin Lianna?” asked Laenor tartly and Laena shook her head. “What about Lianna?”

“It’s a nice name,” I said after thinking for a while. “Do you want to name our daughter Lianna?”

“Lianna and Alyssa,” said Laenor, rolling the names about his mouth as if trying them out. “Or Valaena and Alyssa for the two Velaryon women important to the dynasty?”

Now that he mentioned it that did have a nice symmetry to it.

“I prefer the second,” I told him. “But I will leave the choice to you.”

He beamed at me before stopping to think on it some more, trying out the different names in different tones.

“Valaena and Alyssa,” he said finally. “And should they be boy and girl, Aemon and Alyssa.”


	82. Scrutiny - Chapter 76

Lorent Marbrand’s promotion to Lord Commander was celebrated quietly by most. The court was still tense, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Otto and Alicent had yet to be seen. I knew, of course, that they were both under guard in their quarters but the incautious went so far to suggest they had been sent to the Black Cells or the Confessor’s tender mercies.

My Father was silent on the matter. He’d set Joffrey to investigating as well as Jaremy and Ser Harwin. I doubted either would come up with something Joffrey had failed to see, which meant he was angry and he couldn’t do anything about it. Frustrated with no one to direct that frustration at. My return to court had done much to ease some of that away but he was still waiting for someone to let loose at.

“Congratulations, Lord Commander.” Lorent Marbrand bowed in response.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I am deeply honoured. I hope to restore the honour of the Kingsguard in your eyes,” he replied and I could see he was serious. Blond haired and brown eyed he was about Cole’s age. He’d joined before Cole had though, taking the place of Clement Crabb. The first Kingsguard my own Father had appointed as Ser Crabb’s death had occurred not even a month after Jaehaerys’.

I hoped that meant he was a Viserys loyalist. I hoped that meant he would rally to my banner and not Aegon’s.

“I assure you I do not consider the actions of one man a stain on the honour of the whole,” I told him and he smiled.

“I thank you for your open-mindedness in this,” he said. “Do you wish to keep Ser Darklyn?”

I glanced at said knight, who kept his gaze riveted to the wall. Rumour had it Ser Steffon had been in the running for Lord Commander also. He was older than Marbrand by half a decade and had been one of Jaehaerys’ last picks for his white cloaks. I would not be sad Steffon had lost out, being Lord Commander would take him from my side and interrupt the work I was putting in to secure his loyalty to me and not my Father… as bad as that sounded even in my head.

“I have found him to be a great balm to my troubled mind since… since Alys died,” I told him, choking slightly. His eyes softened at my grief and he nodded, bobbing his head once.

“Then I shall leave him at Your Grace’s disposal as long as His Grace agrees,” he replied and bustled off, nodding to Ser Steffon. Steffon nodded back, stiffly. I strangled the urge to ask him if he regretted he had not earned the spot of Lord Commander and instead decided to hobble over to where Father was having serious words with several Stormlords I vaguely recognised as Marchers.

“-vesty! That they would be so bold. We must strike, Your Grace. They have less food in the winter, a few well placed raids would leave them a ripe target for our armies,” said one. 

“We do not yet know the cul-” Father’s eyes flickered to me then and he smiled. The men turned and promptly gave their greetings as I hobbled to their King’s side and earned myself a tight hug. “As I was saying, we do not yet know the culprit behind this attack on my daughter. It may well be the Dornish but I want to know who, for sure, is responsible.”

“Who else but the Dornish could have done so!?” burst out one man, garnering angry looks from his compatriots. The only other suspects where the King’s brother and the King’s wife. Reminding him of such did not seem prudent. Indeed, Father’s face darkened in response.

“The life of a royal is never safe,” I interjected. “There are many potential culprits. We must be sure we deliver justice and not vengeance.”

I’m lying of course. Revenge is very high on my list of things to do when I figure out who tried to kill my children and did manage to kill one of my ladies in the process.

And… and has likely rendered her twin infertile. Laena and Maris had bled, normally, thank the Seven. It was a good sign. I had let myself hope that Sera would escape it too yet she had confessed to Gerardys that she had been due to bleed and it had not come. Then it had and it had confined her to bed for three days. I did not need Gerardys’ grim looks to confirm what I had deduced.

It was very unlikely Sera Strong would bear a living child.

“Well said, Rhaenyra,” came Viserys’ voice, warm with pride, knocking me clean from my musing. His hand came to rest on my shoulder as the Marcher lords nodded in agreement, likely internally praising the fact they’d been saved from their King’s wrath. After they’d beaten a hasty retreat he drew me to the side and studied me intently.

“You do not look well,” he said finally and I strangled a laugh at that. Of course I did not look well. I was heavily pregnant, tired out of my own skull and I’d had to endure two rounds of Gerardys’ gross post-vomit flask today already.

“I never look well these days yet I must come to court. I can not lie about all day,” I told him, making light of it. His lips quirked up in response and he took my arm. We set off down the gallery, ignoring the curious bystanders.

“Lorent Marbrand seems diligent,” I started and he nodded.

“He has sworn to uphold my choice of heir,” he said and I smiled. So had Cole once upon a time. Only time would tell if he were serious about such an oath. “But you did not come here solely to talk about Lorent, I imagine?”

Ah, he did have me there.

“I wanted your permission to speak to Alicent,” I said as we reached the open air and a tad more privacy. He crashed to a halt and turned a surprised gaze to my face.

“Alicent?” he asked, as if he’d misheard me. 

“Yes, your wife. The Queen. Alicent Hightower, mother of my siblings.” His lips pursed at my tone and I gave him a strained smile. 

I needed to know. I needed to look her in the eyes and I needed to see her reaction for myself.

“I will not brook revenge Rhaenyra,” said Viserys, voice sour. “If it is a screaming match you desire I shall not allow it.”

“I will not indulge in a screaming match. I just wish to speak to her,” I protested. My father did not look convinced. “Please.”

“Ser Darklyn, you are to escort her out of the room the moment either of them raise their voices,” Viserys ordered, eyes meeting my guardian’s over the top of my head. I sighed in relief and stood on my tiptoes to drop a kiss to his cheek. He caught my shoulders and met my eyes before I could leave. “I mean it. You will keep the peace. We will pursue justice together.”

“I just wish to know the truth,” I told him quietly and he nodded, jerking his head in dismissal.

“And where will the Queen be at this time?” I asked Ser Steffon as we left him to his meandering about the balcony.

“Likely with the Prince in the nursery,” he replied, voice even and calm.

She was indeed, watching him toddle unsteadily from toy to toy with a look of utter delight on her face. I paused in the doorway, fighting the urge to be sick. Had she really tried to kill my babes? Had she killed Alys and rendered Sera infertile in the process? My gut says it was her and yet nothing about the assassination makes sense if she was the culprit. 

Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk stood as her guard and when they both reacted to my presence, she glanced up. Then her face went pale as she met my gaze. A quick conference between the three knights saw me admitted to take another of the plushly upholstered chairs. At my presence, Daeron paused in his playing.

“Ma?” was his curious enquiry, his violet eyes turning towards his mother in confusion. I felt a flicker of guilt, quickly squashed. I had not visited Daeron during my time in King’s Landing and I only ever saw him on special occasions. I should change that, he should know me as well as his siblings do.

“I am Rhaenyra, your sister,” I told him and he was quick to scuttle into his mother’s skirts. She gave me a rueful smile and sat him upon her knee where he curled closer to her and watched me with wide eyes.

“It takes him a while with those he does not know well,” she said. “He does this with my father as well.”

Her green eyes met mine and I sensed she was desperate I not take offence to that. Any negative report from me now could have dire consequences, especially if Viserys decided he did not need proof it was her that had laced that bottle with Hag’s Grasp.

“It is no issue. Children will be children.” It was a platitude but I hadn’t come here to discuss Daeron and she knew it. Our eyes met again and she took a deep breath.

“I did not do it, Rhaenyra. Please believe me about this. I did not order that bottle placed in the cabinet. Please believe me,” she almost whispered and there was a desperate look in her eyes. When my face remained impassive, she changed tact. “Surely you must credit me more intelligence than such an easily botched attempt.”

I… well, the fact that it was so badly botched is the only thing stopping me from outright accusing her in open court. I just could not understand how she could so badly mess it up. Damn her, I could not tell if she was lying or not. If she was telling the truth, I did not doubt she had some other scheme in the making.

“I am sorry for what happened to Alys Strong. Truly, I am. Should there be anything you need my help with - be it investigation or-” She paused and her eyes flickered to the Kingsguard not so subtly listening. “Or petitioning the king to see justice done, I will aid you.”

Subtle, Alicent, very subtle. No doubt that’ll get relayed to my father within the hour. A more suspicious part of me was happy to point out that was probably her plan. Then she could point to Viserys’ increased vigilance as a reason she could not help. She was always good at leaving herself a way out, wasn’t she?

I was silent for a while, churning the meeting over in my mind. She was desperate to convince me she hadn’t been behind the plot that had killed Alys Strong, the plot that had been aimed squarely at my babes and only at my babes.

Yet she was the one my gut says was behind this.

“You were behind Correy. You would have my children labelled bastards,” I said bitterly. “That was the logical conclusion of that plan. What is to say you would not stoop to killing them.”

“Correy I will admit to. Cole brought him to me, he told me he was Laenor’s ex-lover. That you had gotten rid of him. Correy swore he would make the accusations if I provided him with payment afterwards. He asked for land,” she said, keeping her voice level. “But you, Viserys and I both know Correy told the truth. There is a difference between exposing the truth and murder.”

I could feel Ser Steffon’s gaze boring into the back of my head. No doubt he was waiting for the explosion that would have prompted had my father not made himself excruciatingly clear on what would happen should I explode. I set my thoughts in order and drew in a deep breath. I had more to get out of her yet.

“If you are truly not involved, what of that dinner? You expect me to believe that was not all crafted to stress me?” Her eyes flickered from my face to the floor.

“It was petty; petty and wrong. I wanted to make you sick, I had heard from the kitchens as to what would make the sickness worse. It was done to make you uncomfortable and maybe see you put on bed rest once more.” Daeron struggled in her grasp as she pulled him tight against her. Then her eyes rose and she met my gaze with a defiance that only years of knowing her told me was false.

“Joffrey and Laenor. I had information that your goodbrother meets him sometimes after he is finished in the practise yard. I was in the process of selecting a few amenable men and women to catch them in the act.” My fingers ached as I clenched them hard. Then I forced myself to release them. Her information was faulty. Joffrey rarely met Laenor in public, alone, without a very good reason. It was also rare to find him anywhere near the practise yard. The memories were still painful for him. “Viserys could not hide what they are doing if there were that many witnesses.”

I remained silent processing that. She had been plotting against me in truth as well as lowering herself to such petty actions like that dinner. 

“When Aegon is King I will see that you are well-treated,” she almost babbled when I did not break the silence, prompting Ser Erryk to shift in surprise. “You could not remain in Westeros but I would arrange for an allowance to be paid through the Iron Bank to you wherever you decide to settle. Laenor and Joffrey Velaryon would have to be sent to the wall but I would imagine that a relief by now. You are an excellent mummer when it comes to him, Rhaenyra, but it must be grating. I’ll even let the whore keep her bastard spawn as long as she names it as su-”

“Enough,” I said, being sure to keep my voice level. “I have heard enough.”

“Your Grace, the King was very clear-”

“And I have remained polite,” I said and Ser Steffon nodded, falling silent. “Aegon will not take the Throne. You know why. As for my husband, I love him. My babes are his and you know that. You will not do anything to hurt him or my goodbrother. And as for Lucerys… I highly encourage you to mention this plan to Father, see how he feels about it.”

Her jaw clenched tight and her eyes flashed dangerously but she said nothing. I didn’t bother saying goodbye as I turned and left and she did not call out to stop me.


	83. Scrutiny - Chapter 77

I did not wish to attend a feast, not with all the question still swirling about as to just who had tried to kill me. None of the obvious candidates made sense. I believed that Alicent’s plan had been to expose Laenor and Joffrey, I believe that poison would never be a vector of death that Daemon would ever stoop to and I can’t believe Dorne would strike against the faction calling for peace with them before they struck at the man behind the scenes so to speak.

“Her Grace, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen!” called the steward. “Accompanied by Ser Laenor Velaryon!”

We were shown to my Father’s side and he immediately turned to me and smiled, dropping his hand to my very, very large stomach. I clenched my jaw and bore it. It was not a habit he seemed keen on letting go any time soon.

Thankfully, the twins did not do their best to batter my insides in response and I fancied he looked just a tad disappointed at the fact. Just past his shoulder, Alicent peered at me. She was pale and drawn, the makeup she wore doing little to hide the strain of the three weeks since Alys Strong had died. I gave her a nod in greeting that she returned, not hiding her surprise. 

I had made my decision though. I would have peace with her for now. I would focus on finding my potential poisoner and if she played nicely, I might even let her have a turn on the rack with him. Then I would deal with her petty, twisted, delusional self.

Viserys smiled but it was strained. I still think he suspects her. After our little talk, I had gone to Father and laid out what she had intended with the dinner and with her ‘discovery’ of Joffrey and Laenor. He had sulked about my husband once more but that sulkiness had been quickly driven away by his anger that she was unable to leave the whole matter alone.

It helped that the three Knights had backed up everything I had said.

He only had Daeron left to hold over her head now and he had sworn that he would allow me to decide if and who Daeron would go to. Then he had told me he would give Alicent this information and make sure the point was finally rammed home. I was not convinced it would prevent her pettiness, Alicent was a mistress of it after all, but I did think the threat of losing her final child would stop any larger schemes.

Regardless though, it was an advantage I could hold over head. A stick to the carrot of finding out who had set her up as the obvious candidate to a poisoning. It was only how badly they had fouled it up that had saved her from the consequences. After all, had she not been ‘acquitted’ in Joffrey’s eyes and mine, I would be pushing Father for punishment right now. Had I succeeded she would have lost her head, not even Father’s love for his second wife would have protected her. 

Gods, the Dance would be back on in truth then. In a twisted kind of way, I was thankful it was not Alicent. Aegon and Aemond would blame me, I was certain of that. The initial blame would only be reinforced by the lords that had been in her confidences, all of which would have known she was not responsible. They would paint it as a lie on my part, capitalising on my own friend’s death to murder their mother.

To them I would be a heartless bitch who’d proved herself intent on killing them.

Helaena would be grief-stricken. She loved her mother and she loved me and the knowledge that one had died because of the other would kill her inside. It hurt to think she might have looked at me with hatred or seen me as a constant reminder of the loss of her mother. A prisoner in all but name and Aemond being shuffled off early was the only blow back so far. Aegon and Helaena had not seen it but Aemond had to know.

His goodbye had reminded me he was still a boy for all that he was angry and quick to violence. He had broken down into tears. He had begged his father not to make him leave. He had begged his mother not to send him away. He had even begged me to help him. He had wrapped his arms around Ser Thorne’s leg and it had taken Ser Steffon and Father working in tandem to remove him without hurting him.

I felt like a monster.

Putting aside my feelings of crippling guilt over Aemond, ruling out Alicent had left us with a dearth of suspects. It would be nice if I had the first clue as to where else we could look but I did not. Joffrey had even gone as far as to look into my more far-fetched fanon based suspects like the Maesters or Braavos and their Faceless Men. Certainly nothing on those fronts so far. We were stuck combing through every rumour and report for the one little hint, the one tiny overlooked clue, that could give us a breakthrough or something to aim at.

“How goes the day, Ser Velaryon?” asked Viserys with false cheer, as if trying to distract himself from his thoughts. Laenor smiled warmly in response.

“Well enough, Your Grace. We have both been looking forward to Rhaenyra’s nameday feast for quite some time!” he enthused and also lied through his teeth. Both of us had been dreading it. The poisoner was still out there for all Father had ramped up security to a truly frightening level. Honestly, I half-suspected he’d be setting up checkpoints next, searching the poor staff for suspicious objects.

We made tense small talk for a while longer as the guest began to arrive. Then we were forced to sit through the endless line of lords who were eager to give their gifts -to be searched twice for anything suspicious and definitely no consumable goods-, congratulate me on reaching nine and ten years before gratefully shuffling away from the suspicious glances they were all receiving. Even Alicent appeared to be studying the guests with an intensity I rarely saw from her.

In a small window of peace, Laenor leant over to me.

“I was unaware Alicent would be here,” he murmured. I smiled as if he had just told me an amusing joke and leant over to whisper back.

“So was I but I believe she desires peace between us for now. She wants to know who left her to take the fall for this poisoning. She may even hold our cloaks as we put them to the rack,” I told him and he nodded, eyes going serious.

“Joffrey has never believed it to be her. Did she so convince you with her words? You have not told me what she said.” I thought about that. Before I had her confession from her Joffrey and I had disagreed on Alicent. He believed that she and her factor had been planning something far less… destructive than a brazen poisoning in the centre of the Keep. Yet I had argued her to be desperate, backed into a corner and willing to do anything as she was confronted with the prospect of becoming nothing more than her father’s puppet and less than that should Aegon take the Throne in a regency.

He had been right, annoyingly.

“She had a different nasty plan in mind. Not nearly as fatal either, although had she pulled it off Joffrey and yourself would be a little chilly for a while.” He nodded along, looking unsure. “As weird as it sounds, I do believe her.”

“And Otto?” he whispered.

“She said nothing on that front. In fact, she did not mention him at all. At this point I would count them as two separate entities. Our only question is which way Joffrey’s friend has gone.”

“I dislike this,” he groaned, a little too loudly and attracted Viserys’ attention. He flushed at the raised eyebrow like a child caught doing something wrong.

“Is the food not to your liking, Ser Velaryon?” he asked in an icy voice.

“I apologise, Your Grace,” he said. Those violet eyes remained on him for a little longer and then he turned away and began shovelling food into his mouth at a rate that made me feel quite nauseous. Or maybe that was the babes, who knew these days.

I was so ready to give birth and have my little Aemon and Baelor or Valaena and Alyssa out of me already.

I never thought I’d say that, let me tell you.

“Something tells me your father still dislikes me,” Laenor mumbled, looking like a chastised boy. I grimaced at the plate.

“He believes I am forcing myself to be with you for the good of House Targaryen. He will realise in time. Probably right around the time the twins are born,” I mumbled back. Almost as if they had sensed their mention, the twins began kicking and I winced. “Calm your children before they bruise me.”

He placed his hands on my stomach and grinned like a complete dork when he felt them moving and kicking, even through the relatively thick velvet I was wearing. Then he frowned.

“Is this a new dress?” he asked. “It’s different from your old ones.”

I glanced down and the black and red velvet, surprised he’d even noticed my change in style. 

“Somewhat new. The old ones were not exactly accommodating to my pregnancy,” And this style hid my figure much better. I wasn’t going to try and show off what I did not have anymore, only grief lay down that road. Bemused, he took his hands off my stomach and began eating again, occasionally shooting me thoughtful glances.

“Surely my change in dresses does not disturb you so,” I teased.

“It seems so odd now that I think about it. You always wore a particular style.” There was a blush on his face and I stamped down on the urge tease him further. It seemed some of my passion about how someone should dress had gotten through, then.

“Do not worry yourself about it. I promise I bought my new wardrobe with my own money.” He gave me a thin smile in response but our conversation had drawn the gaze of my Father once more.

“I note Lady Rhaenys and Lord Corlys are not present tonight,” he said and managed to make it sound like an accusation, as if it were some sort of personal insult.

“They are seeing to an issue with the rebuilding of Spicetown, Your Grace,” he told him. “They sent their apologies to Rhaenyra directly.”

Rhaenys had wanted to stay here so that Meleys was in easy view of Alicent. My dear goodmother did not believe her to be as innocent as I did and was just waiting for an excuse to have Meleys make a meal of her… or burn the High Tower with it’s occupants still in it as a message to anyone who would strike at her family. To be fair to Corlys as well, he had also wished to stay. He wanted blood just as much as Rhaenys did yet he also wanted Spicetown rebuilt and this conflict was delaying everything. Since Vaemond had proved completely unable to deal with it, he’d been forced to ask his wife to take him home for a few days.

“How goes the rebuilding?” asked Alicent.

“Father says it goes well. I have yet to visit,” Laenor replied. There was a pang of sadness in his voice and I slipped my hand into his. 

“Once the babes are born it’s only fair they should see Dragonstone and Driftmark.” Which naturally had Viserys scowling at the thought I was going walkabout's once more. Well, he’d have to get used to it. Once the babes were old enough I was having my damn procession. I’d waited long enough!

As he struggled with some sort of objection to that, I focused on Laenor’s smile at the thought. Spicetown and High Tide held a special place in his heart. One of my children, the potential Baelor inside me now, would inherit it one day. He wanted to leave them a shining beacon of prosperity, not the sad and damp island his own Father had once inherited.

I wanted the same, in fairness. I wanted to leave my children a Westeros that was better than when I was given it. A better King’s Landing, a stronger monarchy, a kinder peoples - actual dragons instead of twisted and deformed monsters.

Perhaps it was time to start thinking just exactly how I was supposed to do that. To finally make a plan for the future. A road map of what reforms I intended to bring in. Once Corlys and Rhaenys returned I would gather my little small council and we would decide together.


	84. Scrutiny - Chapter 78

“Oooooooh,” I moaned as Laenor’s hands pressed into just the right spot. “Yes, keep going.”

He chuckled and did as he was told, earning a happy sigh from me. Joffrey and Laena were together today doing only the gods knows what in their shared office. I had decided I’d done enough hobbling around lately and stayed in bed, only to be joined by Laenor after his training. After one to many complaints about my feet aching, I’d managed to finagle a foot rub out of him and boy was it worth the whining.

I let my eyes flicker closed as I groaned in happiness again. He snickered in response but I did not care, not as long as he kept this up. The muscles in my stomach fluttered, cramping briefly, as I relaxed.

“What exactly is Laena doing anyway? She came by and stole some of my notes, you know,” he said after a while as his hands moved up to my swollen ankles.

“She’s working on producing a compre- yes, just there- a comprehensive guide on dragons.” He made a small noise of disbelief at that.

“The notes she stole were not on dragons,” Laenor told me. I opened my eyes and stared at the canopy of my bed before sighing.

“What were they on?” I asked. Surely she hadn’t gotten side tracked already?

“Remember those books you borrowed from Mellos?” I nodded. “Well, she wanted my notes on those.”

“She’s read them herself surely,” I said, frowning. He nodded. “What is she doing with notes about Yi-ti. Did they mention dragons at all?”

“No. Well a little, it was mostly about culture, really. A bit of history, some legends… there was a really interesting one on festivals. Father got to witness-” His fanboying was cut off by a disturbance in the hall.

“I must insist you do not-” Came Ser Steffon’s voice.

“His Grace has summoned the Princess to the Red Keep. She does not have a choice!” barked Lorent Marbrand. It took quite a bit of effort to push myself up onto my elbows and peer over my stomach. Laenor and I shared a puzzled glance before someone, probably Marbrand, pounded on the door.

I let me head fall back onto the pillow as my stomach cramped again. Honestly, if I never had another cramp as long as I lived it would be too soon.

“Your Grace!” Laenor clambered to his feet and unlatched the door, pulling it open as Lorent’s fist came up to knock again. The Lord Commander paused at the scene before him, as if he had not been expecting it. Me sprawled on the bed and Laenor half dressed in training gear.

“On behalf of His Grace, King Viserys, I am to escort you to the Red Keep immediately,” he said, recovering a moment later.

“In my nightgown?” I asked, pulling myself into a sitting position. Lorent flushed.

“I will allow time for you both to dress and bathe,” he finally said. Laenor reached over and pulled the bell pull as worry wormed it’s way into my gut.

Being marched to the Red Keep under guard implied I had done something wrong recently. A maid appeared in the doorway and was ordered to prepare two baths and to rouse Lady Sera to help me dress and bathe. Then Laenor, ignoring Lorent’s judging eyes, helped me to stand.

“Any clue what this is about?” he mumbled, as he made a show of keeping me steady.

“Not at all,” I replied. He grimaced.

What could Viserys know that would have him this angry? Gwayne’s accident? That had been months ago, Joffrey had long since cleaned up evidence of that plot. It couldn’t be about the poisoning because he was angry at me, not whoever had carried it out.

Sera appeared soon after, provoking the usual surge of guilt when I saw the pain spasm over her face at my swollen belly. Ser Steffon remained with me and Ser Lorent left to keep an eye on Laenor as he prepared himself.

“What is happening?” asked Sera, when he’d disappeared. “Is it regarding Alys?”

When a glance to Ser Steffon elicited a genuine shrug, I rubbed at my temples with a sigh and shook my head.

“I do not know. I doubt it is about Alys though. The King is angry. With me, specifically.”

“He has sent guards enough for Ser Joffrey and Lady Laena too,” Ser Steffon said after a moments hesitation and my stomach plummeted down to somewhere by my knees. That Viserys had figured out enough to know Joffrey was more important than I let on was a given - to drag him along with Laena to the Keep…

Gods, had he figured out our arrangement? Was this to be a public humiliation? What could he do to me in that situation? Strip me of my title for sure. It was not against the law, per say, to have a lover of the same sex but that would not save me. Not from Viserys or the court. 

I did not stay in the bath for long, worry and the occasional cramp or jolt of pain making the whole process less fun than usual. Still, it was enough to be clean. Sera helped me dry and then dress myself before pulling my hair into my usual braid.

Somehow, despite my haste, I managed to look halfway presentable as I met with Laenor, Laena and Joffrey under Lorent’s steady gaze. Then all four of us were escorted into litters and the journey to the Red Keep began. I found myself tapping out a nervous beat on the lacquered wood as we travelled. If he stripped me of my title, exposed my affair with Laena and Joffrey’s with Laenor, Rhaenys would go nuclear and he had no counter bar holding us hostage.

No, I was certain now this wasn’t about who slept in my bed. Not that Laena and I had slept together but you get the point. He wouldn’t risk publicity for it.

What had roused my Father’s anger then?

What if’s of varying degrees of possibility taunted me until we reached the Keep itself, then all thought was banished by a freezing dread that made my movements clumsy with fear. What had I done? Was this Joffrey’s fault? I wanted to scream and demand someone tell me what I was in trouble for - what I was to be accused of. Yet my escort was silence as we were led not to the Throne Room but the Small Council chamber.

The Small Council, or a small part of it, were arrayed before us. Otto, Corlys and Jaremy were all missing. Alicent was present, pale and grieving. I felt my stomach plummet again. Which one had been hurt? Aegon? Helaena? Surely not Aemond but would he would still be on the road to Riverrun? I was not sure, excessive travel by dragon had spoiled me on travel times.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself as Laena, Joffrey and Laenor lined up next to me and we were stood before them all like naughty children receiving judgement for what we had done. I allowed myself to examine Viserys in the following silence. He was pale and furious, looking to be struggling with his words.

Lyonel stood next to him, his eyes impossible to decipher. Just looking at the Hand made my heart ache so I allowed my gaze to travel on. Lyman was trembling in his seat, looking at me like I’d gravely disappointed him. Jasper looked afraid. That was my first thought when our eyes met. Angry and afraid. Mellos was doing his best to keep out of my notice, to not catch my eye. Afraid also.

What. The. Fuck?

“Father, you req-”

“Silence!” My greeting was immediately halted as I flinched at the volume of his bellow. I swallowed again, fear turning my blood to ice now. I hadn’t seen him this angry since my return from the Vale. An ache began in my fingers, my stomach clenched unpleasantly and my breath came a little short as the memories of that particular meeting rushed back.

“I trust you have heard the news?” he said, finally. His voice was shaking with the effort of not screaming at us.

News? At my baffled look, he raised a single silver eyebrow.

“Do not play games with me, Rhaenyra. The assassin referenced the Greens in his attack!” he barked. Confusion and fear made my breath come quickly. What fucking assassin!? We’d called Otto’s death off and yet… And yet he wasn’t here was he. I’d assumed he was still under guard but if Alicent was here and grieving like that it was because someone close to her had died. Not her children… her father…

Oh fuck.

“I… I truly do no-” Viserys cut me off again.

“Last night,” he began slowly. “Otto Hightower was permitted a walk in the gardens. Several men, disguised as servants, ambushed him.”

At the acknowledgement I’d been right in my guess, I swallowed hard again. Otto dead and I was the only real suspect. Just like Alicent had been the only suspect for my attempted poisoning. Was someone trying to set us against one another? 

And these fucking cramps! Could I get a break for five fucking minutes!? I needed to think and they would not let me!

“They slew his guards and then turned their blades on him. They specifically referenced his association with the Green faction. They claimed to follow their Queen,” Viserys continued, heedless of my no doubt wide-eyed stare of fear. “None of them were caught at the scene.”

The silence that followed was deep and terrible. I wanted to crane my head round, to look to Joffrey and just what the hell he was playing at. Some indication of whether this was some sort of sick joke. Had he gone ahead regardless?

“Well!?” Viserys demanded.

“I did not do this!” Was my somewhat heated response. He glared at me.

“Do you expect me to believe this is not revenge!? I swore I would find who was responsible for the poisoning! Yet you decide to ignore all of the evidence pointing elsewhere at strike at Otto!?” he bellowed.

“I did not think it was Otto! I believed Alicent when she said it wasn’t her!” I cast a desperate look at the Queen. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she was staring at me in a way that took me by surprise. There was no hatred there, just weird mix of emotions. Grief, shock, anger and more.

“I will ask once,” Viserys intoned, drawing my attention back to him. “Are you behind Otto’s murder?”

“I am not,” I said firmly. “I had no reason to kill him. Every reason to want him alive. At least acknowledge if it was me I would not have my assassins announce who hired them to all and sundry.”

Perhaps that was not the best defence I could have mustered. It did, after all, imply I had assassins.

“You will all remain in the Keep. You will be given separate rooms. You will submit to my guard. I will examine your communications. Rhaenyra, you will summon Lord and Lady Velaryon back to court where they will agree to similar restrictions.” I gaped at him. There was no way Rhaenys or Corlys would agree!

“Father-”

“No.” My mouth snapped shut. “I will not have this court turn into a bloodbath. I will not have you start a war in King’s Landing!”

“Husband,” Alicent said in a soft voice. “If you would still hear my council, I believe her.”

There was a surprised silence after that where both Mellos and Jasper turned to gaze at her in surprise. Even Lyonel looked momentarily startled. We normally only agreed when it came to Daemon and even then it was tenuous alliance at best. Viserys placed a hand over hers and nodded.

“Be that as it may, you will still-” The door was thrown open and several Gold Cloaks marched in, Harwin Strong at their head. His handsome face bore a fierce grin, one of triumph, despite the grim tidings he likely bought.

“Your Grace,” he said and dropped to one knee. “Father.”

“Rise, Ser Strong. Have you found the men who murdered Lord Otto?” Harwin rose and nodded.

“We even left them alive for questioning. Larys says they sang like songbirds for him,” Harwin told us. I frowned. He was too happy for that torture to have resulted in my name being spoken…

“And what did these murderers have to say?” asked Viserys, hand still resting on Alicent’s hand but his eyes were on my face.

“They described the man who hired them in great detail. Your Grace, I recognise the man in question. He is a Dornish merchant who operates near the docks!” Harwin told us all, breathlessly. Viserys rose to his feet, face red with rage.

“It makes sense,” said Joffrey, voice soft. Then attention of the room swivelled to him and he straightened his shoulders. Viserys hasn’t bought you here to hear you speak, I wanted to tell him, he bought you as a threat to me. “The Dornish set the Blacks and the Greens fighting and we take our eyes from them.”

“The man speaks sense,” said Jasper. “We must make war on the Dornish as soon as winter comes to an end. To avenge Alys Strong and Otto Hightower!”

“Oh, do not worry Lord Wylde. The Dornish will have their reckoning.” Viserys’ growl set chills down my spine, even as his distrusting eyes lingered on me.


	85. Scrutiny - Chapter 79

“Do not worry, wife. We will teach them how they have erred here,” Viserys assured the pale and tense Alicent as the rest of the councillors filtered away. We remained, still arrayed like naughty children until he gestured at the recently abandoned seats. We sat.

“I will require Velaryon dragons,” said Viserys. Laenor nodded, seriously. His sister followed, less assured. Joffrey remained grim. He had no dragon to offer, no sword to swear - only his mind. Judging by his unhappy look, his mind was telling him war with Dorne was not the path we should be taking. Yet blaming the Dornish was the only thing we could do in this situation unless we wished to be blamed for it ourselves.

“You have Syrax as well, Father,” I said. He studied me for a moment and then shook his head.

“No, I will not. You will remain in the capital.” I goggled at him before rage hit me like a hammer blow. Another cramp hit me but I was too angry at the thought of not going to let it show on my face.

“I will not be left behind!” Much to my annoyance, I sounded more like a whining child than a Queen. “I will have given birth by the time the banners have mustered. I will be with you!”

“No,” said Viserys, his face grim. “You will be here. You will have the babes to look after and I will need someone to be my voice in my absence.”

“You would send those I love to Dorne! Dorne!” I needed to draw back. I needed to be careful but fear pushed me on. I glared at Laenor and his sister, willing them to say something to my Father, to support my need to go. All I received were twin looks of concern from two sets of violet eyes. I felt helpless, if either of them died there… Gods, what would I do with myself?

Laenor’s death would see me forced to marry once more. To who, I do not know. Tyland Lannister was yet to find a bride; there were a few Velaryons free; Aegon was an eternal possibility. None of those options appealed to me, none failed to make my skin crawl at the thought. Laena’s death… It would hurt me so deeply I doubted I could bring myself to find another. We were so early in our relationship and yet I knew that losing the only woman I’d managed to find that excited me would change me on a level I did not want.

Just like losses of her loved ones had changed the original Rhaenyra.

“I would give you the capital. I would have you rule in my name. If the Gods be good, the conquest will be over before long.”

“It will not!” I cried and Laenor caught me gently, pulling me close. “Aegon and Visenya failed, Rhaenys failed! The Dornish will unite against us and nothing, nothing, is too dishonourable for them!”

“Then you have also argued for your exclusion from this!” barked Viserys. “I will not have you die to poison or an assassin. Be safe in the capital! Raise your babes! I will ensure your husband returns to you. Now, my wife is grieving and I must begin the process of Otto’s funeral rites.”

He would be laid out for a viewing in the Sept for seven days and seven nights. Then he would be sent to the High Tower to be interred alongside his family. After, Viserys would gather his lords. The prospect of war with Dorne would bring them to the capital in droves. The invasion would be discussed, planned and finalised in those days.

“Do not leave me out of this,” I croaked through tears that threatened to fall. “If I can not go myself, let me attend the planning. Let me do something!”

Viserys paused in his efforts of helping Alicent rise and eyed me with pursed lips. Then finally he sighed.

“An extra set of dragon riding eyes will not harm discussions,” he admitted. “I expect Lady Laena and Ser Laenor as well.”

And then we were dismissed.

I was numb by the time we made it back to the manse. Numb mentally and emotionally, feeling like my brain was working at half speed. The accusation of Otto’s murder had come out of nowhere and then been so easily disproved. War with Dorne was now a certainty and short of some sort of apocalypse, I had no way of stopping it. Those I love would be stripped from my side and I didn’t know how long for or if they’d even come back to me.

Was it truly the Dornish?

Did they truly seek to set Alicent and I to war in order to distract Westeros as a whole from themselves? Surely they are not so foolhardy. The men hired to kill Otto had spilled their guts about who had hired them within seconds. All had told the same story. The Merchant accused would soon be captured and brought to the Keep to face Larys and his confessors. Then the truth would be known.

I curled into Laena’s side as she half carried me into the drawing room that was fast becoming a conference room of sorts. Gods, I was so tired. Everything was happening too much, too fast. I wanted sleep yet my mind would not stop whirling with possibilities. She was gentle as she hauled me along, mumbling reassuring nonsense as I tried to get my legs to cooperate with me. I was lowered down into the couch closest to the fire, needing comfort, I tugged her down next to me and laid my heavy head on her shoulder. She began unpicking my hasty braid, massaging my temples as my hair came loose.

Was this how Alicent had felt when she’d been accused? Lost and frustrated?

I curled my hand around my stomach as the cramps picked up again, refusing to give me any rest from the reminder I was heavily pregnant.

Joffrey was the last to enter the room and he promptly picked up a discarded book and hurled it at the wall with enough force the crack of the impact made me jump. Three sets of violet eyes turned to him in shock and horror as he remained still, eyes wide and breath coming fast.

Then he screamed in frustration and anger, snatching up another book. I curled closer to Laena at the noise, flinching, remembering another scream of anger long ago. I grimaced at the accompanying pang of pain from my fingers. Laenor caught his wrist before he could throw the book and pulled his lover close.

“What has gotten into you?” murmured my husband. I heard the noise of frustration Joffrey let out. He was a Stormlander. A proud martial man at heart. That his anger could explode like this did not surprise me yet it still left me quailing a little internally.

“We’ve been played and I don’t even know by who,” choked Joffrey. His stick hit the ground as he raised his hands to Laenor’s waist and clung to him like a storm raged around him. Laena and I watched, not daring to interrupt the scene in front of us.

“It wasn’t the Dornish,” he continued after a moment, Laenor stroking circles on his back. “I know it wasn’t the Dornish. Someone is playing us like a fucking fiddle and I have no clue who!”

He pulled back, wobbling a little, and gave Laenor a broken look. My heart clenched at the distress I saw there.

“I failed to find a poisoned bottle of wine even after I’d drunk some of it! I failed to stop Otto from dying and triggering a war with Dorne! Everything might have been over today and I could do nothing!” he wailed. “How am I supposed to protect you if I can’t even prevent an obvious plot like this?”

Laenor pulled him close again and mumbled reassuring words to him.

“We were played,” Joffrey said, tone miserable. “This war can not be stopped now. You will be on the front lines and I can not even lift a sword to defend you.”

“Yet you can defend my wife and children, Joff. You will have stay with them here and look after them for me,” Laenor mumbled. “You know what we’re all like without you. Witless idiots chasing smoke.”

I wanted to protest my exclusion once more but was prevented from ranting by Laena’s arms clenching tightly around me.

“Rhaenys was lost due to luck and sloppiness on her part,” murmured Laena, sensing why I was so distressed. “You may be assured we will not fall prey to arrogance.”

“I order it. You are both to ensure you come back to me.” Laenor’s chuckle was my answer, at least until Joffrey reiterated the order to his lover, sounding like he was on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

“I suppose this means you can not avoid Mother’s armour fittings anymore, Laena,” Laenor said, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can not contain myself in excitement.” Her deadpan tone sent me into fits of almost hysterical giggles which set her sulking. “I detest the thought of flying whilst encased in metal.”

“It’s not too bad, Laena. You’ll need to get used to it anyway if you think Mother will allow you to set even a toe in Dorne without it. Besides, Mother has been flying in armour for years.” His eyes were bright but he was worried. 

We’d both flown in… well, the Fall of Gulltown was not war. Not in the way Dorne would be. Gulltown had been opened to it’s besiegers. Our presence had been surplus to requirements, mere bonuses that had saved lives rather than the cause itself.

Yet we’d both taken lives. Neither of us had enjoyed it. Laenor would be forced to deploy his dragon in battles and sieges, to kill with Seasmoke in a way he never had before. If he hesitated, if he let on how much the thought disturbed him, he would be labelled a craven.

“We need a strategy to take to the war council,” I said finally. “Otherwise they’ll use Otto’s as a foundation.”

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Laena, resting her hands on my belly. “I admit I am not all that martially minded but surely he wouldn’t have created a plan that would fail?”

“He wanted the Reach armies and Stormlanders taking point,” I said, ignoring the scoff that elicited from Joffrey. Andals. “It would be a bloodbath. Marcher Lords especially are very unreasonable when it comes to the Dornish.”

“Centuries of raiding will do that,” muttered my spymaster.

“He wanted,” I said, ignoring him. “The Dragons to burn every castle from here to Sunspear to prevent lengthy sieges and he wanted land for the Reach and the Stormlands after the war was done. I dread to think at the atrocities they would commit on innocent people should they be allowed their shot at glory.”

“So we need lords without bad blood with the Dornish leading the charge,” mused Laenor. “Rivermen, perhaps Valemen. Might we call the Falcons to negotiate the Red Mountains?”

I blinked at that suggestion. It had no crossed my mind. I had been of the mind to build on the strategy Daeron the Young Dragon had used to conquer Dorne in the canon timeline. Something about goat paths and Alyn Velaryon… Or were the goat paths Robb Stark?

“Have them scout for the main invasion force through the Boneway and Prince’s Pass?” He elaborated. “It would do much to counter the Dornish strategy of bleeding our men slowly through ambushes and skirmishes.”

“Plus it will demonstrate Rhaenyra has military sense even if she is not physically present. Everyone knows the Falcons are hers even if they are nominally there to control the Mountain Clans,” Joffrey said. “Though if we pull too many from the Vale the clans will respond.”

I closed my eyes and let Laena cradle me, thoughts of Jeyne and Helaena, left virtually undefended against those murderous rapists playing before my minds eye. If too many men left the Vale seeking glory, the Falcons may be the only thing to prevent a resurgence of the Mountain Clans and their raiding.

Invading Dorne was such a bad idea. Too much danger, too much to lose - not enough reward to justify it.

“Hmmm, if we can break Planky Town we could control the Greenblood. We’d break Dorne in half, shatter their united front.” I cracked open an eye as memories of the Young Dragon’s strategy finally formed and I giggled without meaning too. All three of them peered at me.

“Alyn came up with that same plan,” I told Laenor and he promptly flushed a deep red. “You can tell who you both learnt your trade from.”

“Alyn? But he is a babe?” I stiffened in Laena’s arms. I had never gotten to tell her that night. I had been too tired and after it never seemed to be a good time. 

“A future thing,” said Laenor, still red.

“Perhaps I should be told about that,” she said dryly in response.

“I will give you the details later,” Joffrey was quick to interrupt even as Laenor opened his mouth to tell her everything. She nodded in agreement and let the matter lie.

“I will see if I can’t come up with someway to subdue Dorne. It will do much for our cause if I am seen as the Warrior Prince to your Good Queen,” said Laenor, blushing when Joffrey directed a look of pride at him. I smiled, to be fair to Joffrey, that was something he’d likely learnt by spending time in his proximity.

“And what would my Princess have me do? I can focus on battle; I have acquired texts detailing the Third Ghiscari war,” asked Laena, sounding almost eager. At my baffled look, she blushed a little and I was reminded of Laenor’s enthusiasm regarding Yi-ti. “The Third Ghiscari war saw the most dragons downed during the fighting. Nearly more were brought down than the other four put together. Mother and I can use it to develop techniques against siege weaponry to avoid such fates.”

I decided a history lesson would too much for tonight. If Laena were anything like Laenor, I’d be getting one soon enough.

“Your Princess would have you take her to bed and lie with her whilst she passes out for the rest of the day,” I grumbled, causing her to laugh. “But figuring out how to ensure you all return to me alive is your highest priority.”

She smiled.

“Far be it from me to deny my Princesses commands,” she purred and it was a testament to how uncomfortable I was that the voice and accompanying throaty rumble did precisely nothing for me. Then she pouted. “It’s a shame though. I really thought I was on to something with the hatching process.”

“Is this why you tore Dragonstone’s library apart looking for an unedited copy of Septon Barth’s work?” I asked, ignoring Laenor’s snickering. “Because I had to field that particular complaint. The Castellan was most displeased with the mess you left.”

“Laena is like that when she gets stuck on a topic. Our Maester once had to chase her halfway across the castle after she looted a good amount of his maps to chart an optimal air route to Braavos.” Her leg shot out and kicked at his knees in response to his teasing and he danced backwards, grinning widely.

“Don’t start this war, Laenor, you can’t win,” she warned. “I know far more about you than you do about me!”

“Yes but Joffrey already knows all that. Rhaenyra, on the other hand, has yet to learn about your belief cats were female dogs until long after you rode Vhagar. Or-” I was gently pushed aside as she wriggled around me and darted after her brother. His laugh became a screech as she jammed her fingers into his side, sending him flailing sideways in a vain attempt to escape.

I laughed at the siblings antics before pain spasmed through my stomach and I was forced to lean over and groan as the pangs and cramps I had been ignoring all day made themselves known in a way that brought tears to my eyes. Laenor was at my side in an instant, his eyes wide and concerned as I breathed through the pain. Then I tensed as I felt warm liquid trickle down my leg and my face burned with the humiliation of wetting myself in front of my husband and my lover. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. 

“I… I had a bit of an accident,” I admitted in a whisper, cheeks burning. “I may need some help cleaning myself up.”

His eyes widened as he nodded, going to stand to call a maid when Laena leant past him, evidently having seen the small puddle that must no doubt be forming. I wanted to melt into the floor, wanted the earth to swallow me whole that she should see it.

“Blockhead! Call Alannys! Her waters have broken!”

Oh.


	86. Interlude - Laena

Rhaenyra was not beautiful like this.

She was not beautiful drenched in sweat and tears with her braid a mess, sending her hair frizzing about her face. She was not beautiful crouched on all fours, screaming and sobbing in pain, begging for someone to make it all stop. Yet she could not have loved her more in that moment. She curled her hands down her bare sides and kneaded at her back and sides, trying desperately to relieve some of the pain the woman she loved was feeling. It had been easier a few hours earlier, before the contractions had started in truth. 

“Seven help me, Gods help me,” sobbed Rhaenyra and she wanted nothing more to cradle her until it was all better. Her lover’s pain burned at her, pulled at her heart, in a way she could barely stand.

“Breath with me, Rhaenyra. It’ll all be fine. You were made for this. You just need to breath,” she murmured, bringing a hand over her hair and pushing it back from her face. Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered close for a brief moment and then she nodded with a grimace, attempting to follow the breathing that she laid out for her. They were supposed to teach her this in confinement. Yet the babes had come early. Too early, she feared. Rhaenyra was still over a week away from taking her chamber.

“The baby is close to crowning, get her to do several smaller pushes,” ordered Alannys from her position at the other end of the bed. Rhaenyra must have heard her because she gave a choked sob before wailing in pain.

“It’s too much! It’s too much! I can’t!” No, she could not let her go down that path. She had to stop her, she had experienced this.

“It’s fine. Breathe with me. We’ll breathe together, then you push when I say.” Her breath stuttered when Rhaenyra’s eyes met hers, a haze of pain in them. Yet also trust. Complete and utter trust. She would not betray that trust, not again. The urge to drop a kiss to her brow rose strong inside her and she quashed it, she could not do that in front of the midwives.

“With me,” she murmured into those trusting eyes. “Ready?”

The first babe came into the world ten minutes later, a loud wail announcing their presence. 

“A girl!” called Alannys, handing her off to a waiting midwife. She could not watch for long, Rhaenyra had yet more work. She knew it too, had realised it, because she was crying and begging once more. Invoking the names of Gods that Laena had never heard of to spare her, to make it all end. Swearing in a manner she would not have expected from a highborn woman, swearing in a way that turned her pink despite the circumstances.

“You can do this, Rhaenyra, you can. Are you going to prove Alicent right? That you will fail here? Will you let the one who sought to harm your babes win?” From the clenched jaw she received in turn, her comments had hit the mark as she braced once more, trying to recapture the rhythm they had established. Alannys gave her a nod of respect. The babes coming so soon had been a surprise. Rhea was not here, Mother was not here.

Only she was here. Her hands kneaded at her back once more as Rhaenyra wailed and pushed. 

“You are doing so well,” she told her, as the babe already born was attended too. Gods, she was so small. Lucerys had been a giant compared to this babe and yet she struggled against the midwife that was holding her, screaming up a storm. “A little more. A few more pushes. You will have two babes then. Little Alyssa is already here. Her sister or brother should join her soon.”

She doubted Rhaenyra was actually listening to what she said now yet the sound of her voice brought those pained eyes back to her and her lover pushed her forehead into her midsection, bringing her hands forward, under her skirts, to clench at her thighs. It drew a hiss of pain from her and she was certain that she would draw blood before the end. She would bear it. If it scarred her, she would bear the scars as well.

She owed her that much.

She had borne pain from someone she loved before. She could bear yet more from Rhaenyra.

“Ah, shit,” muttered Alannys and her eyes found the midwife in horror. Alannys, as a general rule, tried not to swear. Especially not in front of a woman already given to panic in the throes of of birth. “Get her to push, Laena, now!”

She did, coaxing action from the Princess with a calm she did not feel. When the second babe crowned once more, Rhaenyra screamed louder than any time before, twisting her nails deeper into her flesh. Then she vomited into her lap. Bile rose to her throat yet Rhaenyra kept her pinned in position, the tearing feeling in her thighs growing worse.

What had happened?

There was no cry from the new babe and her heart flew into her throat. There was no cry, no sound. Below her, Rhaenyra seemed not to have realised as her sobbing continued with no change in pitch or rhythm. Alannys turned away from them, hiding the child from view but Laena saw. It was even smaller than the first. Was it dead? Had Rhaenyra struggled so hard, survived so much, only to lose one of her babes before they even lived?

Then a reedy wail split the air and her sigh of relief must have been audible even to Alannys and her compatriots.

“Another girl,” said Alannys after a moment.

The new babe was quickly weighed and examined then placed in a waiting tank. She fought the worry in her gut.

Then the midwives finally noticed the position she was in. They were swift after that. They pried Rhaenyra from her, and yes she had drawn blood, allowing her to get free. Then she was sent from the room to change whilst they ‘stitched’ the damage. She felt ill at that. She had needed no stitches afterwards. She swallowed back bile as she remembered how scared she’d been, how terrified birth made Rhaenyra.

If anything happened now, could she forgive herself?

Laenor and her mother met her half way down the corridor. What a sight she must have been, covered in vomit and her own blood. Exhaustion hit her as if she had run a footrace and she sagged into the wall.

“Girls,” she told her brother and his face lit up.

“Girls!” he repeated at volume, like some kind of mimic bird. Could she forgive him if Rhaenyra died? 

“What’s wrong?” asked mother. Laenor paused, his glee flickering into worry. “You look grim.”

“One of them… they put one of them in the tank. She was so… so small and she did not cry until a while after the birth. Alannys says Rhaenyra needs stitches,” she babbled, worry making her nearly incoherent. Laenor looked to their mother like a lost puppy and she sighed, aggrieved.

She could not forgive him if Rhaenyra died, she decided.

At her look, mother took Laenor by the arm and sent him off to see the new babes and his wife. Then her own arm was taken and she was marched to her rooms and stripped. A damp washcloth was pushed into her hands and she cleaned herself the best she could. Rhaenyra had torn her legs open and the cleaning renewed the dribbles of blood, prompting mother take cloth from her and press it too them.

“She will be fine. More women than not need stitching back up after birth,” mother said, as she moved the cloth to the basin and back. “The Seven know I needed it with you and your brother.”

“I did not,” she mumbled and her mother chuckled.

“Your pregnancy was about as good as they go,” she was told. There was a tone she did not recognise in her voice when she spoke again. “It will take Rhaenyra longer to recover. She will need time and rest.”

Rhaenyra was not the type to rest for long unless she was feeling sorry for herself. She hated her like that, her black moods that could bring anger or self-recrimination.

“Did you see much of the babes?” Her mother’s voice was anxious and she smiled despite herself.

“No. But what I did see… they were so small. Much smaller than Lucerys,” she mused and her mother snorted in amusement once more.

“Twins are small. Twins that come early smaller still. Come!” her mother stood, depositing the bloody washcloth in the basin. “Let’s get you dressed. Then we shall go and see your new nieces.”


	87. Afterbirth - Chapter 80

“Please do not remove the babe from the tank,” came Alannys’ voice. It was hazy and indistinct through my exhaustion and I forced my eyes open, entire body aching and in pain. I wanted nothing more to sleep yet they would not let me. They had changed the bedding, cleaned me up and forced me into a new, clean gown but they would not let me sleep.

I had struggled with the twins for hours. Long enough for Laenor to fly to Driftmark and back. All I wanted was sleep and yet they insisted I must feed the twins first.

“But… I wanted to hold her…” Laenor whined and I grimaced at his tone. I had bore them for nearly thirty five weeks. I had pushed them from myself, I had bled and cried as they left me. 

“She can not yet regulate her own body temperature,” chided Alannys. “Rhaenyra’s body will help whilst she is feeding but she must remain in that tank at all other times.”

When Laenor did not answer, Alannys tried a change of tact. 

“If you parade her for all and sundry, you may kill her!”

One of Alannys’ midwives pulled my gown open, earning them a pathetic whine that I would have been humiliated for anyone to hear except I was too tired to care. It got Laenor’s attention though and he dropped himself to my side, excited look in his eyes.

“Girls! Girls, Rhaenyra!” he giggled, then dropped a few kisses across my brow as the midwife tried to pull me up into a sitting position. He earned a few sour looks from the woman I did not know the name of until he eventually helped, hooking his hands under my arms and hauling me up with a surprising gentleness. “Although I think we may need to revisit names.”

Alarm flickered through me, pushing me a little more into wakefulness. Targaryens had a history of dodgy pregnancies, all dotted about the family tree. Canon Rhaenyra had given birth to a half dragon monster just before the Dance itself.

“What? Why? What is wrong?” Realising he had alarmed me, he raised his hands.

“They are fine. Fine babes. It’s just-” He was interrupted as Alannys handed me the first babe, laying her across my chest. She was awake, unfocused violet eyes moving back and forth, seeing nothing. Unfocused violet eyes… under a head of wispy black hair. 

I swallowed. That would be the subject of some gossip if I knew Alicent. Hopefully she would grow to resemble Rhaenys. 

“I don’t think this one is an Alyssa,” whispered Laenor with quiet reverence.

Gods, why was I already finding fault with them? They were my children. Not political pawns. Then I felt guilty anew because one of them was already promised to Lord Reyne’s firstborn son. No. Stop. Don’t think about that. Focus on the babes here and now. The Reynes could and would wait.

“This is my firstborn?” I asked and he nodded, causing a pang of sadness in my gut. I had wanted my firstborn to be Alyssa but I could agree with him. It did not feel right to name her after the grandmother on my side when she so clearly took after Laenor’s mother. “Rhaenys then? Rhaenys the younger?”

“I had a different idea,” he said. “Something that will have mother over the moon with joy.”

“Go on,” I said as she began to wiggle against me, seeking out a source of food. He was distracted for a while, watching as his firstborn child began her feeding with a look of wonder in his eyes and his fist crammed into his mouth, presumably so he didn’t giggle like the absolute dork he was.

“Jocelyn,” he finally said. “We name her Jocelyn and the other Alyssa. She has our hair.”

“Hello, Jocelyn,” I said. She ignored us both in favour of her meal. “You’re right, your mother will be over the moon. Where is she now? I expected her to arrive with you.”

“Oh! Cleaning Laena up. You… made quite the mess.” I didn’t have any answer to that. She had been there through it all and yet I could barely remember her through the haze of pain and the feeling I was being torn open from the inside. 

I cradled Jocelyn close for a long time, long after she’d finished feeding. Both of us just watching her eyes open and close as she fought the need to sleep. Finally, she was taken from me to be placed in her cradle and Alyssa was handed to me.

She was small. Heartbreakingly tiny. Smaller even than Jocelyn. Like Laenor had said she was violet eyed and silver haired and I wanted to clutch her close as if my will for her to live was all that was keeping her alive. I understood their unspoken worry now. Babes this small did not have a high chance of surviving to see their sixth month. It took some persuasion on my part to get her to latch on and when she finally took her first few swallows she coughed and sputtered, prompting a wailing cry. I soothed her as best as I could, coaxing her back to her meal as Laenor fretted over us both. She did take her fill in the end and Alannys had her back in the tank with speed that spoke of practise.

The tank was an incubator really, the first one ever to be used. It was too expensive to commission many yet, not before the Glassworks was up and running. The design was based off of the one they had used for chickens since the Andals came to Westeros and brought it over with them. Yet no one in all those years had looked at the chicken incubator and gone - hey we can use that for our babies too!

It was a similar story on earth, that such a simple idea could not be put into use until the 1800s. It was also very, very useful in the matter of premature babies. They could lower the chance of death by one-third. That had been the statistic I had written down in my papers. I had to remember that, I had to believe that. A warm box, heated by a hot-water bottles with a glass lid could be the difference between my babes living and dying.

Laenor took my hand and smiled. I could see now that he had been crying, I could see the tear tracks on his face. 

“Ready for some visitors? I have no doubt your Father resents being held in the drawing room for so long.” I managed a weak chuckle at that. I had no doubt he’d be ready to kick the door in with impatience. 

Visitors I would likely receive aplenty in the coming days. Anyone who could justify access to the Manse would be eager to meet the children. It was only proper though that Viserys and Alicent were the first. It did not take long for them to get to the room after Laenor gave the order for them to be fetched. 

My father arrived pale and worried and upon seeing me awake even if barely, he sighed in relief. Even Alicent, who arrived at a more sedate pace, managed a tight smile. Although she no doubt wanted time to grieve for her father, she did not want to be here celebrating my children’s birth.

I saw the exact moment she laid her eyes on Jocelyn though. Her eyes lit up as if she had just been given some grand present completely unexpectedly. No doubt the black hair - let her try and capitalise on that. Rhaenys would feed anyone who dared imply her a bastard to Meleys.

“Black of hair?” she asked, feigning a puzzled look and immediately bringing Viserys bustling over to examine her. Alicent’s green eyes swept from Jocelyn to Alyssa, where they narrowed. “Oh but this one has the Targaryen look.”

I wished I had the strength to rise from this bed and kick her teeth in. Her Father’s body was not even cold and she was preparing for her next scheme. Viserys winced and Alicent realised her mistake a moment later as Laenor frowned.

“She takes after her grandmother. I trust you do not intend to tell her she does not have the Targaryen look,” he said and Alicent was quick to back peddle. Not even her status as Viserys’ wife would save her from getting drop kicked into the Blackwater by an enraged Rhaenys.

“My mistake. It was merely something of a surprise. You both bear the classic Valyrian look,” she said hastily. “But the Baratheon colouring has proved persistent in the past!”

“Have you decided on names?” asked Viserys, hopeful for any distraction from the sudden awkward turn the conversation had taken.

“Jocelyn, for my firstborn,” I told him. He dropped a hand to the wooden rail of the crib and smiled down at his firstborn grandchild.

“Jocelyn, for Rhaenys’ mother I presume?” he asked, then turned to the tank and moved on without waiting for a reply. “And the second?” 

I gave him a broad smile, sensing his reaction to the next next name might be slightly less restrained, even if it were not for the same reasons I had wanted my daughter named as such.

“Alyssa.” He swallowed at my pronouncement and turned a teary stare on the smaller twin, still nestled in her box.

“You have named them after the great grandmothers, I see?” said Alicent as Viserys tried to recover himself, tried not to breakdown over the name of his grandchild. Laenor nodded my answer for me, even if it had not been intentional, the symmetry was still as pleasing as Valaena and Alyssa.

“When they are bigger, I expect plenty of attention from their grandfather,” I told him and he laughed.

“The Stranger himself could not stop me! Grandchildren! Look at them. My little dragons! I wish Aemma could have met them.” The reminder of her loss so soon after new life made my insides twist. Judging from the look Alicent shot him, she hadn’t taken that any better than I had.

“I wish that too,” I said hoarsely. “But I will read to them like she did for me in her memory.”

“As long as they do not invade the library half as much as you did,” he laughed. “Nothing was as troublesome as you deciding to use some new phrase you’d read in front of the wrong people.”

Haha, all of that was on purpose. 

“They are her children,” said Laenor, shooting me a fond smile. “They will be terrors but they will be clever and fierce as well.”

“I hope they take after you instead. Giving me children just like I was seems too close to punishment.” Viserys roared with laughter at that and even Alicent’s lips twitched into an unwanted smile. She and I had gotten into our fair share of mischief when I had been just a child, desperately trying to make her love me. I watched as Viserys’ eyes drifted back to Alyssa, softening with love.

“Your Grace, it has nearly been an hour since the last feeding,” Alannys informed us, making us all jump with the reminder of her existence. Had it truly been an hour? Did I really have to feed them every hour?

“Of course,” said Viserys before making his way over to me. He bundled me into a tight hug, burying his face into my hair. “Be well, daughter. I shall visit as soon as I am able tomorrow. You focus on the children, focus on healing. There will be much to be done in the coming months.”

Of course. Dorne. The war that would take Laena from her son and Laenor from his daughters. The war that would take them from me.

“Of course, Father.” Laenor saw them out with a bow before making his way back to my side. Alannys waylaid him with a bundle I could only assume was Jocelyn. I watched as he practically melted as he brought her over, violet eyes threatening tears. Alannys helped me with my gown and soon enough Jocelyn was back on my breast. 

“You will only need to do this for the first few days. Then it will be every three-to-four hours,” she told me and I resisted the urge to groan. Why had I agreed to feed them myself? Oh yes, knicker-wetting terror that I’d somehow kill them by giving them over to nursemaids. I examined the tiny child at my breast and couldn’t quite suppress a smile as she wiggled against me.

“They’re beautiful,” said Laenor.

“Of course they are.” Was my reply. “They’re ours.”


	88. Afterbirth - Chapter 81

“Jocelyn…” repeated Rhaenys, faintly. Behind her, Corlys’ face lit up with a smile that he directed squarely at his his wife’s back. With shaking hands she leaned over and took the child from her son. Then she sniffled. Laenor caught my eye and smiled as if he wasn’t teary eyed himself. As if I weren’t teary eyed myself.

“Hello Jocelyn,” she murmured, a tiny fist was waved at her and the tell-tale sounds of Jocelyn about to let everyone know she was unhappy were the only sounds in the room. The Queen Who Never Was stared, entranced for a while, as Jocelyn continued to fight and struggle.

And then she broke, cradling the babe close to her chest as she stared at us with tears running down her face.

“She’s perfect,” she managed to say after a moment. “She’s perfect!”

Gently and reluctantly she handed Jocelyn to Corlys, who took his first granddaughter and gazed at her with a smile. Rhaenys stepped forward suddenly and flung her arms around her son, pulling him close until I heard the whoosh of breath out of his body. Then, after a moment where I thought he might actually start struggling against her, she released him.

Her arms were around my shoulders next, a fierce hug but much gentler than the one Laenor had been subject too. I let myself sink into it, missing my Mother and remembering those days where Rhaenys had been the only one I could trust in the face of a fate worse than death. When her love had not been conditional on what babes I pumped out.

“They’re both perfect,” she whispered before pulling back and giving me a watery smile. “Let me give her an egg from Meleys.”

That caught me completely by surprise and I felt a pang of loss. I had wanted to give them eggs from Syrax but looking at Rhaenys’ hopeful face… I couldn’t say no. Besides, I could give Alys an egg from Syrax when the time came. When they were both able to be placed in the crib.

“That would be wonderful,” I said and a grin lit up Rhaenys’ face. I was saved from her overwhelming happiness by Laena stepping in. 

“Rhaenyra! Oh, hello mother.” She looked completely taken back at how emotional her mother was. Even more so when she too was swept into a bone crushing hug.

“Rhaenyra, your ladies are here,” she managed to say when she’d wriggled free of Rhaenys, who was right back to cooing over Jocelyn with her husband and son. I swallowed thickly and my eyes met Laenor’s who had evidently overheard Laena’s information. He gave me a nod and then raised his hand to his Mother’s elbow, steering her and Jocelyn over to the crib.

Corlys seemed to get his son’s plan a moment later but it still took a few minutes for her to finish her gushing goodbye to both the babes. Not that Alys noticed. Alys was fast asleep. Then Laenor herded them out, dropping one last kiss on my forehead as I rearranged the silk robe I wore over my nightgown. The one decorated with Seahorses and silver because I’d stolen it gleefully from Laenor.

I’m sure I looked a fright. I’d managed a few hour long naps, broken only by the need to feed the babes. Even then I did that zombie-like and only half aware of Alannys and her co-worker doing most of the work for me. I would have to do something nice for Laenor. It had been his brave and much appreciated sacrifice in the face of his Mother that bought that time.

Still, I was sure my ladies had seen me looking worse.

“Rhaenyra!” Marya threw her arms about me as best she could. It startled a laugh from me. “We feared for you after Laena told us the babes came early!”

Oh, did she now?

“I am well enough now. The babes too,” I told her, nodding in their direction. She gave the tank a puzzled look and Laena launched into an explanation of their purpose. I noted, with a smile, how her hand rested protectively on it.

“Might we see them? When are they being announced?”

I smiled at the anxious tone and the way my ladies were trying their best to not overtly peer to intently.

“By all means. Just do not remove the glass over Alyssa. She was born too… too small.” Laena dropped into the chair next to the bed as I seated myself somewhat gingerly on the mattress. As the small crowd drifted over the newborns and the exclamations of delight sprang up, a wailing cry of unhappiness told me they’d woken Jocelyn from her sleep. I grimaced.

“What are their names?” asked Falena, after spending a few moments cooing to the wailing Jocelyn. They wanted to lift her up, I could tell.

“Jocelyn, for the black haired babe. You may hold her.” This provoked another round of cooing as Jocelyn was passed back and forth, screaming the entire time. “And Alyssa for the silver haired babe.”

I waited until they were distracted before meeting Sera’s eye and summoning her over with a quirk of my head. Laena watched her carefully as she reached me, looking decidedly puzzled at why she’d been called away from the babes.

“I ask your permission but I had hoped to refer to Alyssa by a shortened version of her name. Alys.” The Strong girl’s eyes widened and then she turned away to hide the tears that threatened and I had to dab at my own eyes in turn. Thankfully, the rest of the ladies attention did not waver from my babes as they pointed out little details to each other. Although how they could do so over the racket Jocelyn was making was beyond me. Judging from Laena’s grimace she was thinking about profusely thanking the Mother for Lucerys’ lack of tantrums. Jocelyn could even wail whilst feeding, a feat Laena assured me was quite impressive.

“She would… she would have loved that,” Sera managed after a moment. “Oh, I wish she were here to see them. She’d love them, Rhaenyra, she really would.”

A moment later, Laena surprised me by standing and drawing the Strong girl into a hug. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, given that I could just hear her own sniffles alongside Sera’s. 

“I miss her too,” my lover mumbled and Sera nodded. Then they broke apart as Falena cleared her throat.

“Septon Patrek sends his regards, Rhaenyra. He says that he and his followers pray for you and the twins. They wish you a fast recovery,” she said. I was willing to bet he did. The Gold Cloaks my no longer be an issue but those knights had not ceased their harassment and with Joffrey focused on Alys’ killer, the mystery of who sent them was still unsolved.

“Enough of the religion, Fal,” said Maris, passing Jocelyn to her. “We are here for the babes.”

Surprisingly, that did not provoke an argument between the two. Instead, Falena took Jocelyn and smiled at her, ear-splitting cries and all. My ladies stayed for a good long while and I realised, much to my surprise, I’d missed them all fiercely. So when they left, I told them in my best commanding tone that I expected them to return to their roles as soon as they were able. From the reaction, I deduced they were quite happy at the prospect. I still missed Alys, it felt wrong not having her there to teach the twins some diabolical trick I’d inevitably fall for but… well, Sera had been right. Alys would not have wanted me to drive my ladies away.

At least Jocelyn had gone back to sleep, lulled there by Maris singing Vale lullaby’s until even I’d felt somewhat sleepy.

“I feared you would never call us back,” said Laena, reminding me she was still there lest I spend the next hour lost in my own thoughts. “How are you feeling?”

“I am sore. Very sore,” I told her and she ran her hand down my arm as if she could drive away the pain. “Your mother wants to give Jocelyn an egg from Meleys.”

Her lips quirked into an amused smile at that.

“She’ll spoil Jocelyn rotten,” she told me. 

“I know. Still, Father will spoil Alys rotten so I imagine it will all balance out.” She laughed and then her face went thoughtful as she gazed at me.”What? Do I have something on my face?”

Oh no, did I do my gown up after I fed Alys and Jocelyn? A quick check told me I had so why was she-

My train of thought shuddered to a halt as she clambered onto the bed and laid next to me, dropping a long kiss to my lips. I groaned at the feel of it, burying my hand in her ringlets and pulling her further down, feeling as if my heart might beat out of my chest. 

When I accidentally pulled her hair, she froze, going still as a statute next to me and I drew back. She seemed far a way in that moment and then a moment later her eyes met mine and she was back in the present.

“What is it?” I asked, concerned. She smiled, aiming for reassuring and falling far short of the mark.

“Nothing. Nothing,” she said when I continued to look unconvinced. “I am fine.”

As to prove her point she leaned towards me once more, pressing into me as if she could use her body to convince me I hadn’t seen what I thought I had. Fear.

Before I could pull away again to confront her, an obviously fake cough made us both freeze. My heart practically stopped and from the whoosh of breath that left Laena, I guessed she was in the same boat. The silence felt like it went on forever but it was only a second or two before the interloper spoke.

“You really should latch the door if you intend to do that,” came Joffrey’s clearly amused voice and I groaned in relief. That could have been… bad. Latching the door would be a high priority for the future.

“Joffrey, I’m going to kill you,” Laena whined, swinging herself off the bed with a sigh. My spymaster’s grin only widened in response, then he limped over to the children and examined them in the same way he looked at Lucerys. I didn’t miss the fond smile on Laena’s face as she watched him.

I would have to create a will, have Laena and Joffrey named the chosen guardians should Laenor and I die before their majority. The fact that it was a real possibility made me want to throw up a little. I did not want what happened to Aegon Dragonbane to happen to any of my kids. They’d be cared for by someone who loved them. Someone who could tell them about me without the bias and the politics.

“You have quite the serious look on your face,” observed Joffrey as he made his way back to both of us. “What has you brooding now?”

“I’m not-” I started much to both Laena and Joffrey’s amusement. “I was thinking on who would be the guardians of my children if something should happen to me.”

“Ah,” said Joffrey. 

“Is this because of… what was his name? Aegon? His regents caused him endless problems, yes?” Laena seemed proud that she could finally engage with us on that level and I couldn’t help sending a raised eyebrow Joffrey’s way.

“She was fretting whilst you slept. Telling her what you told us was a better method than physically sitting on her,” he explained with a shrug, sending Laena a vibrant red.

“You couldn’t sit on me if you tried,” she mumbled when she saw my evident amusement. At the comment, Joffrey grinned again before his eyes became serious. I tensed without meaning to and even Laena focused on him in the wake of his change in demeanour.

“I expect we’ll hear from Lord Reyne within the next few weeks but I would like your permission to invite him to the capital to negotiate the finer details of the betrothal in person. The War Council will be a fine cover,” he said. Breath was hard to draw for a moment until Laena dropped a hand to my shoulder.

“Worse betrothals have been made for worse reasons. Think of my own unfortunate one? Tycheo was a…” She paused, struggling for the right word.

“I believe you referred to him as ‘Braavos’ Village Idiot’,” Joffrey supplied and she nodded violently, sending her mussed ringlets dancing about her face.

“Yes, thank you, Joffrey. Do you know he once got drunk, came to my rooms, stripped naked and lay on my bed? He passed out before I got there and a maid found him but still…” Then she seemed to remember where she was. “You can ask for Lord Reyne’s son to be a squire for Laenor. Then you get to influence him, see him grow into a man with ideals of your choosing.”

Not a bad idea, actually. Still…

“I don’t care what contract is in place, if any boy betrothed to them does that, they can expect a meeting with Syrax to explain their behaviour,” I said, firmly and Joffrey covered up his chuckle with a cough. 

“You are, of course, assuming they’d reach Syrax. Laenor is likely to take exception to that too,” he pointed out. “He certainly took exception to Laena’s ex-betrothed doing so.”

Laena nodded very seriously and then giggled. Still, the moment of levity did not last long.

“I know having them be alive and unhappy is better than dead but…” I sighed. “It still feels wrong.”

“You can be assured that should any young man or woman seeking to marry Lucerys, Jocelyn or Alyssa, or indeed any of our future children, not be suitable for them, they will not make it to the ceremony.” Joffrey’s tone was almost cold. I shouldn’t find that reassuring but I did. 

‘Our’ children. Oh Joffrey, you do want one of your own, don’t you?

“I believe you,” I said. Then I took a deep breath once more. “Tell me, Joffrey, how old it Kermit Tully?”


	89. Afterbirth - Chapter 82

Jocelyn was crying. Again. Not that Lyonel Strong seemed to care. Nor did his daughter.

The Hand had still not recovered from the loss of one of his daughters, that was as plain as the day to see. There were dark circles under his eyes and where he’d always been clean-shaven and neat, he now boasted a ragged beard and his doublet showed at least one stain. He gazed down at the babes. I had little doubt that Sera had reported to him just how Alyssa would be referred to by everyone but Viserys.

I knew this because he looked to be on the verge of weeping. I’d never really gotten to know Lyonel all that well. He was my father’s Hand, promoted from Master of Laws after Otto’s none to gracious exit from King’s Landing. Even as Master of Laws he’d been the quiet type, the get-on-with-your-job-and-don’t-rock-the-boat type. I knew he’d grated at Daemon’s behaviour just like knew I he’d been all for executing him after his attack on me.

He was Viserys’ man. He’d sent his girls to me to tell me that. His friendship with Corlys came easily to him because he knew Corlys had a vested interest in following Viserys’ wishes.

“Your Grace has been very kind to my family,” he said and his voice was rough with emotion. Then he cleared his throat and met my eyes. Like his son, he was a handsome man, although his looks were eroding under the steady tides of age by this point. Although I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to be commenting on anyone’s looks given my current style was a nightgown and only getting out of bed to use the privy.

Healing from birth was a slow, painful and sometimes slightly humiliating process.

“Soon little Alys will be big enough to survive outside of the incubator,” enthused Sera from her seat next to me. At his daughter’s happiness, he smiled but it was quickly replaced with a look of pain. Sera would likely never bear children of her own. That she had insinuated herself as the babes chief protector should not come as a surprise to me yet it did. She was determined she would love them as she believed Alys would have done. As she would not be able to love her own children.

“The King can scarce contain himself,” he pointed out. “Although I suppose Harwin can not either. I thought Ser Laenor would have to restrain him from how insistent he was at getting in here.”

Okay… what’s Harwin up to now? He has to know there’s no chance of an illicit romance by now so what figures? I pushed the worry aside. There had been no note of accusation in Lyonel’s voice.

“I apologise, but the room is not so large as to hold Larys, Harwin, Sera and yourself all at once.” It very much was and I think Lyonel knew that. The truth was I couldn’t handle all four of the Strongs at once.

“I will send them up to you and then Sera can catch me up on how her day has been,” said the Hand. He cast one last look at the babes, bowed and left. Sera gave me a small grin as she followed her father out. He had barely interacted with the twins during their time as my ladies. Alys’ death had spurred him to be a much more involved father, it seemed. I was not allowed time to muse over the Hand however because moments later, Harwin and Larys let themselves in.

Harwin looked as well as his father did, handsome face ravaged by grief and loss. The twins and he had always been close, at least that is what I had gathered from Sera and Alys’ many stories. Larys looked as put together as ever, intelligent brown eyes taking in every detail of the room, myself and the incubator before coming once again to rest on me.

“Your Grace, Sera has told us of your intentions regarding young Alyssa,” he said when Harwin was silent for a beat to long. I fancied he looked a bit unsure by that, Harwin was usually the boastful, loud brother. It was unlike Larys to be allowed to take the lead in a conversation.

“It is one way of honouring her. It does not seem like enough but it is a start,” I said and Harwin nodded, face spasming into a grimace. “I hope that you will be able to see more of them both once she is out of the tank.”

“Oh yes, indeed. We can visit them often… if Your Grace wishes it,” Harwin piped up, something of his old charm and enthusiasm returning to his features. Then they darkened once more. “Alys would want us too.”

“I apologise, Your Grace, Harwin has not taken the death of our sister well,” said Larys and I watched as Harwin’s fists clench tight.

“And you seem to care not! Our sister died!” I flinched as his voice rose. “Our sister died because someone wanted to kill the Princess!”

“I care,” he said quietly. “I will find who killed her, Harwin.”

“Humph, never got why they were so fond of you. You know they filled my boots with horse dung when they learned I’d called you limpy in front of Her Grace,” muttered Harwin. Larys settled back into his chair looking as if someone had just physically punched him. “Yet you seem not to care when Alys dies!”

“I did not-” He started but Harwin had moved on.

“Your Grace!” He declaration had me turning to him in surprise. “I swear to you I’ll find who did this. She died for you, I’ll not waste that dedication. I’m your man from this day to the end of my days.”

“That is very sweet of you, Harwin,” I said. “But the prevailing theory is that it was Dornish poison that took Alys’ life.”

“The merchant that hired Otto’s killers was very clear he was the Dornish factor in the city,” said Larys, his voice hoarse. “I questioned him myself.”

“Maybe the Dornish did kill Otto but I don’t believe they tried to kill Her Grace,” he grumbled, prompting a raised eyebrow from myself and a strange look from Larys. Harwin was not given to his critical thinking skills. Had enough time in the City Watch finally taught him a few tricks? Or had someone fed him that information?

“I admit the merchant was not forthcoming when it came to the poison,” said Larys, dragging himself back into present. “But I hear an investigation is still under way?”

“A few servants have left the Keep’s service since the tourney and now. Joffrey is hard at work tracking them down,” I told him and Larys actually smiled even as Harwin snorted in derision.

“The lick-spittle that follows Ser Laenor everywhere?” asked Harwin and there was grudging respect in his voice when he mentioned Laenor. Evidently his duel had elevated him a little in Harwin’s eyes, gone were the days when he’d levy an insult at every opportunity.

“Ser Joffrey is Laena Velaryon’s husband. The Princesses goodbrother,” said Larys, icily. “He has come far in the past year or so, has he not? From second son to the husband of a dragon rider, father of a dragon rider and in charge of much of our Princesses household.”

He sounded almost pro- Gods be good… surely not? His brown eyes met mine and for a moment I saw a spark of surprise.

“Oh! I’d forgotten about that,” mused Harwin, breaking up Larys’ and I’s staring contest. “Mushroom told some really funny jokes about the wedding after we got news.”

“This is the type of man my brother is, Your Grace, he gets his news from the court fool,” sneered Larys, prompting Harwin to stiffen and his eyes to flash dangerously. “Or used to.”

“Mushroom was prone to adding details no decent man would find funny into his jokes,” I said and Larys’ head whipped towards me. “I must admit I did not hear his jokes about my goodbrother. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me, Harwin?”

Harwin flushed in embarrassment and squirmed in his seat but it was Larys I was watching. He looked almost angry and I bet I was right as why. It would seem Laenor was right about the… courting, no doubt he would be thrilled to be vindicated.

“He implied that the rumours Daemon spread regarding you and Lady Laena were true.” Anger hit me like a punch to the gut. Nobody had believed them, even Alicent hadn’t bothered encouraging their spread to any real degree. I would warrant Mushroom pursued them because he was a nasty little shit too pleased by any kid of ‘deviancy’. “Ah, his story went on to imply Ser Velaryon an unknowing idiot, blind even to Ser Laenor’s alleged proclivities.”

“I can’t imagine my father put up with that,” I said, trying to stay calm. If Larys had killed Mushroom… well, I clearly owed him some flowers at the least.

“The Princess understands, like I do, that any right-thinking man would find Mushroom’s stories disgusting,” said Larys. “As it was, Mushroom was never eager to tell those particular jokes within the King’s presence.”

“It is ill-done to speak badly of the dead but I can not find it within me to think well of Mushroom,” I said. Harwin nodded thoughtfully. 

“He was also telling everyone you slept with Ser Velaryon after your return to the Vale. He told everyone that Ser Laenor would not bed you because you would not give him up. Or maybe it was because you stole him…” said Harwin. Larys clenched his jaw and nodded. No doubt he’d been on Alicent’s orders when he’d come up with that particular comedy routine.

Gods damn Alicent Hightower’s imagination. 

“He thinks… thought that any man not fully whole was an acceptable target of ridicule,” he said, making Harwin snort and my eyebrows shoot up.

Did you kill him because he insulted you, Larys, or was it because he insulted Joffrey? You’re Alicent’s man, I’m certain of it now. I have never seen even Laenor react that way at the mention of Joffrey’s name.

The question is have I let on I know?

“Forgive me, Larys, Harwin, but I tire. Birth has me fatigued more often than not. I thank you for your visit though, it is always pleasant to see friends.” The two were quick to nod and make their apologies, seeing the dismissal for what it was. Larys’ left with a thoughtful look on his face but I could not tell, not truly, if he had made me or not. It was hard not to call for Joffrey straight away.

I should be feeling victorious, triumphant, yet all I felt was a bone deep worry. We’d often joked that Alicent’s factor was Joffrey’s ‘friend’ yet… yet Larys had not been able to stop his reaction. If I was right, he’d killed Mushroom not to make himself Alicent’s factor but because he’d insulted Joffrey one too many times. That spoke to obsession.

So I waited, feigning a nap until I was certain that good manners would dictate the Strongs had left and then I summoned Joffrey, Laena and Laenor. They were quick to attend on me, Laenor almost tripping over his own feet as he arrived.

“Are the babes well?” he asked, recovering from his near trip with a distinct lack of grace.

“They are well, there is another issue I wished to discuss.” He sighed in relief and dropped himself into a seat next to the bed. His sister and his lover arrived moments later, carrying a joyful Lucerys between them. The babe was placed into Joffrey’s lap and Laena perched herself on the bed.

“I know who your friend is.” That certainly got their attention. Especially Joffrey’s. He’d been going mad trying to discover just who Alicent was relying on, that I had discovered it quite by accident during a visit from ‘friends’ would drive him up the wall with frustration. “And it’s worse than we thought.”

“Who?” asked Laenor, hand resting on his hip where his blade should be. No swords in the birthing chamber was rule number two after wash your hands in the wash basin provided.

“Larys Strong.” Silence followed that and then Laenor gave a nervous giggle.

“That’s not funny, Rhaenyra,” he said when no one else said anything. Laena was watching me with a thoughtful gaze and Joffrey was staring at the back of Lucerys’ head. I could almost see the cogs of thought turning in his mind.

“It gets worse,” I said and Laenor groaned. “He’s got ideas of something more than friendship in mind. I’d say it’s verging on obsession.”

Laenor spluttered in outrage, shock and dismay. Joffrey’s eyes finally left his son’s head and met mine.

“You’re certain?” he asked. Laena dropped a hand to my leg and squeezed slightly, letting me know she was with me.

“He was very angry about the stories Mushroom told about you. Very angry when his brother implied you were forgettable. He was almost proud when his described your political rise…”

“So, one of my people must have ended up in his care. They speak about me and I attract his attention. He kills Mushroom to become my counterpart-” His lips twisted. “He killed Otto.”

“I wouldn’t go that far!” said Laena. “Alicent wouldn’t kill her own Father, surely?”

“They were struggling for power. Alicent was on the verge of losing everything... He killed Mushroom- oh fuck, he was the one that questioned Otto’s killers. He questioned the merchant.” My musing sent the Velaryon siblings pale with the implications. 

Had Larys killed his own sister by accident?

“So, he ensured the war with Dorne,” said Joffrey. Then he smiled, making my eyebrows rise in surprise. Evidently I wasn’t the only one because he blushed a moment later at the attention he’d garnered from us. “I know who he is now. Now we have an even fight.”


	90. Afterbirth - Chapter 83

In the other room, Jocelyn was wailing again, coaxing her little sister into joining her, and I debated just flinging myself out of the window and ending it all now. Even after moving from the birthing chamber to my own bed the need to keep the babes close meant their late night awakenings still woke me half the time but even if, by some miracle, I slept through them, the maid was quick to summon me. I wish Laena had explained you had to feed them at night too. I don’t know why I assumed you didn’t.

Sleep drifted ever further away and I groaned into my pillow. A rough hand ran over my back as Laenor imitated me, hauling himself upright to stare across the softly lit room at the door that led to the room our children were housed in. He’d sat with me as I’d read to them after their bed time feeding and had stuck around afterwards, banished from his usual sleeping arrangement by Laena pulling rank as Joffrey’s wife. 

We both must have resembled zombies as we ambled into the room our children slept in. I fed Alyssa first, brain taking sometime to properly waken up. By the time she had been safely enclosed back into her tank, I was wide awake. Even more awake when an angry Jocelyn was presented to me.

“Shall we take her with us?” asked Laenor, still half asleep. “Alys might have some chance at sleep then.”

“Sure,” I managed to say through a yawn that ambushed me the moment I opened my mouth.

I took Jocelyn as he climbed back under covers, then positioned her between us. She did not quiet for some time. When she did, it was because she’d fallen back asleep. 

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. I couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face. “Do they cry like this every night?”

“Yes, they do. They’re babies. Mostly for food which is easily dealt with.” I really, really wish Laena had explained you needed to feed them at night. “Sometimes I’ll sit with them and tell them stories.”

“What do you after? I doubt I can sleep now she has woken me,” he asked, voice low.

“You get used to going back to sleep. Or falling asleep in the chair,” I told him, giving his hip a playful shove with my own. He shoved me back with a chuckle. In-between us, Jocelyn fussed momentarily, causing us both to freeze.

“I can take twin duty if you wish to spend time with Laena?” he said finally after we’d relaxed. “It is only fair since I have had a lot of time with Joff lately.”

He did not mention that a lot of their time together had been spent with Lucerys or running errands for Joffrey’s renewed determination to become omniscient or close to it. Knowing who his rival was had lit a fire under him as fierce as any dragon’s breath. He was determined he would not be played in the manner Larys Strong had played him ever again.

I cast those dark thoughts from my mind and burrowed myself into the pillow, trying to chase the sleep Jocelyn had awoken me from.

“I’m fine at the moment. I would be awoken anyway for their feedings.” He laughed at that.

“When will you resume your duties?” he asked after his chuckling had died away.

“When I have healed and dropped some of this weight. Alannys has said I should resume them one at a time and slowly,” I told him.

“I ask because… well, did you wish to join me for riding?”

“Syrax and Seasmoke? I suppose I could.” The prospect was pleasing at least. I was still healing but Alannys had opined that I could resume light exercises with her usual pointed tone. Riding Syrax once more, perhaps some brisk walks around the garden, along with cutting out the more unhealthy parts of my diet that being pregnant had allowed to make it’s way in. My first steps on the way back to fitness.

It was with a brief pang of sadness I resolved to return to my usual fare of chilled fruit in the mornings. No more bacon, sausage or eggs. 

“And your marksmanship. Mother will be eager to start working on how it will translate to dragon back.”

“I am barely skilled with the damn thing on the ground. I do not know what she expects from me atop Syrax,” I complained and he shrugged.

“War with Dorne puts us all in danger,” he said quietly. “I did not see the reason for swords for a very long time. Now I am thankful I started working towards improving my skill long before now.”

“Swords and bows are all very good but how will you protect yourselves from the other dangers the Dornish represent,” I asked, waspishly but genuinely worried.

“Joffrey is vetting servants, food tasters and guards.” Was the quick reply and I smiled. I should have known Joffrey was taking it as hard as I was in his own way. “If any vipers or other desert wildlife tries to appear in my quarters you will find me and my men ready for them.”

At my unconvinced face, he chuckled once more.

“Have Gerardys prepare antidotes to everything he can,” I said. “And then have Joffrey teach your men how to use them.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” His mocking assent got him a raised eyebrow and a sour look. His amused look fell and became serious.

“Do not worry for us, Rhaenyra. We will be atop dragons. We will not die, not when we have been ordered to return whole and healthy by those we love,” he murmured. Not even his assurances would ease the fear in me though. “Now, let us try and sleep. Tomorrow we will ride.”

What had sounded like an excellent idea in the dark of night was less welcome at morn. I was tired and wished nothing more than to return to my bed. I had been roused once more in the night to feed the children and then once just after dawn. As such, I was less appreciative of Laenor’s relentless enthusiasm for our ride. He had even cancelled his training for it.

“It is showing all of King’s Landing that their Princess is hale and healthy after childbirth,” said Rhaenys, who had caught us preparing and invited herself along. My answer was a sour look as I swung myself into the saddle of the horse. It took a little adjusting in how I sat to be comfortable but it was nearly as bad as I feared with the padding Alannys had suggested.

Our early morning ride still attracted attention though. Evidently, I was still in the people of King’s Landing’s good graces as more than a few stopped to cheer and wave as we made our way out the city to where Syrax, Seasmoke and Meleys lay on their stretch of claimed beach. From how the sand had been churned and the fact her gear was missing from the barn that had been raised especially for it’s storage, Laena had gone on a fact finding mission to Dragonstone.

Her request to spend the night with Joffrey had come out of the blue, so to speak. She and I had spent our nights curled up together, simply enjoying the others presence and warmth rather than anything sexual. I had asked if anything was wrong and she assured me there was not, that she simply wished for one of her talks with him. Given that she mainly enjoyed those because she could spill everything she was feeling and not feel judged, I was not assured.

Syrax taking to the air was enough to distract me from my worries at least and I let myself relish in it, pushing her to fly fast and high. We soared over the oceans, danced through the clouds and swooped low over the fields. I may have been laughing with delight for a good portion. I could already feel the burn in certain parts of my body that told me even my brief stay in bed had offended some of the muscles I was used to employing when riding.

It was a good burn though. 

After I’d gotten that out of my system, we both took yet more delight in showing off our aerial manoeuvres to Rhaenys and Meleys, attempting to nip at the older dragons tail as a way of keeping score. Out of the many, many, many tries we both managed it once. I was quite proud of my Syrax as she bought us in for landing, her usual graceful glide managing to keep the spray of sand and dirt to a minimum. Not that Meleys or Seasmoke had gotten the message, their landings tore gouges across the earth and I mentally apologised to whoever actually owned the field we were partially camping on.

Continuing my mission of showing the world I was on my way to recovering from the birth of my children, we put in an appearance at the Red Keep. Not the Keep proper though, the training yards. Rhaenys had something to show us there and from her barely contained excitement I did have to wonder just what it was exactly. Something that got Rhaenys this giddy had to be good.

And I was not disappointed by her happiness because when we made our entrance, still garbed in our riding gear, there was my father. I wanted to laugh in delight at the sight of him, all dressed up in his padding and whacking away at Ser Marbrand with, what seemed to me, little grace or actual skill.

I had not seen him pick up a blade and actually train since before grandfather had died. Even then it had been reluctant, a forced march to the training grounds every morning and then escape at the earliest possible opportunity. I had heard Baelon go so far as to compare him to Vaegon in those days. After Baelon had died… well, mother had tried but he was not to be persuaded often and after Alicent had come on to the scene that was it for his waistline.

“This business with Dorne has one upside,” murmured Rhaenys, a kind of fierce pride in her voice. “It has awoken the dragon in him.”

“I have not seen him with a blade in his hand in a long time,” I told her. She smiled.

“After that attempt on the twins he carried Blackfyre around for days. Word is he was ready to execute Cole with it before the man took the Black.” Again with that fierce pride. “There is the rider of Balerion. Daemon always mocked him but I knew.”

That drew both our gazes from the King to her. She smiled at our interest.

“When he gets over that damnable softness he has, he is a true dragon. You have seen his rages? He mounted the Black Dread. I knew the moment he did Daemon was wrong about him,” she told us. Hadn’t she, not a few months ago, declared him not fit to be king? I was saved from the unwise notion to point this out by her sighing heavily.

“Do not worry, Rhaenyra. I will stay close to him when he marches. A dragon he may be but he is a wingless one. I’ll make sure no ill befalls him,” she promised. “Besides, it is high time he and I put an end to our differences.”

“You’re having differences?” said Laenor. I winced and Rhaenys raised a single eyebrow at my reaction.

“He likes to blame Corlys for all the ills in the world. Likes to blame you and Laena for all Rhaenyra’s ills. He sees our family as eager for power that is not rightly ours. Make no mistake, if those twins had not yet been conceived when Correy made his accusation, Viserys would have used it to remove you from Rhaenyra’s side. He sees you as an extension of your father.” I glanced around anxiously but no one was close, no one could hear her.

Laenor looked thoughtful, his eyes returning to the King as he practised.

“He believes Corlys still seeks the throne,” I admitted. “It was his initial thought to use Lucerys to keep the Velaryons as a whole in line.”

“Then he saw the little bugger and fell half in love with him. Typical Viserys,” chuckled Rhaenys. “Do not worry, son, I shall set him right. I was strong enough to master your father and Rhaenyra is strong enough to master you. He will see that soon enough.”

“I fear it will not be so easy,” I murmured. “He’s had Otto filling his head with nonsense from the moment he was elected Heir.”

She set her jaw as if I had just levelled a challenge at her, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“And now he will have me setting things right.”

I gave in as he noticed us and called a halt to his practise before making his way over. I tried not to feel to guilty as his smile threatened to break his face. Still, better her haranguing him over something than me?

Sorry dad, I tried!


	91. Afterbirth - Chapter 84

Recovering from birth had saved me from the need to openly ‘mourn’ Otto Hightower until long after his body had been sent home to be interred alongside the Hightowers of old. Yet from the moment I began my slow return to politics, I was forced to make a show of it. For all that his death was an inconvenience, I did not grieve for Otto’s death. I only wished that I had not been so foolish and summoned him to King’s Landing in the time frame I had.

His death had sealed the fate of Dorne but my foolishness had allowed him to set in motion the events that spelled it’s doom.

My return to politics coincided with the lords eager for war beginning their mass arrivals in the city and the first of the notable guests was Lord Borros Baratheon. Having finally proved myself fertile -ugh- he was eager to discuss putting the future betrothal between my firstborn son and his daughter. Although, he was happy to inform me, I could choose which daughter. A generous man to a fault that one.

I was not surprised Lady Elenda jabbed him in the ribs before asking after the children.

“Jocelyn,” he said and his voice was mild as if he were forcing what he truly felt from his tone. “Cousin Rhaenys must be thrilled.”

“Mother is in love with both her and Alys,” said Laenor cheerfully. I did not miss the slight tension in his body though as he picked up on what I had. Borros fixed a bland smile into place and quickly handed Jocelyn to his wife. Lady Elenda Baratheon nee Caron was a pretty enough with dark hair and eyes. She was also five years younger than her husband. She was my age and had already had three children. One of which had just turned six.

Ugh.

“Princess Alyssa is quite the beautiful child,” he said, with much more genuine warmth, as he moved to stand over her tank. “I pray she is as beautiful as her Mother one day. I have no doubt she will be the darling of the realm.”

His words were practised and stilted. When he delivered them anyway, Lady Elenda favoured him with an encouraging smile despite Jocelyn’s anger and volume.

“Thank you, Lord Borros,” I replied getting ready to intervene should Jocelyn’s tantrum become too much for Lady Elenda. She didn’t seem to mind so far, she was cradling my screaming daughter with a look of pure amusement on her face.

“I can say with certainty that this one has far too much Baratheon in her,” she finally said, handing her back over. “Cassandra and her sisters were much the same.”

“She only quiets for her grandmother,” I replied and Borros snorted. Besides me, Laenor bristled slightly so I distracted him by handing him his daughter. She did not stop her crying but at the sight of her father she calmed a little.

“If they are anything like my daughters.” There was pride in his voice when he said that, that was surprising. “Then she will be trial until your dying day. Yet she will be worth every headache and argument.”

That’s… incredibly sweet of you Borros. I did not see that coming. Lady Elenda laid a hand on his leg and smiled, earning herself a look of puppy love in return.

“Perhaps our daughters should be friends in the coming years,” I suggested. Borros turned to me and then his wife and then to me again.

“Friends are good, my girls will be fierce friends, but I would prefer your support for my Cassandra instead.” That made me blink in surprise. At my surprise, he flushed and turned to his wife again. She gave him an exasperated look and then sighed.

“I must lay the blame for this squarely on yourself, Your Grace.” For all that she was trying to make a joke of it, there was resentment in her tone. Oh hells, what had I done now? I do not recall making any inflammatory statements about the Stormlands or implying absolute primogeniture would be a thing.

“You have my sincerest apologies, Lady Elenda, but I confess myself unsure of my crime,” I said quickly. Elenda pursed her lips.

“I was three and ten when I gave birth to my Cassandra. I had difficulty conceiving until little Maris came along when I was seven and ten. As you know, I have had Ellyn most recently. I look forward to another. A son, I hope. Yet hearing of your midwives has convinced my great lummox of a husband that he has somehow hurt me! Damaged my ability to bear children!” I’d be willing to bet he had. You have one more daughter to go and then it’s going to be nothing until Olyvar, born seven days after Borros’ death.

“Giving birth so young can damage a woman, yes, and my midwives do not recommend it,” I said slowly. Borros looked downcast and Elenda’s face twisted in annoyance. “But surely your two daughters speak to that harm not being permanent in your case.”

“See! I told you I was fine,” hissed Elenda and Borros blushed before taking her hand. From next to me, Jocelyn’s sobbing quieted completely and I didn’t let out a sigh of relief but it was a near thing.

“I love my wife but it may be I only have daughters. Should that be the case, Cassandra is my right and lawful heir,” he said softly. “I would have you support her. There are numerous cousins to my line that would seek to seize it. There are still houses that quietly claim the Storm King’s blood.”

“I rode to my Cousin’s aid not because she was my cousin but because the law dictates she is the rightful head of House Arryn and her Father’s lawful heir. You need not ask for support that is already given, Lord Borros,” I assured him. He beamed at me and then turned that smile on his wife. Elenda sighed and gave her husband’s hand a squeeze.

“I will give my husband a son, Your Grace, but it does hearten me that should the worst happen, Cassandra would have your support.” You did not care much for your Four Storms in canon, Lady Elenda. In fact, I would warrant you were downright nasty in some cases. Mind you, you were playing damage control I suppose. Aegon III had ascended the throne and you had to ingratiate yourself. He would not have looked kindly on those that condemned his older brother to death.

“Perhaps…” Borros stopped as our eyes turned to him. Then he forged on. “Perhaps we might retain the services of one of these midwives.” 

Elenda’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline and her lips pursed in disapproval. Borros ignored her in favour of directing pleading eyes at me.

“I have no issue with that. We seek to train more on Dragonstone soon enough.” And soon Alannys would be leaving me to educate a further thirty women. Some to the Faith, some to houses already interested…

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said and sat back, studiously ignoring his wife’s outraged look. Then he eyed Laenor, who had been silent throughout our little exchange, cradling the now sleeping Jocelyn. “Heard you’re putting together a strategy to Dornish.”

He spat the word Dornish as if it were some unforgivable curse. I expected Lady Elenda to shoot him that exasperated look once more at his demand but she looked cautiously interested too.

“Indeed. I would see them brought to heel. They have had their way too long.” He was lying, of course, but we had to be seen as in favour of the war now. Too many wanted it, fighting it would not be prudent. Borros nodded.

“Lord Hightower said you were not in favour of it,” he growled, as if it were an accusation of treachery. It probably was in his mind.

“I was not in favour of fighting a burned, half destroyed mess,” I interjected. “Laenor was of a different opinion. Then they made things personal and the argument became moot.”

“Dorne was at it’s weakest after they ran headfirst into the trap at Bloodstone,” said Laenor, a little lamely to my ear but at least he’d picked up on my plan. Borros was certainly examining him with a little more interest now. “I had an idea to break the Greenblood and split Dorne in two. I have been forced to tweak my plan a little in recent months.”

“Humph,” said Borros.

“Lord Otto was keen to hear our advice on how best to tackle the Dornish. He also had the idea to send a fleet to break the Greenblood,” said Elenda and I did not miss the ‘our’ she slipped in there. “My Lord Husband approved of his plan.”

“To send two armies into the Boneway and Prince’s Pass, right where they are strongest?” asked Laenor. “They would bleed us sorely. Luckily, we have something of a trump card up our sleeves.”

“Oh?” asked Elenda, completely forgetting her husband was supposed to be the one more eager for war with Dorne. Marchers, what could you do?

“The Falcons. The army raised and trained to deal with the Mountain Clansman of the Vale. Very good with mountainous terrain, shockingly,” Laenor boasted. “They could do well to disarm much of the traps the Dornish may lay for us. Not to mention using my Father’s fleet and the Redwyne fleet to ferry a third army into Dorne proper and the Lannister fleet to break the Greenblood.”

“Hah! Then their precious mountains are rendered useless and they’re stuck cowering in their deserts,” laughed Borros.

“As we march three armies into Dorne and take everything,” Laenor finished. I remained quiet. I was quite sure that for all Borros liked the plan, he’d like it less when we discussed which army was going where and how we wouldn’t be burning every bit of Dorne that was flammable. I would have to think on how to get him fully on board when the War Council began. He would be an important supporter to the plan that would see Dorne somewhat peaceful over the coming years and not a blood bath trapped in the endless cycle of vengeance.

Perhaps land could be taken from the Dornish. Wyl, perhaps? If anyone not named Wyl could even hold it. The castle itself would need to be raised, loyal Stormlanders shipped in… oh gods, I’m doing it again. Westeros keeps getting to me. I’m going to be a monster by the end of it.

“I confess,” Laenor was saying when I finally finished wrestling with my morals. “That the Falcons may need some outside help to secure the passes. Perhaps men who can buoy their numbers with familiarity to the terrain?”

“My goodfather can provide those,” Borros was quick to reply. “His men often help scour the mountains.”

“A directive of Lord Boremund,” said Lady Elenda. “He wished to deter raiders and another Vulture King.”

“That sounds like Uncle Boremund,” laughed Laenor. “A grim man but practical.”

“Indeed,” said Borros, scowling again.

“Tell me, Lord Borros, how are the Dornish responding to our preparations for war?” I asked and his scowl deepened.

“Raids,” he growled. “They’ve raided near every land they could reach, drove refugees deeper into my lands and filched as much of the winter stores as they could manage.”

Well, shit. The Stormlanders were not likely to accept any plan that did not let them get revenge for that. Was this Aron Dayne’s doing? Or Lord Walter Wyl, eager to provoke war in which his chosen candidate may return?

“When I deployed men to hit them back they pulled into their passes and settled for slaughtering any scout patrols in the area,” he finished. “That’s what they’re like. They hit you at your weakest and then disappear like ghosts when you respond. They lure you into traps, poison your supplies or steal them outright, ambush you in the night. They’ll use every amount of low cunning to bleed you and when you are bled and exhausted, then they face you.”

We remained silent in the face of his hatred.

“Cowards,” growled Elenda. “All of them are cowards. Cravens! Bastards all!”

I caught Laenor’s eye. His face was grave. I had known the Dornish raided… to cause this much destruction and hatred? Borros would require bribery indeed to lend his support to a plan that would see his Marcher Lords excluded from the main fight.

“We shall teach them how true men fight, my Lord and Lady,” Laenor finally said. “By the end, they’ll know their folly.”


	92. Afterbirth - Chapter 85

Viserys’ new exercise regime was already doing wonders for him, I had to admit, as our procession made it’s way towards the docks. His healthy diet, devised by my own Maester Gerardys, and his almost religious fervour when it came to relearning his old skill with the blade had seen him drop the pounds in a drastic way over the past few weeks. The fact that he now wore Blackfyre on his hip and his face bore a permanent almost scowl had him looking like an actual Targaryen King instead of some fat jolly fool.

I was being unfair to him, I mused, he was a competent king. Under his rule the prosperity that had come to Westeros under Jaehaerys had only grown. The smallfolk and the nobles alike were well fond of him and if it wasn’t for the ongoing tension between the Blacks and the Greens I’d say he was quite the successful king. Actually I was being unfair there as well, he’d taken action in this timeline. He’d opened his eyes and he’d taken action. He’d reeled Alicent in, given me the capital, more trust that original Rhaenyra had ever received and was actively stripping the Greens of their power.

He had my back in the way the original Viserys never had his daughter’s. 

I wonder if he saw her as tainted by Daemon? Like he saw Alicent now? When she married him did he give up entirely, decide he’d ride out his last years in blissful ignorance and let his whole horrible family fight it out after he was gone? Did he assume he had more time? Did he seek to raise Jacaerys over Rhaenyra?

Bah, who knew what was going on it that man’s mind at times.

The Arryn ships were already in the bay by the time we had arrayed ourselves to greet the Lady of the Vale. I noted with amusement that Rhea and Torrhen Manderly had positioned themselves close to our party and the Lady of Runestone seemed to be almost giddy with excitement. The war for Dorne had put quite the dampener on her plans for a wedding at Runestone but Viserys had offered the Keep itself for a venue. 

I wished Laenor was here though. Or Laena. My husband was supervising Laena’s armour fitting on Rhaenys’ orders. She’d wriggled out of it several times so far with excuses ranging from Lucerys’ teething to the boy having a slight fever she was worried about. So I was left alone to assess the damage I had done to my relationship with Jeyne while he ensured his idiot sister didn’t get herself killed in Dorne through sheer stubbornness. 

At least Jeyne was the only person of any note arriving today.

I had been informed that even the elderly Rickon Stark would be putting in an appearance, alongside his his brother. They had not arrived yet but I was keen to meet them when I did. Rickon’s loyalty, and by extension Cregan’s, would be worth it’s weight in gold - or rather, worth it’s weight in the locally produced and very affordable glass I would ship into the North in return for their fealty.

Once we managed to get it to stop shattering if you looked at it wrong of course.

I dragged my mind back to the present as a screech echoed out over the assembled nobles and Morghul plunged us all into brief shadow as it circled above us. A smile grew over my face. Helaena’s dragon had indeed grown over the few months she’d spent in the Vale. Gods, it felt like an age since I’d last seen her and yet it had only been four months at the most. I could not wait to show her the twins.

Jeyne was the first off of the ship, her head held high in the face of the assembled nobility that had come to greet her. Followed by the form of what could only be Lord Denys, Jessamyn Redfort and Helaena. My grin became wider as my sister hopped down from the gangplank and stopped to survey as all, looking suddenly nervous. Then her eyes met mine and she beamed.

The Arryn party reached us a moment later and all the proper obeisances were observed with Jeyne greeting Viserys as her King and Liege and presenting his daughter to him. She looked well, she truly did. A few months had seen her sprout up an inch or two - and she was seven now! How could I have forgotten? I must remember to ask her how she liked the book I sent her.

Jeyne was all smiles when she greeted me but I didn’t miss the slight wariness behind her eyes. It was if she expected me to spring an eligible bachelor on her the moment she let her guard down sufficiently. I felt guilty at that. I should have bothered to check with Rhea or someone first. I should have taken her outburst during that meeting oh so long ago as a hint there was still a sore topic there.

“Cousin,” I murmured as she kissed my cheeks in greeting. “I can only apologise once again.”

She paused and then gave me a rueful smile.

“So Lady Royce tells me,” she said finally and I tried not to flinch at the icy tone the word Royce was said in. “I have been informed you did not know of the events Aunt Aemma had to intervene in. She was quite clear about that.”

“I did not. I never would have broached the topic in that manner had I known.”

“But you would have broached it?” I opened my mouth to protest but Jeyne held a hand up. “Let us discuss this later, Cousin, in private. I do believe there is a certain sister of yours waiting to see you again.”

Helaena got halfway through her, by now, well-practised bow before I decided to hell with it and scooped her up into a hug. I didn’t miss Viserys’ broad grin at the sight of her delighted laugh as she buried her face in my collar and squeezed me tight.

“Can I see the babes?” she asked. “I’m their aunt right? I should be able to see them!”

“Of course! You can not hold Alys yet but there is Jocelyn.” She looked puzzled at the idea of not holding Alys but at the idea of seeing them her face cleared again and she beamed.

“We are also looking forward to seeing the babes, Cousin,” said Jeyne and it took me a brief second to realise she was referring to Jess in that we given Jess was currently standing at the back of the crowd looking green.

“You are welcome at the manse any time, Cousin,” I replied as Viserys evidently decided to involve himself in family time and came over to greet join his daughters.

“I see my own daughter does not wish to embrace her father!” He called with fake grief on his features. “Truly, what has this world come to?”

She wriggled from my grasp a moment later and ran at him, picking up quite a bit of speed. He caught her and hauled her into the air, prompting a scream of delight.

“I would speak with you tonight, Rhaenyra,” murmured Jeyne. “I have a tale to tell you.”

Well that was… reassuring. It played on my mind the entire day, lurking constantly in my thoughts as I settled the various Valemen into the Red Keep and took Helaena to see the babes. My sister was somewhat put out that holding Alys was not on the table yet but she had enjoyed chatting to both of them about her various adventures in the Vale and when she’d been on Dragonstone. Jocelyn even got through an hour of story-telling without loudly informing us all of her unhappiness when it came to… well, anything.

“They must be fond of you, little one, they did not cry at all during your visit” I told Helaena as we mounted horses to bear us back to the Keep under the watchful eye of Ser Willis Fell, Ser Steffon elsewhere today. She swelled with obvious pride at that and turned to her own sworn sword.

“Did you hear Byren? I’m going to be the best aunt they have!” she enthused. The Reachman smiled warmly at her, genuine fondness in his gaze.

“I have no doubt you will, Princess,” he said with a smile. Then he, shockingly, directed a smile my way. Huh, maybe the Vale changed him? Now that I think about it, I hadn’t detected a single sneer the entire time he had been in my presence.

“Ser Byren, I am glad to see you well,” I said as we set off. “Was there much trouble on your travels?”

“Not at all, Your Grace. Your Falcons have seen a drop in raids across the Vale, or so Lady Jeyne has informed me. Travel has become almost safe,” he said, then indicated the sword he wore with a smile. “I was rather looking forward to the practise, yet it seems my sword may become rusty yet.”

“I’m told the finest knights come from the Vale, Ser Byren, perhaps you could find one to spar with?” He took my jest in good humour which was a relief.

“I have a found a fair few willing to indulge me, Your Grace,” he admitted.

“Ser Byren is a really good swordsman,” said Helaena, who had been watching our exchange with interest. “He beats loads of people when he’s practising.”

“Of course he is, little one, he is your sworn sword. Do you think we’d give you a terrible one?” She giggled at that and Byren blushed. “Have you kept up with your archery?”

“Yes! Jeyne sent Ser Denys to help me when he was at the Gates of the Moon. Lots of the Falcons are very good archers as well,” she told me, then launched into detailed explanation about what seemed like every bit of practice she’d engaged in. I listened to her speech with a grin on my face that did not fade until Jeyne met us at the Keep and dispatched my talkative sister and her sword to prepare for tonights feast.

I, on the other hand, was invited on a walk around the gardens. Given that Jessamyn Redfort was hovering around in the background looking like she was ready to start a physical fight with me should I say the wrong thing, I was not thrilled with the development. Still the gardens were nice and I had promised myself I’d walk more in an effort to shift some of my baby weight…

“Do you wish for another apology?” I asked when I was certain only Jess could hear us. “Because I will give it freely. I was wrong to address the matter as brusquely as I did in a letter.”

“Yet you think you were right to address the matter at all?” she asked, voice sour.

“It is the succession of the Vale. Without an heir of your body, the moment you die, the Vale will go to war. Ser Arnold has children, there is Joffrey Arryn to consider and now the Gulltown Arryns as well, ennobled once more.” At my reminder she scowled fiercely.

“Lady Royce said she enlightened you as to… the incident your Mother intervened in?” her voice shook and I felt guilty.

“I was given the bare bones of the matter,” I told her. That Willem had tried to force a marriage before any of the Vale lords could intervene and had arranged a secret marriage, all but bodily dragging a six year old to the Sept.

“Bare bones,” she muttered bitterly. “I am surprised she would have the gall…”

“And I am missing something once again,” I said aloud. Jeyne paused and tried to control her expression, closing her eyes and swallowing hard at some memory or reminder. When she opened them again, there were unshed tears there and I winced at the upset I had caused.

Yet no matter how much of an ongoing train wreck this was it was a train wreck I needed to push. Jeyne needed an heir no one could challenge. I could not afford to be drawn into enforcing her will. Not if I had Dorne to think about these days as well.

“She was there,” she hissed. “Lady Royce was there in the Sept. She held me still when the Septon refused to marry us!”

I stared at my cousin in shock and surprise. Jeyne took a deep breath and I was reminded she was not even nineteen yet. A young girl for all that she ruled a kingdom in all but name.

“I do not understand. Rhea co-operated with her father in his plot to have you married?” At my shock Jeyne laughed bitterly and Jessamyn placed a hand on her shoulder. “She hated her father, she certainly was not fond of her brother - why would she…”

“Leniency in her own marriage.” At my look of incomprehension she sniffed and then took a deep breath. “They wanted a babe from her. Daemon did not wish to give it without extracting a high price in turn. She never said what it was but is was something she did not wish to do. Willem said he would speak to their father and win her some time if she helped him marry me. So she did.”

Horror made bile rise to my throat. At my silence, Jeyne rubbed at her shoulders and forged on.

“I used to have nightmares about her hands on my shoulders,” she told me.

“Did she ever apologise?” I asked. Jeyne shook her head.

“We always avoided the topic. I just wanted you to understand… that letter from her it-”

“She means she’s been having nightmares since she got it and I’m bloody furious with you!” Jessamyn finally burst out. I stared in surprise at the girl who always seemed to melt into the background. She met my eyes with a glare, ready to leap to Jeyne’s defence. I opened my mouth but no sound came out.

“I have a man in mind, Rhaenyra,” said Jeyne, finally. “But I would extract a price from you first.”


	93. Afterbirth - Chapter 86

I stared down at my babes. Jocelyn was awake and wriggling about, looking as if she were still deciding on whether she wished to throw a tantrum or not. Alys, on the other hand, was fast asleep. Completely unaware of how special today was. A smile forced it’s way onto my features as I gazed at them. They’d grown so much in the last month since their birth, taking on the look of actual babies.

Guilt rolled inside my guts then as I remembered Jeyne’s request. Jocelyn had been sold to the Reyne’s before her birth and now… now little Alys had her future planned for her as well. She would marry Jeyne’s firstborn son and secure the Vale for another generation. She would give the Arryns what they had been deprived of in Daella; royal blood. 

And if Grover Tully wanted to get into a snit about the matter he could take a long walk off of a short pier. I had waited long enough for his reply to my enquiry about a betrothal. Laenor’s hand found the small of my back as Alannys came forward and lifted the lid from Alys’ tank.

“Which on are you taking?” he asked. I didn’t answer but bent over little Alys and scooped her into my arms. He laughed and retrieved Jocelyn. Happily, Jocelyn’s threatened tantrum was due to a lack of attention because the moment she was picked up and held, her tears melted away. In my arms, Alys shifted in her sleep before her eyes opened. 

“Look!” said Laenor, breaking my moment of adoration. He moved closer. “She’s smiling at me! Is she smiling at me?”

Jocelyn had a beautiful smile. I dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

“Yes, Ser Laenor, she is,” said Alannys. She would be leaving us soon. Off to train the new midwives that were being taught on Dragonstone. My fledgling school needed the prestige of having a teacher who’d attended to royalty. I did not want her to go. “Something tells me she is fond of her Father already!”

“Do you think so?” he asked eagerly and Alannys smiled warmly.

“Oh yes. Look at her smile. She recognises you both now.” Alys made a few grunting sounds and I turned my attention back to her and away from Laenor trying not to weep at a smiling Jocelyn.

“Your father is a silly man, isn’t he? He is! He’s going to spoil you so much! You’ll be spoilt rotten!” Her unfocused eyes roamed about and I frowned despite myself.

“Is something wrong, Your Grace?” asked Alannys, having caught my worry.

“Perhaps I am worrying about nothing but it seems to me Jocelyn tries to make eye contact when she’s held. Alys… does not,” I told her. Alannys hummed thoughtfully.

“It’s possible she’s merely lagging behind her sister a little. She was confined to the incubator after all. I would not worry unless she fails to hit several milestones at the expected times,” she assured me after a while. I glanced up and caught Laenor’s look of concern, then he tried to smile but could quite mask his own worry.

“Now we have her out and about she will catch up to her sister in no time!” he assured me. Then was immediately distracted by a flailing Jocelyn.

“Something tells me they’ll have you wrapped around their fingers before they can walk,” I said dryly. In response, he wiggled his finger at her and she clutched at it. There was a knock at the door and Ser Steffon poked his head in, looking slightly worn out.

“Your Grace, your Father-”

“Is starting a riot with his impatience. I understand. Tell them we shall be down momentarily.” He nodded then paused before leaving entirely.

“It should be noted, Your grace, that Lady Rhaenys is ready to join him?” he told me and I let out a chuckle. Of course. No wonder Ser Steffon looked as if he had been on duty for the past three days with no rest or respite.

“Shall we go and rescue our loyal knight, husband?” I asked and Ser Steffon’s look become one of pleading.

“Oh, it’s the only honourable thing to do in this situation,” he replied and Ser Steffon looked relieved. We followed him out and down the hallways of the manse to the drawing room, packed full of family and friends all eager to see the babes free from their tanks at last.

“Might we present Princess Jocelyn and Princess Alyssa of House Targaryen!” said Laenor, pride evident in his voice. Rhaenys was first up to her son, lifting Jocelyn from his arms. I didn’t have time to analyse just how much she’d melted due to the proximity of a babe named after her mother because my father reached me a moment later, an expectant look on his face and I him take her.

He was gentle, oh so gentle, holding her as if he had spent his entire life holding babes. Then again with five children, he’d had plenty of practise when it came to their care.

“She’s beautiful,” he said as she fussed in his arms and I realised he was close to tears once again. “Little Alyssa. My mother would have been proud. Father would have been… he would have been proud too.”

Tears pricked at my eyes but I was saved from finding any kind of response to that statement by Rhea slamming to a halt beside me and peering intently at Alys’ face before smiling widely at me.

“They’re beautiful, niece.” Behind her, Torrhen Manderly hovered, looking distinctly out of place. Much like Jessamyn Redfort was currently doing from her place beside Jeyne. I caught my cousins eye and motioned her over. She tensed slightly, then forced a smile onto her face and managed to make her drift over look natural.

“Might I introduce you to Alyssa?” I said when she was within speaking distance. Viserys half turned to her and very reluctantly offered the babe. Jeyne took her, accepting some of his pointers of how to hold her and support her head properly and such. She knew that this babe was promised to her as of yet unborn and un-conceived son. I could see her evaluating her, trying to figure out if risking my wrath were worth it.

We were saved from any awkwardness that bought by Helaena seeking us out, evidently not finding much luck when trying to get Jocelyn and loudly demanding to see the baby. I took Alys back and bent down, letting Helaena press forward for her first look at her niece not in her tank.

“She’s small,” she said, wonder filling her voice. Alys fussed against me, little hands coming up to wave around, letting her displeasure be known. “Did I upset her?”

“Not at all! She is overwhelmed. This is her first time outside the tank and there are a lot of people,” I told her softly. “Do you wish to hold her?”

I regretted it the moment I said it of course but Helaena was ever so gentle when she took Alys from me, following all my instructions to the letter. I had feared that she would be jealous and that jealousy would drive her away from my children but judging from the smile on her face when she handed Alys back, I had been wrong to fear that. I rose from my crouch and handed Alys off to an impatient Rhea Royce, who was happy to coo over her to Torrhen.

Then she was retrieved by Rhaenys and swapped for Jocelyn. I managed to reclaim my firstborn eventually and I held her close, laughing quietly at her attempt to root through my clothing. Evidently someone was hungry. It had been a few hours since they had fed, I supposed. Unfortunately, when food was not forthcoming, Jocelyn decided to let us all know and raise quite the ruckus.

The fact that Alys chose to copy her was just icing on the cake and did rather put a dampener on our little gathering. Still, it had served it’s purpose. Alys was out of her tank and everyone who was anyone in our little family had been given the chance to meet them and hold them… and hear them scream for food. If everything went well then in five months time I would present them to the court officially.

I curled Jocelyn close to me at the thought as she wailed unhappily.

Well, we still had Rhea’s wedding to go (and boy did I have mixed feelings about my Aunt at the moment) but new life was new life. After the wedding, the war council would begin in truth. The greatest assembly of Lords since the Great Council all squarely focused on kicking Dorne into the dirt.

Laena helped me get into a position to feed the babes, smiling at my embarrassment as she did so.

“I do not understand why you are so flustered about it all. Did you forget I used to help you bathe?” she chuckled.

“Look, just accept it’s a complex, okay?” I protested. 

That made her laugh even harder and then bring her hand to my cheek and her lips to mine.

“Okay,” she said, slowly, as I realised I’d let an anachronism sneak into my words again. “Yet I have still seen everything long before now. Come now, feed your babes before they rouse the whole of King’s Landing with their cries.” 

She passed Jocelyn over and worked on calming Alys as her twin fed. Thankfully, she kept her eyes mostly averted until it came to swapping twins. I do not understand what embarrassed me so much about the process, it certainly did not embarrass anyone else around me.

“How will you handle feeding them when you become Regent?” she asked, carefully avoiding the topic that she would not be there to help.

“They will be past six months then. Old enough for feeding morning, noon and night with some mush to keep them going throughout the day,” I told her. It had been one of the first things I’d worked out after their birth. I had to balance being taken seriously as a ruler and making sure the kids were okay. Alys detached and gave a contented gurgle, curling her little hand into her swaddling clothes.

“Come, let me help you dress again. Mother and Laenor will be eager to present them with their gifts,” There was a smirk in place as she took the twins from me and handed them off to Laenor, who waited just outside. Then she helped me dress and I noted that she had improved greatly. A far cry from the woman who once managed to literally tie her hand to my back. When I said as much she blushed such a vibrant red that it sent me into hysterics.

They were already in their cribs when we reached the room. Rhaenys stood by Jocelyn with her proffered egg in hand and I took the one I had selected for Alys from Syrax’s clutch. The one Rhaenys cradled was beautiful. A scarlet like Meleys with bronze patterns across it. My own was a pleasing inversion. Forest green with swirls of gold. Together, almost reverentially, we placed the eggs at the girls side.

Jocelyn was quick to focus intently on the new thing she had been presented with, hand wobbling out to touch at it. Rhaenys beamed with pride and pulled her son in for a hug that might have resulted in broken ribs if the air the whooshed from his body was any indication. She done something similar with Laena, I recalled. Here was a woman that was determined to be the world’s best Grandmother to these kids… not that she had any competition, mind you.

That brought another pang of sadness and I missed Aemma Arryn fiercely all over again.

Alys though… she barely seemed interested in her egg. Instead her head had flopped to the side to gaze at the window instead. I swallowed the worry that brought. Alannys had said she might be lagging, it was not a sign something was wrong with her. She was just small. She’d catch up eventually and then I’d likely regret wishing away the days when she was the calmer quieter one.

Laenor pushed my mother’s blanket into my arms and I let my head fall against his shoulder for moment. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, attracting everyone else’s attention to. I did not want to imply… If I was wrong… I gazed at Alys and her continued interest in the window.

“Did I do the right thing?” I asked, staring down at the falcon on the blanket. Whoever had restored it had done an excellent job. Laena placed a gentle hand on my arm.

“Remember, worse matches have been made for worse reasons,” she murmured. “They will understand in time.”

“Thank you,” I replied and placed the blanket in with Alys, arranging it by her feet. Laenor took his old wooden sword and propped it up against Jocelyn’s crib much to his mother’s amusement.

“That old thing!” she cackled, then gazed at the twins in their cribs. “They’re both fighters, Rhaenyra. Do not worry about them so much.”


	94. Afterbirth - Chapter 87

I awoke that morning to Laena curled close around me, her soft snores causing my hair to twitch slightly. Honestly, if she was going to insist on sleeping by my side so often she was going to have to start keeping a chest of spare clothes in here. She could not keep sleeping in her dresses. As much as I wanted to let the moment drag on, stay in that warm embrace for as long as possible, duty called. At my first movement, her arms clenched slightly and I huffed with laughter before trying again. This time she let go and I was able to slip free. I got half way to the door before she sat up, looking puzzled at my absence.

“I have to feed the twins, Laena,” I reminded her. A part of me could not get over my children. Actual children! Twins! Two girls that were mine! I carried them and birthed them and fed them and they were mine. My babies! “Stay and sleep a little longer.”

She groaned and ignored me, swinging herself free over the bedding and padding after me, still looking half asleep.

“I need to attend to Lucerys as well,” she mumbled. Since Alys was finally free of her tank, they’d been put into the same nursery Lucerys had been the sole occupant of until recently. Oh, father had made his hints about how Daeron was oh-so-lonely at the Keep but I couldn’t trust it. I needed to know who had poisoned that bottle, who had killed Alys and killed Sera’s future children, before I could even think about moving something as precious as my babes into that place once more.

Plus this nursery came equipped with one guard dragon. Lucerys’ hatchling should probably be in it’s wicker cage yet when we entered we found it curled by his crib. It’s red eyes rested on us for moment before it dismissed us and went back to sleep.

The room was silent as it’s three, and one dragon, occupants slumbered away and I paused as I reached my two, both half covered by the Arryn blanket, their eggs laid next to them and their hands entwined. In the soft light of the early morning, my heart wanted to break open at the sight of them.

“I told you the babes were worth it,” mumbled Laena, still unable to shake off the raspiness sleep bought to her voice. Her warm arms encircled my shoulders and she dropped a kiss to my cheek, resting her head on my shoulder. “They’re perfect.”

“Of course they are,” I replied and she chuckled fondly before parting from me and waking Lucerys. He didn’t cry, instead he smiled sleepily at his Mother and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘ma-ma’. I wiped the last of the seep from my eyes and retrieved Alys, doing my best to calm her displeasure about being woken so abruptly. Admittedly, Alys wasn’t the one given to wailing at every little discomfort like Jocelyn was. She took her meal quietly enough, which was a relief.

“I wanted to discuss something with you,” said Laena, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. “I do not know if you will approve.”

“What could be so bad that you fret about my reaction?” I asked and she blushed. Worry eased in my gut at that, Laena had a good head for what would have me raging or upset. If the matter was embarrassing to her then it likely wasn’t a huge problem - just personal.

“I lied to you when I said I did not want another babe,” she admitted. I did not laugh in response but it was a close thing, instead I put Alys back in her crib and rocked her back and forth for a while, encouraging the post meal sleepiness to take her back to the land of nod. 

“I know that,” I told her when it seemed she actually wanted a reply. “But I figured you would talk to me in time, when you were ready.”

Jocelyn was even less happy at being awoken than Alys was and it took some persuasion to get her to settle down and actually feed. Laena took the time to marshal her thoughts and put Lucerys back down.

“I have spoken to Joffrey about it and he has agreed-” I froze and stared at her.

“You… what if… Will it be healthy for you to?” I asked finally. I saw the brief look of pain that spasmed over her features at that.

“If your only objection is my health I assure you, I intend to wait. Yet I wanted to let you know… I do want another babe. Joffrey has agreed to be the father.” And I note you neatly sidestepped the issue of if you are even able.

Evidently it was not something she wanted to think about at the moment.

“Laenor will explode at this news,” I told her dryly and she smiled.

“Telling Laenor is Joffrey’s job, not mine.”

“Is it not the wife’s job to help share her husbands burdens?” I teased and she flushed.

“He’s going to be as excitable as when the twins were born,” she said with a dramatic shudder. Then her fond smile became a smirk. “I’d much rather help my Princess with her preparations for today.”

Ah yes. Today.

The day my brothers arrived home.

Red and gold banners, a veritable army of Lannisters and a very excitable pale blue dragon announced the arrival of my baby brother to the capital. Gods, they made for an awe-inspiring sight. Even their guards were armed and armoured with eye-wateringly expensive equipment. Ostentatious did not even begin to describe it.

And they had not come alone.

Arriving with them in a significantly less impressive manner were the Tully’s, red and blue trout banners fluttering in the brisk winter wind alongside the more resplendent Lannisters. Next to me, Helaena was quivering with excitement, her eyes bright. She had missed her brothers, even the horrid Aemond and Daeron did not have the same appeal I had been informed.

I fought a smile as I was reminded of a different arrival - the royal visit the Dragonstone seemed an age ago now. 

I still had Aegon’s picture. I’d ordered it placed in a glass frame to protect it and had it hung in the solar. Not that I got to see it often but it still served as an adequate reminder that Aegon, no matter what he became later, had been a scared child once. And that I had cared for that scared child despite the threat he represented to me.

“Do you think he’ll be happy to be home?” Helaena whispered as she watched the party wind it’s way towards us. The Tully contingent was half the size of the Lannister one and I had to wonder if they hadn’t taken anyone with even a vague claim to the name and golden hair with them for the whole shock and awe process.

It might be worth chatting with Joffrey to see that no one is inexplicably left behind.

“Of course, he’ll be happy. He gets to see his favourite sister again,” I told her and her face lit up into a smile. “Oh, and you I suppose.”

That got her giggling and I distinctly heard Laenor snort in amusement from where he was trying to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. Viserys shot us a raised eyebrow and I controlled my mirth. No doubt he would be thrilled to have all of his children in one place once more. As much as he had been firm in sending my siblings away, it had pained him, no matter what accusations Alicent threw his way.

Although speaking of which, she had been conspicuous in her lateness to this little gathering and given the way she was looking slightly pale…

“Are you well, my Queen?” I asked in a low voice. She frowned, dark eyebrows forming an angry V over her eyes.

“Merely tired. My sleep has been uneasy of late. I thank you for your concern,” she said finally. Viserys caught my eye as if trying to judge if offence had been carried in my words.

“You have seen Mellos? Might I remind you there is still a poisoner on the loose? I would not wish to see you sick or worse.” And I do not want the blame if you drop dead in the middle of court and trust me, if you do I will get the blame.

“Rhaenyra, I am well enough, it is a mere reaction to the bad weather. Should these symptoms persist I will speak to Mellos if that would please you,” she snapped and this time Viserys laid a hand on both our shoulders.

“My daughter is merely concerned for you, my love.” She gave him a queasy smile but nodded and conceded the point. “But truly Rhaenyra, it is not appropriate to push such a thing in public.”

I wanted to protest that it had been genuine worry, if only for my own hide, than a need to show Alicent up but I was distracted by the parties final arrival and two excitable silver haired and violet eyed boys, each eager to greet their father.

And he was eager to greet them! He scooped them both up at once, laughing at their delight. When they’d left, he’d struggled to bend and pick one of them up, so great was his waistline. The fact he was ignoring one great lord and one heir probably did not even occur to him. Although Lord Jason Lannister and Elmo Tully did not seem to mind. Instead they focused preparing their children to meet the King.

“Your Grace,” Lord Jason said, when Viserys had finally dropped his two sons. “Might I introduce my daughters to you?”

Five blonde haired girls ranging from the oldest, Jocasta, at eleven to the youngest, Cerelle, who was only three and looking decidedly unsteady on her feet. Each gave a clearly practised bow and Viserys exclaimed compliments regarding their beauty and grace. Their mother, a Westerling by birth I believe, seemed thrilled at the attention they had garnered from him. No doubt they still sought that elusive royal marriage the Lannisters had been denied again and again. From the swell of Lady Johanna’s belly there would soon be another Lannister on their way. 

I’m sure in canon that she doesn’t birth a son until later on but it seemed Jason Lannister had even less luck with producing a son than Borros did. The Lannisters gave their thanks once again for their invitation to the table, so to speak, concerning the war with Dorne. They assured my father their armies would be ready and at our backs. Then they thanked Viserys once again for the royal fostering and ceded the spotlight to the Tullys.

Elmo, the only son of the frequently ill Lord Grover Tully, was not what I expected when I thought of a Tully. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes were a similar shade, he wasn’t particularly tall or short… in fact if it weren’t for the fact he was in line to inherit the Riverlands he’d be completely unremarkable. Like Lord Jason, he’d brought his children with him. I’d wonder if he were seeking a royal match but my own letters had been completely ignored. The oldest, Kermit, was standing by his father, looking bored and disinterested. The other, Oscar, was safely in the grasp of a nearby maid.

Okay fine, you win. Every time I have to think about the Tullys I get the giggles!

As they greeted the king with yet more platitudes regarding Dorne and their princely fosterling, I decided to watch the reunion between brothers and sister. Aegon was quick to embrace Helaena, pulling her in for a hug. Like his sister, he’d sprouted a few inches. He’d turned nine a few weeks after Helaena had turned seven and I’d had a collection of figurines sent to him. Dragons, of course, they are all he would speak of in his letters.

I noted, as Aegon detached from Helaena and Aemond stepped forward to give his sister a fierce hug, that he wore the dagger I had gifted him so long ago. The one with the dragon hilt with emerald eyes. He caught my gaze and stepped closer. I was relieved to see less fear in his gait now, mostly he just seemed unsure, as if he expected rejection. 

“Aegon! How has the West treated you?” I asked, managing an easy warmth in my voice. He smiled at that.

“Well, sister, the Rock is beautiful!” he said, relaxing a tad until Helaena escaped from Aemond long enough to hiss something into his ear. Aegon blinked and then blushed, stepping forward with his arms out. I swept him into a hug but he was still tense.

So his improvement only went so far. It was a start, something I could build on. All I had to do was maintain a friendly demeanour, play the patient big sister and wait for the ice between us to thaw further. It was somewhat gratifying that whatever Alicent had intended by his squiring in the Westerlands, she had at least paved the way for him to grow from the scared child he had been.

Although given the glare I’m getting from Aemond and the almost possessive way he’s clutching at Helaena, I’m going to say I’ve still got a long way to go with my second brother.


	95. Afterbirth - Chapter 88

“Denys Corbray,” I said. From opposite me, Jeyne nodded stiffly. She was still nervous, I could tell, and my attempts to distract her with gossip were not going well. “How is he related to Gawen?”

“His third son,” she said. “But it is not for his links with his father I chose him.”

“Is it his dashing good looks?” I asked, teasing before I had properly thought the action through. Thankfully she did not take offence, merely puling a face.

“Whilst I am informed buy those with an interest in such things he is quite handsome, I chose him for his friendship with Jon Hardyng,” she said tartly. I scooped up my wine and took a sip as I digested that statement. Jon Hardyng had been Laenor’s Vale fling. The two had exchanged letters for a few months after the fact but even the friendship fizzled out after Joffrey’s return to Laenor’s life.

“He knows about Jess?” I asked and she nodded. 

“He does not mind my lady and I do not mind his knight. He has assured me he is capable of producing heirs. I hope for a relationship similar to your own marriage,” Jeyne said. When I almost choked on my wine her eyes widened. “I meant that we would be friends, I am not implying you to be attracted to women.”

I’d never told her about my interest in Laena. Would she feel betrayed I had not shared it with her? I took a deep breath and laid my glass down on the table opposite us.

“You would not be to far off though,” I told her, blood rushing to my cheeks and heart pounding nervously. Her eyes widened and then she sat forward herself, her glass joining mine a moment later. “For my lover is a woman.”

“Lov- A woman?” she breathed. “For how long? Is this new?”

“Relatively new. She is the only woman I have ever felt this way for.” Jeyne studied me for a second then sat back.

“Well… I did not expect that,” she said finally. “Who?”

“Laena,” I replied. 

“Laenor’s sister? That’s… convenient. Is she… does she like women or just you?” asked Jeyne. I smiled, despite my flushed cheeks.

“She likes women,” I confirmed and Jeyne’s grin widened in response. “But she is taken, cousin.”

“By you!” Jeyne giggled. I struggled not to smile like an idiot as Jeyne collapsed into giggles. Instead, I settled for sipping at my wine to hide my far too pleased expression. We fell into a companionable silence after that, friends once again and rift between us closed. Even her demand of a royal marriage in return for her own marriage no longer rankled. The Vale was a fine a place as any and any son of Jeyne’s would at least be raised properly.

Had I married her to Kermit Tully, or his brother, I fancy Alys would have spent most of her time preventing one disaster or another from setting her husband’s lands on fire.

“What is this?” said my aunt as she stepped into the room. Beside me, Jeyne choked on the sir in surprise. I could feel the sudden tension radiating off her as her breathing picked up slightly. That she had even gone to Runestone after the Siege of the Eyrie when I pushed her to was a miracle.

“A discussion,” I said politely and gestured for Rhea to take a seat on the opposite side of the table. I’d lured her to the manse on the pretext of babes. I had merely failed to mention I would have an accounting from her of the whole marriage business first.

“I see. I believe I know what about. Jeyne told you about the Sept.”

“Of course I did!” Jeyne burst out, fists clenched on the table. “Why did you not!?”

Rhea sighed and dropped into the chair opposite us, looking pale and tired suddenly. Jeyne’s anger seemed to stutter at the sight but it did not die. She clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders although I could see the start of tears forming in her eyes.

“You have to understand,” she said finally. “I… I had no other choice.”

“Then perhaps you could explain your position,” I said, reaching over and squeezing Jeyne’s hand. She spared me a small smile but it was brief and she still looked troubled after. Rhea massaged at her temples before taking a deep breath.

“It was not easy being married to Daemon Targaryen,” she said finally. “He was not a gentle man, or indeed, a kind man. I was not what he envisioned in a bride. He made it clear he’d wished for a Valyrian at the very least. He spoke of you being suitable even then, Rhaenyra. Indeed, he spoke of Laena being more suitable than I.”

That got my heart hammering. 

“My Father granted me a small estate to start my family on. It was poisoned gift, it was understood Daemon would be the lord and master of it, not I. He controlled the purse strings, the servants… everything.” Including you, I did not say. “But soon even the petty victories he won over me entertained him no more. He was beginning to petition his Father to return to King’s Landing. Father was furious that there was no heir on the way - he blamed me, of course.”

Next to me Jeyne shifted uneasily, her hands tangled in her skirts as she pulled nervously at them.

“When Prince Baelon died, Daemon left anyway, no matter how much I bargained and… begged…” She continued after a moment of gathering herself. “Father wanted me to follow him, he demanded I accompany him to the Great Council.”

“But Daemon did not attend the Great Council,” I said, slowly. “He was confined to the capital and even then he managed to raise trouble.”

“Yes, it rather put Father on the back foot,” she chuckled but it was bitter and dark.

“What happened then?” asked Jeyne. 

“Nothing changed for two years and then suddenly, Daemon was brother of the king and, at the time, believed to be his heir. Father was over the moon, of course. Queen Aemma had not had living child since Rhaenyra. He was so sure… that Daemon would be king one day that he began to get greedy.” Both Jeyne and I had scowls at that as she paused to swallow, as if the action were painful. “He began to get greedy. That’s when he began pushing the marriage with Willem.”

“He dismissed my ladies then. Except you,” said Jeyne in a small voice. “I remember that.”

“He should not have done. It tipped your Aunt to something in the works. She had already been pushing for you to be fostered with her. When Yorbert said no and dismissed every lady but me from your service, she wrote to the Faith with her husbands blessing. She gave strict orders that your marriage was to be approved by the crown. The High Septon commanded those in the Vale to refuse to marry you. According to the Septon, your Mother had gone as far as to add threats to her missive.”

I could not imagine my mother, quiet and gentle, angry enough to write threats. To the High Septon no less! Mother had been as devout as the Good Queen. The first thing she had ever read to me was the Seven-pointed Star. Beside me, Jeyne was scrubbing at her face, trying to control her tears.

“Father did not realise what she had done, of course, until that day in the Sept,” she told us. “Willem was so angry…”

“I don’t care about any of that! Why did you agree!?” demanded Jeyne, crying properly now. “You were my last Lady! You were supposed to be my friend!”

Rhea actually flinched before lowering her gaze.

“I was scared. Father was on the verge of having me banished from the Vale, cutting me off entirely from any protection my name gave but for what Daemon was willing to give me,” she said quietly. “Willem promised that would not happen.”

“Bullshit!” She was yelling now, on her feet. I wanted to reach out and calm her but it was not appropriate. “I heard you! You said something about a high price!”

“Daemon’s demands,” muttered Rhea. “He wanted me to… play host to a mistress. To treat her as SHE were my Lady. To play the servant in my own home! He knew not even father would countenance that.”

Jeyne dropped into the chair and glared at her, trembling slightly with the force of her rage.

“So you sacrificed me for your fucking pride,” said Jeyne, bitterly. “You could have borne the humiliation.”

“Could you? He hurt me! He would-” I wanted to vomit as the implications of her words sank in. “Had I bowed to that demand, I… he never would have stopped. It would have always been one thing more. Nothing more than seeing me utterly broken for daring to stand in his way would have satisfied him.”

“You didn’t have to sacrifice me though,” she sniffled. “You could have gone to my aunt. She would have protected us both. You could have taken us there.”

I very much doubt she could have. Yorbert would have raised the Vale for his meal ticket and Rhea… younger Rhea would have been as sheltered as any noble. Add in the Mountain Clans and it was like to be a disaster.

“You were not in danger, I swear. He would have done nothing,” pleaded Rhea. “Willem was not… he was brash, stupid and arrogant beyond measure but he was content with his whores.”

“I still would have been stuck with him!” she argued, voice raising in volume once again. “A man who I did not love, who did not love me… he would have ruled me!”

“The Queen would have stepped in! You would have had Rhaen-”

“And you are making excuses,” Jeyne screamed. Rhea’s teeth snapped shut so hard I heard them clack. “You sold me to him to protect yourself! He would have kept me as Daemon kept you!”

“In that you are wrong,” said Rhea. “He would have been infinitely kinder than Daemon.”

Then she caught my look and sighed, eyes closing once more.

“But you are right. I used the trust you had in me as your lady and led you into a trap you had little chance of escaping. I regretted it the moment I had done it. I told myself he would have done it anyway, that at least you would have me at your side. I told myself it was to save myself, that you would understand one day. I told myself many lies… but they were lies.” She paused for a moment. Jeyne was breathing heavy, tears still trickling down her face. “I was not much older than you and I was scared. I took the easy way out. I have well earned your hate. In truth, I was surprised we even reached the relationship we had before.”

Jeyne crossed her arms and glared out for the window for a while. I didn’t dare break the silence, Jeyne needed to come to her own decision in this. I had already interfered more than was strictly proper.

“It was for the Vale’s sake,” she said finally. “It was easier when you were not there.”

“You are a good woman, Jeyne. Better than I ever could be. I will always be your woman. Be it swords, an ear or advice, I shall give it freely,” she said. “I can only give that and hope that someday, it makes up for what I did.”

There was silence after that, broken only by Jeyne’s hiccoughing sobs. Finally, though, she managed to bring herself back into the room.

“You will remain in King’s Landing,” she said quietly after a few shuddering breaths. “You will look after our interests here.”

Rhea winced and nodded. 

“But… but I would like it much if we were to continue our correspondence.” That brought tears to Rhea’s eyes and she nodded furiously. My cousin turned to me and gave me a weak smile.

“I can not say I am glad for the mess you have stirred up but… perhaps you are right. Perhaps I needed to confront this.” She took another shuddering breath. “Mayhaps it will stop hurting so much. Mayhaps the nightmares will stop…”

“I am sorry,” whispered Rhea. Jeyne stared at her. “Did I ever say that? Words can not convey how sorry I am.”

Jeyne stood suddenly.

“I must go,” she choked out. “Thank you, Rhaenyra… call upon me tomorrow.”

And then she fled and my aunt and I were left alone. Rhea tapped along the armrest for a while and then sighed heavily.

“I gave an accounting,” she said.

“You did not tell me. You should have done,” I replied. I had no right to be bitter, Jeyne was the injured party here and yet… she hadn’t told me.

“I have become quite fond of you. I did not expect that,” she said after a pause. “I expected to find a spoilt princess as bad as the uncle she supposedly slept with. Yet you were just a child.”

I bristled at that and she waved a hand, preventing me from protesting.

“You are a woman grown with babes of her own but when you told me your tale in Runestone… you seemed so young. Then you actually came to look up to me. You wanted advice from me.” She grimaced as if in pain. “I wanted that just a little longer. It was selfish of me but I wanted you to hold me in high esteem a little longer.”

She looked miserable, half slumped over in her chair. My heart ached for all that I knew I should be angry. No, it was not my place to punish her or judge her. I do not know what I would have done in her place.

Jeyne is the one she owes the debt to and if I know Jeyne, she’ll extract a high price in recompense.

“Well, I know now,” I said finally. “Now I believe I promised you a visit with the babes?”

Her startled eyes flickered up to meet mine.

“Truly?” she asked.

“Yes, truly. Although I do hope your brought ear protection. Jocelyn is in fine form today.”


	96. Afterbirth - Chapter 89

Rhea Royce’s wedding was possibly one of the most well-attended ceremonies in recent history, barring my own wedding over two years ago now. Nearly every Lord Paramount in the Seven Kingdoms and their principal bannermen were present. There were a few who did not show. Lord Willum Tyrell had always been prone to sickness and had, predictably, sent a raven to excuse himself from the upcoming War Council. It was muttered in some circles that he was less sickly and more a craven, not wanting to anger vassals far more powerful than himself.

Regardless of the reason, he would not be coming to the capital. Father would have to choose a representative for the Reach. I had no doubt it would be a Hightower of some description, the only question remained who.

The other notable exception was Lord Hagen Greyjoy. No reply had been forthcoming after the ravens were sent with their invitations despite Otto’s certainty they would be willing to use their fleet to raid the Dornish coast. I, myself, doubted he would the pass the opportunity up as well. It did not matter, I very much doubted Rhea wanted him present. I had never met him but I had been told he was unpleasant, even for an Ironborn.

True or not, Rhea was probably better off if he arrived after her marriage.

As to the ceremony itself, lavish was the key word. Viserys had offered to fund the feast and festivities, no doubt causing poor Lord Lyman to begin weeping given the man had been desperately trying to cut expenses to fund the war with Dorne. Father had been insistent though, in his view, Rhea had been given a grand ceremony once before, one I had apparently attended as a newborn babe even, but that had ended in tears and… well, a town on fire. I think this was father’s way of apologising to her. A way of saying that House Targaryen owed her a really, really fancy wedding at least.

“Stop fretting!” snapped one Rhea’s sisters as the Lady of Runestone twisted to look at herself in the mirror once more.

“I am not fretting, merely… checking,” she mumbled back, blushing halfway through as she realised she was indeed fretting. I covered my smile of amusement and made myself look busy by helping her youngest sister arrange the cloak she wore in her colours along her shoulders. I had to admit, her sisters did good work for all that I suspected at least one of their number did not wish this marriage to go ahead. That would be Ysilla, the mother of Rhea’s current Heir Apparent, Gunthor Royce and the future bearer of Lamentation, Willum Royce.

I had no clue who had Lamentation at the moment or even where it was. Although, if I knew my aunt, as like as not it was sealed in a vault in Runestone. Lamentation was a powerful symbol as to the rulership of Runestone, she would not allow anyone but herself to possess it.

Potential family issues aside, Rhea was resplendent. Her dark hair had been combed until it gleamed and plaited into an intricate style she wore as if it were some sort of crown, more regal than Father or Alicent or even both put together. The cloak that laid about her shoulders was no Maiden’s Cloak, for Rhea was not a maiden, but it was beautiful. The rich fabric a deep bronze and looking as if it were liquid metal about her shoulders. Underneath it, Rhea wore a sheer black dress, very much in the Vale style. She had edged it in bronze. These supported stems of yet more bronze, the ends of which had been beaten into the shape of the runes House Royce so prided itself on.

Armour, I realised, she is wearing her own version of the Royce’s famous bronze armour.

In all fairness, I reflected as we accompanied Rhea into the Sept, Torrhen Manderly was every inch the giddy husband-to-be. Right down to the ‘looking sick with nerves’ expression. He was also dressed to the nines in his own house colours, for all that he would soon be Lord Royce. I took my seat next to Laenor as Septon Eustace began his long, droning speech.

I let my attention wander from Eustace’s dry delivery of the traditional marriage ceremony and picked Jeyne out. She was sitting at the front, a man I did not recognise by her side. I suspected he was Denys Corbray solely due to a passing similarity to Ser Jaremy but I could not be sure. Jeyne’s face was a mask, inscrutable from where I was sitting, as she watched the couple recite their vows.

When Rhea and Torrhen finally sealed their union with a kiss, it was the Northern contingent that cheered the loudest, led by a man who could only be Ser Medrick, Torrhen’s older brother and heir to White Harbor. I did not miss the small smile that flickered across Jeyne’s features though. She was not a cruel woman, she could hold a grudge until it died of old age, but she was not a cruel woman.

And if the Gods were kind, Rhea and Jeyne could grow closer now on an even footing, without the spectre of the Sept hanging over both of them.

I joined in the cheering but studied the crowd, picking Gunthor out easily. He could not keep the scowl from his face or keep the resentment from his half-hearted clapping, I noted with some annoyance. He was Gunthor Coldwater in truth, his mother having married out of the family, yet he had styled himself as Gunthor Royce since he had reached his majority with no sign of an heir for Rhea. Rhea had let him because… well, who could have predicted Daemon’s idiocy. 

I did not have much sympathy for his misfortune. He was not even a particularly clever man and, if the canon timeline could taken into account, he would have made a poor Lord of Runestone.

After all, it was sheer luck that Runestone had not been burned around his ears. I say sheer luck because relying on a daughter of Daemon Targaryen for restraint and tact in the face of the murder of the man she had, in all probability, loved was probably not the best strategy. I was not worried he would manage to somehow usurp Rhea by himself but he could be a potent force of disruption in the Vale if someone wished to weaken my allies. 

Perhaps he could be offered a position to prove himself in Dorne, far away from my Aunt as she tried for her babe?

No… no, she’d realise what I was doing straight away. As much as it made my teeth itch, Gunthor was one problem I could not solve without making another one. Namely, Rhea going ballistic at me. I’d already pushed things by spying on Torrhen.

After the ceremony came the feast.

“You look grim, Rhaenyra,” said Laenor in a low voice as I scowled at the stuffed goose one too many times. “Is the food not to your liking?”

The food was fine. Exquisite even, although given the amount Laenor had stuffed his face with, he no doubt knew that.

“I am merely frustrated, husband,” I replied in an almost whisper after checking to see no one was too interested in the Realm’s Delight. The slight stress I put on the word ‘husband’ had him smiling even wider. The man knew well how to bait me, curse him. A toast from Ser Medrick’s table distracted me from the impulse to kick him in the ankle in revenge.

“I wish to secure our support, to ensure our children do not see war. Yet all these oafs wish to speak of is Dorne,” I replied finally. His eyes softened and he laid his knife down to pat the back of my hand.

“We will get there. In a year we have all but annihilated the Greens and gained control of the court. When the war for Dorne is over, we can build upon that foundation,” he said gently.

He sighed when I said nothing, unable to give words to whirl of emotions and fears inside of me.

“We placated Borros, we have the Reynes and the Arryns on our side in no small part to the efforts you have put in recently,” he pointed out. “The Crownland lords are yours and Grover Tully is like to follow if he has any sense in his head.”

“Yet he ignores my overtures and plays host to one of my brothers,” I pointed out.

“It may be the Tullys are not the finest ally anyway. They likely ignored us because they know getting involved will see their lands burn. Either between our army from the Vale or her army from the Westerlands. Yet if we ensure the North is Black, the Riverlands will likely fall in line too,” he began. “The North we can win with our glass and the Westerlands we can hamstring with the Reynes and likely, the Marbrands. It would be every kingdom against, at most, the Reach and Dorne.”

I sighed.

“It seems to good to be true. We only have the Vale and the Reynes for certain. If I never birth a boy or if Alicent plays the marriage game astutely, we could lose our advantage very easily,” I mumbled finally.

“We will deal with challenges as they come,” he said. “Together. All four of us.”

“You are trying to placate me,” I realised and he blushed a little. “And Joffrey put you up to it.”

“Laena, actually,” he replied glibly and received an elbow to the side. “But you are sulking for nothing. Merely speaking to them all will leave an impression of you in their minds. Since Aegon is too young to do the same and Alicent too… guarded, you shouldn’t need to do much.”

“Just mingle, chat them up a bit and make it personal? Could it truly be that simple?” I wondered, spearing a bit of goose and liberally scooping up sauce.

“Mingle,” said Laenor slowly as I chewed. 

“Mix with people,” I said once I’d swallowed. He shook his head, bemused.

“I shall never tire of the things you say sometimes, Rhaenyra,” he said finally, fond smile in place. Then he stopped as if remembering something and leaned in, conspiratorially.

“Did Laena speak to you of her plan?” he asked. “With Joffrey?”

I sighed. He’d managed to go a surprisingly long time without harassing me about it.

“I think it’s delightful,” I said. “A sibling for Lucerys in a year or so. Another potential dragon rider to strengthen House Velaryon.”

Laenor tapped his knife against he face thoughtfully and smeared sauce across his cheek causing me to choke on my wine in amusement.

“A baby Joffrey?” he said finally. “Do you think one of our children might be engaged to his one day?”

I froze half way through putting my wine back down. That had not even crossed my mind. My eyes sought out the back of Laena’s head. She was turned away from me, sitting next to Joffrey, and absorbed in conversation with Lady Elenda. The Lady of the Stormlands was frowning slightly and Joffrey had his arm securely about her waist. The Gods only know what they were discussing.

No, no, a marriage between our children would be too weird.

Besides, as much as Laenor wanted to downplay marriage alliances, they were the best way too make sure you damn well had an alliance. My next son would be Borros’ and my next daughter? Well, it might be worth playing for the North or the Riverlands again at some point.

“We can not afford it,” I mumbled. He pursed his lips and then shrugged.

“Joffrey said something similar.” His tone was slightly sheepish and I smiled despite myself.

“How does Joffrey feel about having another babe with Laena?” He blinked and then caught on a second later.

“He is cautiously excited. He did not expect to love Lucerys with the intensity he does. Did you know Lucerys is saying ‘da-da’ now? He is. Joffrey is over the thrilled. He dragged me into the nursery the other day to show me but…” he hesitated, then took a deep breath and forged on. “There is always the potential that Laena is barren. He does not wish to invest himself in a child that may never come.”

Ah yes. Yet one more reason for Joffrey to keep investigating. I thoroughly intend to make our mystery poisoner drink his own medicine one of these days.


	97. Afterbirth - Chapter 90

After Laenor’s little pep-talk I made my towards the Northern contingent, eager to hint at my future glass production only to find myself utterly waylaid by one Lord Roland Reyne.

“Your Grace,” he said. He was a handsome man with the famous red hair of the Reynes. He had been married by the time my hand was ‘available’ so to speak so I had never had the pleasure of much of his attention before. Now this man’s son would be married to Jocelyn. He would be one of my principal allies in the days to come, I needed to know him. I needed to know which way he would jump or how he would react in certain situations.

But not right now. Right now I wanted to continue my push for more allies with Lord Rickon.

Lord Reyne was not a complete unknown to me, I reflected when he refused to take the hint. His son was called Rolph. The boy had just passed his first name day and had been left in the arms of his mother, a Marbrand by birth, as his father travelled to the capital to join his Liege lord in discussion for the war and to, secretly, sign the betrothal that would see his house secure a royal marriage. Providing something disastrous did not happen Jocelyn’s betrothal would be announced alongside Alys’ on her tenth nameday.

When Rolph was old enough he would squire under Laenor and Lord Roland would pay through his nose for the prestige both that and the marriage would bring his family in turn, if I had anything to do with it. I could not rely on only Velaryon gold to fund my efforts in the Dance should Tyland Lannister make off with the entire treasury again. That had already been proved to me with the burning of Spicetown. Indeed, it was partially rebuilt and Corlys was still having to cut corners and take out loans.

“Lord Roland, how are you finding the feast?” I asked, focusing on him. He gave me a wide smile.

“Well enough, I’ve found myself quite looking forward to weddings recently,” he chuckled and I tried not to twitch at the insinuation. “Joyous occasions. I wish Lady Royce every happiness she can find!”

“I’m sure she appreciates that, my Lord,” I replied, unsure of why he’d actually waylaid me. Gauging my reaction perhaps? Checking to see if the betrothal was still set to be agreed?

“Mind you, Lord Jason’s been enthusiastic about marriage recently as well,” his voice was nearly a growl at that, his cheer false and barely able to mask it. I paused, examining that phrase.

“You believe he expects one in the future?” I asked and the red-headed Lord shrugged.

“You know as little as I do then?” he asked and realisation smacked me in the face.

“Indeed. I would look to the Vale for future weddings. I’m told Lady Jeyne may finally announce she’s picked a suitor she likes the look of,” I told him and he did not manage to mask his look of surprise.

“And here I thought she was bedding every man in the Vale first?” he sneered and my smile became slightly fixed.

“I assure you my cousin is innocent of such accusations. She merely has particular tastes, namely men who will not try and rule her.” Roland scowled.

“No man ought to let a woman rule him.” Then his eyes widened as I frowned. “In marriage, Your Grace. A woman with a title is the ruler of her lands, of course.”

“Indeed,” my tone was chilly and he suddenly looked very on edge. If this was a view he passed onto his son, Laenor would be set to showing him differently from the moment he set foot on Dragonstone. “Have I mentioned that my girls have been presented with dragon eggs? Jocelyn’s is a gift from Lady Rhaenys.”

“Truly, Your Grace? Dragons are a different matter entirely. Dragons rule men.” His excuse did not hide the fact that he looked as if he wanted to dive out of the window over his misstep and my threat. “Ah! I do believe Ser Alastor is attempting to gain my attention.”

I watched as he retreated into a nearby crowd, unsure of who Ser Alastor was or if he were even in the room. Eyes would have to be kept on Roland and his son. I would not marry Jocelyn to a man who thought her beneath him like Lord Roland evidently viewed women. Then I made my way over to the Northern contingent in time to see Bennard and Borros start up an arm wrestling match.

Curious, last I had checked Borros was in a fine temper about the ‘Northern cowards’ refusing to send any real force south, citing issues at the Wall and logistical problems bought about by winter.

“Lord Rickon, it is a pleasure to see you here.” The elderly Lord of Winterfell dragged his eyes from his much younger brother’s display and looked up at me, before giving me a barely respectful bow. I ignored the disrespect and seated myself next to him. Lord Rickon was not a big man in the way his brother was. He was slim and age had only eaten away at his build. He boasted a thick, wiry grey beard and longer hair tied back in a tail of a similar shade. Even his eyes seemed tired as he examined me in the same way I was doing to him.

“Your Grace,” he grunted by way of greeting when he realised I was not going away. “How may I serve you?”

“Perhaps a conversation. I do believe we have never spoken in much depth?”

“Humph, you don’t want to speak with me, you want to gauge how loyal I am to you,” he said. I had expected blunt from this man. He was famous for eschewing Southern politics even in the face of his own brother’s insistence that he should get involved and let the murder of Walton Stark go. There had been five different lords since then and all of them had been angry about the mutineers.

“Then I shall dispense with politeness also. I want your allegiance should anyone threaten my crown and I can provide boons in turn that will aid the North,” I replied, surprised that I was so close to losing my temper with this impolite curmudgeon.

“What boons could a Southern Princess possibly provide? Will you magic away the Winter? Promise to return what is rightfully ours? Or will you use the North as your dumping ground for the unwanted again. Send your criminals and traitors to the North and forget about them as they damage us in turn,” he sneered. “Or will you offer me the hand of one of your daughters for my son? So that you can throw Northern lives onto the blades of those that rise up against you.”

There was a small bubble of silence spreading from us now, even Bennard and Borros had ceased their shenanigans to stare at the elderly Lord of the North and his heated words.

“I am willing to offer more than vague promises,” I said. “I am willing to give glass for glass houses to the North, I am willing to give Northern Lords political appointments and I am willing to support the Wall with food and gold.”

“Hah! Glass houses? You would saddle every house in the North with enough debt to sink them and we do not require your political appointments. Leave, Princess. If you and your brother wish to fight like children over a Throne, the North will not involve itself.”

Angry and embarrassed I left, feeling like a child that had just been given a public dressing down in front of all their peers. I did not need to Northerners anyway. Perhaps I might have better luck with the Greyjoys, who had arrived recently and refused point blank to engage in any politics. Their entire contingent had taken up residence in one of Joffrey’s brothels and refused to leave. I was assured they were making quite the nuisance of themselves there. I got halfway back to the High table when someone caught my arm and pulled me back. Angry, I turned to let them have it only to find myself face to face with Bennard Stark.

“I apologise for my brother, Your Grace. I insist you not come away with the impression that all Starks and Northerners are so impolite,” he said. “Just my brother, I’m afraid. I assure you I am not the old grump he is.”

My eyebrows rose at that and I had to wonder what could create two completely different people. He led me to the dancers, caught me about the waist and managed to lead me through a dance without stepping on my toes, admittedly he lacked the grace Laenor did. As we danced, none paid attention to us. Each were more caught up in their own conversations or partners but he still lowered his voice all the same.

“I am also not as ignorant as he is when it comes to the goings on of Southern politics and families. I have heard rumours that soon the Myrish may not be the only ones producing glass of a sufficient enough quality to be used in the construction of a glass house?” He framed it as a question but I could tell it was more of a statement. “And now that House Manderly has links with you through Lady Rhea Royce, a certain family may be willing to cut the price of such glass for your most loyal subjects.”

“Generous discounts and, perhaps, rich gifts,” I replied and his eyes almost sparkled with delight. “I try to be a very good friend to those loyal, after all.”

“We northerners are fiercely loyal creatures, Your Grace. Fiercely,” he said with a rakish grin and I stiffened as I realised he was flirting with me. The idea of it brought heat to my cheeks. It was pleasing after spending so long feeling like a useless lump, even if Laena was always quick to demonstrate her attraction when I grumbled about it. “But perhaps I can demonstrate our fierceness in solving this issue we have with Dorne?”

“I have no objections to northern allies in the upcoming war but I was under the impression Lord Rickon was struggling to bring his troops south?” At the seemingly innocent question I did not miss his eyebrows draw together in anger.

“Not as much trouble as he makes out. I offered to take a few thousand men, men who wish to go to relieve the burden on their families this winter and my brother denied me the use of his ships, his gold and his guard.” I tried not to look surprised he was even admitting this. That came dangerously close to treason, after all. “Lord Borros has offered to equip us should we join him but I still need gold and ships.”

I let my eyes flicker to the High table where Laenor was sipping at his wine and watching us both, eyes wary. I gave him a smile then tilted my head to the main doors. He caught my message and rose, disappearing from the hall a moment later.

“Ships I can probably manage. Gold is a dicier prospect. Come, let us speak with my husband.”

He was waiting for us in a small alcove, evening light casting him in gold. As we reached him, he caught me by the waist and dropped a kiss to my lips. I did not miss Bennard’s chuckle at the sight. I also did not miss the firm look he directed at the northern lord afterwards.

“Bennard wishes to bring some northern troops south but his brother, awfully rude to me by the way, is denying him access to ships and funding.”

“Indeed, Ser Laenor, your wife hinted you may be able to help with transport?” Bennard said.

“We still have a few cogs we designed to ferry troops back and forth. In truth, our shipyards have been focusing on rebuilding the galleys we lost,” he explained. “Father is eager to have our naval dominance of the Narrow Sea back.”

“If I can get the gold, will you allow us use of the ships?” he asked. Laenor studied him for a moment and then nodded.

“You will not be able to bring a huge amount of troops. A few thousand at most,” he warned him.

“I have about two and half thousand men that will follow me to Dorne. Do not worry, Your Grace, what we lack in numbers we make up for in skill and ferocity.” There was no more flirting in his tone now that Laenor had so obviously marked his territory.

“I have long held Northerners in high esteem, Bennard. I have no doubt you can impress even Lord Borros with your skill.”

“If you can obtain the gold,” Laenor reminded him, hand possessively winding around my waist.

“I’ll work on it, do not worry. With ships and equipment lined up I can get some of my brothers lords well interested,” he told us. Then he smiled widely. “Now, I believe I have to test that Stormlander bastards arm once more! Good day, Your Grace, Ser Laenor.”


	98. Afterbirth - Chapter 91

Laenor insisted on dancing with me for the rest of the feast, something which quite honestly surprised me. He’d never shown a trace of jealousy over me before, not when the River lords had competed for my hand or when Harwin Strong had all but slobbered over me in the same room as him. Yet for some reason Bennard Stark had him all but peeing on me to mark his territory. I knew it was Bennard specifically because every now and again, he would direct a glare over to the Northern contingent.

He knew where my heart lay, so why had this got him up in arms? When I asked him as such he looked extremely disgruntled.

“You were blushing,” he finally muttered when I pushed. “You only blush with Laena and I.”

“So you had to beat you chest like a monkey from Sothorys to warn him off?” I asked, more amused than offended. He flushed at the implication but I felt his hands tighten on my waist. “As I recall this time a year and a half ago you were all for me making new friends.”

“You found a ‘friend’ in Laena,” he whispered directly into my ear causing gooseflesh to rise across my arms. “And you are the mother of my children. A year and a half ago, I did not think that possible.”

“And now you are ready to leap to defend my honour,” I teased. “Be still my beating heart. You realise, of course, he was only doing it in the hopes I’d ply him with ships and gold.”

“He shouldn’t do it at all,” Laenor grumbled but let the matter lie for the rest of the night. Verbally, at least, but he left no man in the hall unaware that any rumours of my availability to other men were just that, rumours. As it turned out, he was not the only Velaryon sibling that had taken notice of Bennard Stark’s flirting.

“Lord Stark’s brother seemed quite taken with you,” Laena observed after the feast. I paused in my attempts to clean myself, dropping the cloth into the basin.

“He was quite the charmer.” Behind me, through the mirror, I saw her frown. “But you may be assured Laenor was quick to warn him off.”

“You were blushing and giggling.” My smile became a smirk as she met my eyes through the mirror.

“Many things make me blush, Laena. Frequently it is you. Are you worried, my love?” At the implication she blushed but her frown did not leave her face. That was not a good sign.

“Worried? Not at all.” Ah, said too firmly and too quickly. I rose and turned to face her. She watched me with wide violet eyes, tracking me as I sat down next to her and brought her fingers to my mouth, laying a kiss over the back of her fingers.

“You know I only have eyes for you. I love you. If you would prefer me not to flirt than I shall cease my flirting,” I told. She looked at her knees and bit her lip. “What is it?”

“Nothing! Well… no, it’s nothing.” When I merely raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “You aren’t… you aren’t doing it to make me jealous, are you?”

What does this girl think of me?

“Of course not. I assure you that whilst I do find your jealousy somewhat pleasing, I would never do it on purpose. I am not given to mind games,” I told her, giving her hand a squeeze. She sighed.

“I did not mean it as an insult-”

“I did not take it as one,” I said far too quickly. She gave me a grimace and I gave in. “Very well. I did but I shall not hold it against you.”

“Please understand, I thought Daemon the dashing prince. I knew he could be thoughtless and, at times, vicious,” she said and I tried my best to hide my surprise. Even with the appalling job I did, she did not notice. She was staring at the wall, a distant look in her eyes. “But he could be spontaneous and romantic. He would quote poetry or tell funny stories. For all you warned me of what he was, I did not see it.”

“He could charm the small clothes from a Septa,” I said and she smiled but there was no joy in it.

“I know you must not believe it but I do know what people are like. I know when people lie. When they are discomforted or afraid-”

“I am aware that you are incredibly observant when you wish to be,” I interrupted, feeling like I needed to point out I did pay attention to her. That I did not believe her to be entirely brainless.

“But I did not see it in him! I did not see his true nature. Had you asked me then if I believed he could burn Spicetown I would have laughed you from the room!” she protested. “I did not see it and I let him…”

She paused then, her violet eyes finding anything in the room but me.

“After Spicetown, after everything he said and everything I was told, I had reason to think over our romance.” I remained silent. I did not think she wanted to hear my opinion on Daemon once more. “You knew him from when he was Commander of the City Watch? From before the Queen’s death?”

“I did,” I said slowly and she nodded.

“You spoke of Mysaria like you knew her?” That took me by surprise but I couldn’t parse the look on her face and she would not face me.

“I knew of her. Mostly from Alicent.” She grimaced at that.

“He truly… forgive me, I know you said he bedded her but… did he truly?” she asked.

“She was taken with him the moment she saw him. Just as he was with her for a while. Yet he bored of her eventually. Just like he bored of many things back then. By the time he became Commander their relationship was almost burnt out,” I told her. 

“That was when he met Mysaria,” she said and it was statement more than a question.

“I believe so. They called him Lord Fleabottom back then. Prince of the City if you were being polite. There was not one brothel or seedy tavern that did not know him.” She had to know this already. She was revisiting old stories and rumours because she was putting something off. But what? “I admit Father was keen I not hear too much of his exploits. Yet I heard enough from Alicent, Otto and Mother to put two and two together.”

“Did you ever meet Mysaria? Could you recognise her if she were described to you?” Laena asked. Now that did surprise me. She caught my look as well because she turned towards me as I struggled to parse her meaning.

“I never met her. I heard her described as the Pale Wyrm but… well, that she is pale and of descent from Lys is the best description I have,” I said when she merely continued staring at me, waiting for an answer. “Laena, what is this about?”

“I think I met her.”

“Mysaria?” In what setting would Laena and Mysaria ever meet unless- “Did you go to some sort of brothel?”

From the colour she turned, my guess was dead on the mark. She caught my hands and pulled me closer.

“I did not mean to! He invited me to see Bloodstone’s sights. He was- we went for a walk on the beach. He said we could get a drink nearby- I did not know!” At her panic, I pulled her close. We stayed like that for a while until I felt some tension leave her body. Then I pulled back.

“Speak. You will not earn my anger. You could not. Not now.” When she looked unconvinced, I added. “I love you.”

“I went to Bloodstone. You know that. I was eager. I would see battle, it was new and exciting. I remembered your warnings though. And Laenor’s. Even Mother’s. I was determined I would not be Father’s weapon against you. That I would not become Daemon’s tool,” she started. “But he was kind. Funny. Charming. He helped me adjust to Bloodstone, he took me flying, pointed out the nicer delicacies. He made it clear he was interested in me. I was interested by that interest, by his intensity.”

“Because he was the first man you’d ever looked at and seen yourself with?” I asked, trying to understand. She shrugged.

“I do not know. I know he is the only man I’ve ever… liked,” she admitted. “But I was still determined! I was still determined I would not. I swore an oath to you and I told myself I would keep it, even if I could not see the monster you portrayed him as.”

“That had to have changed somehow,” I stated, trying to keep my voice level at the reminder of that broken oath. Gods, she was clearly trying to tell me something incredibly personal and here I was on the verge of raging again. 

“We went to a tavern. It was not a tavern. Or maybe it was-” She shook her head. “There was a woman dancing there. Daemon was… openly appreciative of her. She was… pale and Lysene.”

“You think that could have been Mysaria? I was given the believe she stopped dancing the day Daemon took her as a mistress,” I mused. Mysaria was clever, dangerous and ambitious. She did not dance a day longer than she’d needed too. Instead she’d ingratiated herself at Daemon’s side. Rumour had it his men even took orders from her on occasion.

In retrospect, that was probably how Otto’s men died. If they had believed Daemon’s men to be on their side the resulting fight would have ended badly for them. Like a certain future Northern Lord.

“But the description? Pale, Lysene… it could be her,” she insisted.

“I will admit the point. It could be,” I said, giving in. Laena nodded.

“We drank together, Daemon and I. We talked of dragons and flying. Of travel… myths and legends. He…” she paused and took a deep breath. “He bought me dance from her. I think I was drunk enough… I must have been looking too intently. He said it was a jape.”

Anger stole my breath away and judging by the frightened look I got Laena had completely misinterpreted it. She forged onward as if she feared I were moments away from ejecting her from my room.

“He knew. He knew from the moment she approached. Rhaenyra, I think he knew from… from before we left on that walk.” The way she spoke was almost as if she were begging me for something although for what I did not know.

“Of course he knew,” I said, fighting for volume control. “He knew. He played you. That bastard. If I ever see him again I will geld him and make him eat it.”

She hung her head and stared into her lap.

“We argued once. A terrible argument. He was… I drew back. I told him we should not be…” She was on the verge of breakdown again, stopping to gather herself when her voice failed her. “The next day he had her play maid to me. In front of my father!”

“He threatened you?” How could she not have seen everything he was? Then again, was it not like a frog being put to boil? You put a frog in hot water and it will jump out but put a frog in cool water and slowly turn up the heat… 

“He acted like I was over reacting… that it was not a threat. That it was not even he that assigned her to me that day… I fell for it. I thought I knew people. I thought I knew him. I was so, so sure I did.” Her voice was barely a whisper but what she actually wanted to say came across clear as day.

“You think you know me?” She flinched. No rage came to me. That surprised me. The implication I could be half as callous and cruel as him would have sent me spiralling into anger in any normal situation. “Oh Laena…”

She pushed her face into my neck as I pulled her close and gradually, slowly, relaxed as I rubbed comforting circles over her back.

“I do not want to hurt you. Please tell me if I do,” I whispered. “And I will do the same for you. If what we are is to survive, we need to be honest with one another.”

“Honesty,” she whispered to her self.

She was honest about many things that night. By the end of it, I was ready to invent a whole new realm of torture solely to put my Uncle through.


	99. Interlude - Alicent

As she sat alone in her husband’s quarters, she allowed herself time to reflect. Her mistakes and triumphs, she could see everything that had led her to this moment. It was not often she reflected. To look back was to become lost in old fears and losses.

To remember her Father as he was brought grief and relief in equal measure. She hated it. He would have made her a puppet, used her children to further himself… She had not always felt this way about him. Once she had loved him as fiercely as any daughter should love her Father. 

That had changed when he had brought her to the capital with him all those years ago. The Old King, wise even at his advanced age, had feared the influence of Corlys Velaryon. That grasping snake had gotten so close to the Throne - seducing a woman young enough to be his granddaughter in the process… 

Jaehaerys was more cunning by half though. His chosen heir was not the woman Corlys had despoiled but Viserys, son of Baelon, and to make sure that point was hammered home to the Sea Snake he’d invited Father to ensure Viserys would have support beyond the Vale lords.

Even with three dragons to Viserys’ one, Corlys would not be able to seize the Throne with the might of the High Tower at Viserys’ back.

Her Father had bade her to get close to the King; to care for him in his dotage. She had and in turn, Jaehaerys had cared for her. He’d asked how she was, asked after her hobbies and interests and as he’d grown more addled by his illness, even mistaken her for his own daughter.

That was how a father was supposed to be, she had realised then, they were supposed to see you as something more than a mere plaything. More than a tool to advance themselves.

Closeness to the King had bought her into the Targaryen family itself. Hindsight told her that this was what her father had wanted above all. Her Father had been so proud when she had gotten closer still, securing a new place after Jaehaerys had died by the Princess’s side as one of her ladies. 

Rhaenyra had been so small then. So eager to give love and desperate to be loved in return. She had been Aemma’s only child in a decade of marriage, and Father had wanted her close enough to snare Viserys in the event of Aemma’s death even then.

She unclenched her hands as her nails caused pain to bloom across her palms.

How much would have changed if she had just done as Father had asked? If she had not caught the eye of Daemon Targaryen? If she had not fallen under his sway? He had been like a dream then. A dashing prince interested in her. They had ridden together, hunted together and hawked together. He had flattered her, read her poetry and told her the funniest tales.

He had told her she looked almost Valyrian. That he was attracted to her because of that. He flattered her, told her she could almost be Rhaenyra’s mother in truth with how similar they looked at times. He’d told her she could be Jaehaerys’ daughter in truth when she had confessed her deepest desire to him.

She had begged her Father to pursue an annulment for him, begged to be married to him. Her Father had been furious at Daemon’s interference, doing all he could to see Daemon humbled. 

She had gotten angry with him. She had not understood then, not truly, what the prince was. She had been in love and she had wanted to force the matter. She had given herself to him. He had taken her maidenhead. Her most happiest moment. Her life a downward spiral since. She’d peaked at five and ten. The rest seemed like some sort of nightmare. Some sort of punishment.

Experience told her he’d only wanted her for the potential annulment and when that was not forthcoming, he’d become restless. His eye had wandered from her and found a Lysene whore. She, a daughter of the High Tower, usurped by a mere whore!

After he’d killed the men she’d sent to remove the problem, he’d killed her childhood for good measure. He’d revealed it was all lies. He’d called her the plainest of Andals. He’d dismissed her as some empty headed chit. He’d boasted about what he’d done to her Father.

Her Father’s fury could have put Viserys to shame. He’d been on the verge of sending her home when Queen Aemma had died.

Then her shame did not matter because Daemon was gone and she could be made Queen. All she had to do was make Viserys love her. Daemon had given her the tools to do so. She had taken every lesson he’d taught her and brought it to bear on his brother. It was to be her revenge. Daemon would hear of the marriage and know. It had been enough to calm her Father’s fury but not enough regain his trust or earn his pride once again.

He’d told her to stay on her back and produce heirs. Nothing more. Nothing less.

How angry he’d been when she had done all he asked, made herself the puppet he wanted, and Viserys had claimed Rhaenyra as his heir first and foremost despite the son she’d given him. Not as angry as she had been though. She had put aside everything she was, played the good and doting wife, and her son was still being denied his birthright! He would not have set aside a son that the Velaryon bitch had given him. That another Valyrian, another dragon, had given him.

Her son, who should be king, was being set aside for his sister! As if she were a lesser wife than Aemma Arryn. Aemma Arryn who had looked as Andal as she had. As if her son was lesser than Rhaenyra! Hateful, arrogant Rhaenyra!

Rhaenyra who would rather the girl barely three years her senior play at being her mother than the woman who had half raised her! Arrogant, ungrateful…

She took a deep breath.

Rhaenyra was all too happy to be placed before her sons. Oh, Viserys liked to protest she had pushed for Aegon to be made heir and Rhaenyra loved to play the proud older sister but she knew better. Rhaenyra wanted the Throne. She would sooner die than give it up to its rightful occupant.

She was a Usurper in all but name and not even the Seven seemed to want to punish her! Everything seemed to favour her! Viserys was seemingly blind to the Velaryon whore and her bastard spawn. Rhaenyra had somehow persuadedher sword-swallower husband to get her with trueborn children! Somehow getting him to give her twins! It was all so unfair!

Unfair and wrong!

And Viserys acted as if she were in the wrong!? As if, by trying to protect her son’s birthright, she was the villain? He’d locked her up! Like she was some kind of criminal…

Guilt slithered through her veins at that and she fought to control herself once more.

It had been Larys that had saved everything. He had saved her life, her father’s life, her brother’s life and likely her children’s too. The Tears of Lys had been an expensive poison. Completely traceless. It would have been simple to ensure it ended up in Rhaenyra’s juice, no one else drank it when wine was available, and Mellos did not know enough to spot it. No one would have ever known. Just another girl dead in childbirth.

She had forgotten about Rhaenyra’s Maester. Larys had not.

So he’d poured a king’s ransom in gold down a drain and told her not to be so foolish. Rhaenyra’s death would mean nothing if her own came on its heels. She knew he was right. Viserys would see Rhaenys and her children take the throne before Aegon should she be implicated in Rhaenyra’s murder.

He had been right.

She did not know who had killed Alys Strong but when she found them, she would kill them slowly. Was it luck that saw the girl dead on the night she had picked for Rhaenyra to die or had the assassin been seeking to mask one murder with another? Who could have known her intentions beyond her own loyal Greens?

It did not matter. She would have the truth eventually. Larys was a clever man. He would deliver the culprit to her. He said, and she agreed, that her father had been killed by the same conspirator. One eager for war and unwilling to go along with his plans. In the meantime, the rest of the court could wail about the Dornish. She alone would avenge her father.

The slam of a door had her looking up. Her husband stood before her, smiling widely. She returned it with practised ease.

“My Queen,” He said by way of greeting. His happiness lit his entire face up. It was easier to play the loving wife now that he no longer resembled some fat fool in a mock crown. A shame that he insisted he would not grow a beard.

Another testament to a dead woman she would always come second to. Queen Aemma had been well fond of that ridiculous moustache.

“Alicent, are you well?” he asked, concern radiating from him when she did not answer straight away, tongue held still by memories of the past. She blinked the tears from her eyes.

Her father was dead. The child she had so loved had become a hate-filled woman. Her children were all she had left. She would deliver them what was theirs by right.

“I am fine, my love. Merely overwhelmed.” She would honour her Father’s last advice to her. His sacrifice had given her the keys to save herself. She would stay by her husband’s side. She would play the tamed and meek good Queen. She would play nicely with Rhaenyra. 

And in the darkness, Larys and her would rebuild the Greens. They would destroy the Blacks. 

Time was on her side. Her Father’s final gift. Her second chance. She would not waste it.

“I quite understand!” her husband told her, smiling as he took her hand. “But another child? Truly we could not be more blessed!”


	100. Prelude to War - Chapter 92

A babe.

Good gods, she was pregnant again. I should have known making it through an entire meal without her usual sniping was an indication she had something up her sleeve. This was her plan then, the plan the would ensure she would stay by my Father’s side. He would not send her away if she was once again expecting his child. A more selfish part of me was keen to point out that in the future the babe will be one more marriage to secure an alliance for the Greens.

Father beamed at us all and it seemed my siblings were each digesting that news in their own way. Aegon looked cautiously excited, Helaena was frowning as if something had worried her and Aemond was, in typical Aemond fashion, glaring at his shoes.

That was interesting and worrying in equal measure.

Jeyne’s letters had mentioned Helaena’s nightmares a few times during her stay in the Vale of Arryn. Much less than the amount she received after first coming into my care but still undeniably present. Had she seen this babe? Was that why she was worried? As for Aemond, I knew he was not fond of Daeron. Did he perceive this new babe in the same way?

And what did I feel for this babe? Independent of his or her role in Alicent’s scheming? Another sibling, younger than the twins… would he try and insist they get along like he had done Jacaerys and Daeron in the original time line? I put aside the worry in my gut and smiled with joy I did not truly feel.

“A new babe, Father! You both have my congratulations!” I gave Alicent a polite hug and then turned to Viserys and promptly nearly had my ribs broken as he pulled me close.

“I’m glad you’re excited for him,” he muttered into my ear. “You make so proud with your love for your siblings.”

“Him, Father? The babe has not even quickened. It could yet be a girl?” I said, pulling away and trying to hide how good it felt to have his pride. He was so much like the man I remembered from my childhood now. Physically fit and not… wasting away like he had been since his marriage to Alicent and Aegon’s birth.

“A girl or a boy! I care not,” he laughed. 

“I confess that I wish for a girl this time,” said Alicent, smiling fondly at Helaena, who beamed back. Perhaps absence does make the heart grow fonder because I distinctly remember many arguments about archery and me before she left for the Vale.

“You must look after them all in the coming months. They will need their big sister,” Viserys said, catching my arms in his hands. Judging by the dark look that flickered over Alicent’s face briefly, she was not of the same opinion.

“It goes without saying,” I told him, trying to hide my amusement at Helaena’s preening under her mother’s gaze. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra,” Alicent said as Aegon decided he’d had enough of letting me steal his thunder and pressed closer to his mother, looking curious. She let him place a hand on her stomach. Aemond was quick to copy him, looking unconvinced. We watched as Aegon bent low and whispered something only Aemond could hear. Given that whatever it was had Aemond change from unconvinced at the prospect of a new sibling was a good one to determined. It was somewhat adorable to see his little face scrunch up as he nodded.

“Perhaps you can even get her one of those midwives!” Viserys chuckled and Alicent actually twitched. Honestly, I didn’t think people did that. “Maybe the girl that delivered your twins? She knew her stuff.”

“Alannys has returned to Dragonstone, Father,” I told him. I had been sad to see her go but if my newest midwives could boast they had been trained by the woman who delivered Luke and the twins they’d be in a lot higher demand. “We are opening up a small school.”

“Truly?” said Alicent, sneer in place. “I wonder how many would truly want a midwife. We have Maesters for a reason.”

I did not take the bait. Father would likely start sulking if we started bickering at the dinner to announce Alicent’s pregnancy, even if we had gotten through the actual meal without it devolving. Instead, I smiled at her as if she had merely asked the weather or the time.

“A fair few already,” I told her, before turning to my siblings. “And what do you feel about having a new brother or sister?”

“Excited!” said Aegon, pulling away from mis mother’s stomach. “I hope he’s a brother. Then I can teach him and Daeron how to fight.”

“You can teach me how to fight,” sulked Aemond, prompting his brother to thump him in the arm. He raised those sulky eyes to mine. “Will he cry a lot like Daeron?”

“Possibly. Hopefully not as much as Jocelyn.” He tilted his head at that. Aegon and Aemond had yet to meet the twins after all. The prospect should not make me nervous yet it did. They were children, they would not harm them…

“Jocelyn cries all the time,” Helaena informed her brothers. “Except when I’m holding her. She doesn’t even stop crying for Lady Laena!”

I tried my hardest to suppress the chuckle that prompted. Helaena had not realised she was not the twins only Aunt until recently. Since that realisation she was determined to be recognised as the better of the two. She turned those wide violet eyes to me and I rewarded her with a smile of pride. She grinned in response. Hmmm, she was missing a tooth. When had she lost that?

“But I want a sister. Then I can be like Rhaenyra to her!” Awwww, that was genuinely touching in a way. I scooped her close and she giggled as I rearranged her on my knee.

“Will he have to go away like us?” asked Aemond plaintively and Alicent and I both froze at that. “Or will he stay and Daeron get sent away?”

“We did not send you away, Aemond,” said Viserys gently. “It is a fostering. It is too help you learn and grow up.”

“Do you not like Riverrun? I like Casterly Rock. Helaena likes the Gates of the Moon.” It seemed Aegon was becoming something of a peacekeeper. Although I really did not miss the nervous looks Alicent kept shooting Viserys’ way. My bet was on Aemond’s bad behaviour being the result of Alicent winding him up.

Still with everything that had happened since, I truly couldn’t see him blowing up at that if it did come out.

“There aren’t any dragons at Riverrun.” Of course that’s his reason. Then he turned that sulking face to me. “You said I could not have a dragon when I was five. I am six now. Helaena was six when she got Morghul.”

“I said your mother said you could not have a dragon,” I replied, grateful I’d reserved myself a get out all those months ago. A spasm of amusement crossed my father’s face but he hid it with a cough. Alicent did not bother to hide her look of annoyance.

“Can I have a dragon now?” Aemond asked her. She looked to both of us for help and found none before she slumped in defeat and sighed.

“If you father or sister is willing to take you to the drag-”

“I want a a big one,” he demanded, interrupting her.

“No,” Alicent’s reply was fast and final. Unfortunately, Aemond had not got that message.

“Why!? I want a big one like Vhagar! I don’t want a small one like Frost!” He complained, actually stamping his foot. 

“A big dragon would require you going to Dragonstone. It is incredibly dangerous. If you want a dragon, you will have settle for going to the pit and claiming one there,” I told him, backing Alicent up. She shot me a grateful, if puzzled, look.

She should honestly not be that puzzled. The biggest dragon on Dragonstone was Vermithor. I am not letting Aemond Targaryen, potential future war crime extraordinaire, get his hands on the Bronze Fury.

“But I am six,” he argued as if it were the most flawless argument in the world. Alicent raised her eyes to the ceiling and Viserys remembered he was the boys father and that if he did not want a flambéed son, he’d better get involved.

“Your sister and mother are right, Aemond,” he said gently. “If you want a dragon now, you must have one from the pit.”

“And if I want a big dragon?” he asked, frown on his face.

“You must be six and ten.”

“That’s not fair!” shouted Aemond, glaring at his father.

Honestly, it was stroke of genius. There was no way he’d wait that long. He might say he would but give him enough time to see his siblings all mounting their own dragons and him stuck on the ground, I’ll bet he’ll change his tune.

“There is always Dreamfyre, my love,” said Alicent gently.

“No!” cried Helaena and we all turned to look at her. Her eyes flickered to me for a second and I frowned. “Dreamfyre is small!”

That did it, Aemond screwed his face up. Meanwhile, my mind churned. That had to be dream-related right? She’d also looked at me. Was that because she knew I’d know it was dream-related or because the dream had something to do with me?

Or did she just think the damn dragon was bad luck?

“Then I don’t want Dreamfyre,” he decided. “I’ll wait until I’m six and ten and then you have to let me have a big one.”

Alicent shot a smile at her husband for his genius idea. He beamed back and then nodded solemnly at his second son.

“Of course, son. If you wait until you are six and ten, I shall give you everything you need to traverse the Dragonmont,” he said warmly and Aemond nodded. 

“Don’t worry Aemond, if you need to fly I’ll take you,” said Aegon. Generous for a nine year old whose dragon was yet to be able to fly.

“Maybe Rhaenyra can fly us about on Syrax?” suggested Helaena and hopeful stares turned towards me.

“Your sister will be far too busy in the coming weeks,” warned Viserys. “She will be taking the reigns of the capital from me as the war council gets underway.”

Honestly, he makes it sound like he works his arse off every day just to keep the city running. He doesn’t, I should point out. I know he doesn’t because I followed him around for four years. I know how much work he does and I’m willing to bet he’s offloaded even more of it in recent years directly onto poor Lyonel’s back. Still, it was a boon to my cause. Even if I was still refusing point blank to move back to the Keep until I knew who had killed Alys Strong and tried to kill my twins.

“Oh, will you make people complain with forms?” asked Aegon and the question threw me for a loop. It made Viserys roar with laughter though, startling us all.

“She already does! I got her working on that before she had the twins!” he laughed. Even Alicent smiled at that. Her hold on the administration had vanished with Joffrey’s hard work but she was still nominally in charge of it and it did make her life easier on more occasions than not. Having decided that talking about bureaucracy was not for him, Aegon moved back to his Mother and laid a hand on her belly once more.

“Another little sibling for you,” she said gently. “You will look after them, won’t you?”

Aegon nodded solemnly and she smiled at him, pulling him close to her.

“I will mother. Just like I’ll look after my sisters and Aemond and Daeron! And the twins!” he promised, then turned to me and asked. “When can I see the twins? Helaena has seen them.”

“I did not think it prudent to fling them at you before you had settled back in,” I replied before Viserys could. “But you are welcome to visit them anytime you wish.”

Please do not visit them anytime you wish.

“Can we?” he asked his mother, who managed her usual look.

“Of course! I’m sure the twins will be very glad to see you,” she said warmly. She’s getting good at this faking business.

“You’ll have to spend a lot of time with them anyway when the banners are called,” said Father, smiling at the picture of familial bliss we were managing to form.

Wait, what? When he saw our confused faces, he elaborated.

“I’m not bloody well taking my sons into a war zone and neither are the Lannisters or Tullys. They shall stay here with you, Rhaenyra!” he grumbled. “Well minus Helaena of course but I believe Lady Jeyne is staying here for some time anyway.”

They shot excited looks at each other at that and were soon huddled together in the corner, likely gleefully planning to make my life a misery once I was in charge of two of them.

“With Rhaenyra?” asked Alicent, smile sharp and voice pitched low so the children did not hear it. “And where shall I be, husband?”

Heedless of the obvious danger, Viserys smiled at her.

“You shall be getting ready for birth, my love.” She started to relax at that. Unwisely, as it turns out because Viserys had one more clarification to make. “On Dragonstone.”

I decided the kids looked tired and herded them out a few seconds later, keen to avoid whatever argument that would provoke.


	101. Prelude to War - Chapter 93

It was with some amount of relief I finally let myself into the manse. A maid was quick to attend to me, looking harried. I made sure to thank her for her help and slipped her a silver moon for her troubles. A moon was more than any servant had any right to expect, a copper star was more in line for a tip, but I wanted to be seen as generous and very un-betrayable.

Although, I reflected as she led me through the manse, it does beg the question as to why she is so on edge? I could not recall ever seeing any of the staff here so stressed. She showed me to the drawing room and I got my answer. Laena’s armour had evidently arrived and she was making her unhappiness with the fact very clear to anyone within earshot.

“I feel like I can’t move in it!” she complained as her mother fussed over her.

“You can move just fine!” her mother snapped back, fussing over straps and adjusting where the plate sat. “Move your arm up a little!”

Laena caught my eye as she did as she was told, giving me a long suffering look and rolling her eyes as Rhaenys finally noticed my presence.

“Stubborn as a mule!” she said, stepping back from her daughter, who gratefully lowered her arm. “What do you think?”

I bit my lip without meaning too.

Her armour was similar to Laenor’s, inspired by the Valyrian style and embossed with the seahorse of House Velaryon. That combined with her height… Laena was tall for a woman in Westeros. The effect was striking.

“It’s ah..” I swallowed. “You look fine. Very intimidating.”

I think I have a problem when it comes to pretty Velaryons in armour. Gods, she was magnificent.

“She looks better than fine,” he mother said, completely ignoring the look of utter betrayal Laena shot me. “She wears it better than half your Father’s so called knights.”

“All that’s missing is the sword,” I murmured and Laena finally got why I was so intent on her if the blush was anything to go by.

“I think I am a little too old to start learning to use a blade, Rhaenyra,” she stammered, flustered and desperately trying to hide it from her mother.

“Hmmmm, there are many swordsmen that do not start until they are older. I confess your two and twenty would be unusually old but with a good enough tutor you certainly wouldn’t be appalling,” Rhaenys mused.

“I don’t even think it’s necessary. I’m hardly going to be fighting alongside the men,” she insisted.

“But the Dornish do not always fight fair, daughter. What have I always said a dragon’s greatest weakness is?” asked Rhaenys.

“It’s rider,” we both dutifully chorused and she nodded.

“Still, you are right. You need only defend yourself,” she said, smiling broadly at us. “Do you still have the knife I gave you?”

I sensed Laena did not roll her eyes through sheer force of habit but I didn’t miss the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Yes, mother,” she mock sighed, fighting a smile. “Surprisingly enough, I still know how to use it as well.”

“I shall be the judge of that.” Laena’s amused expression became one of worry at her mother’s declaration. 

“Alas, a mother’s duty calls. Have fun Laena!” I laughed, not bothering to hide my own amusement with her predicament. If I stuck around for much longer, I’d probably get roped into those sessions too. I did not want to be awoken before dawn anymore than I already was.

Jocelyn was awake when I stepped into the nursery, babbling away to herself. When she saw me loom over her, she stopped in favour of giving me a broad smile instead. I ran my hands through her black hair and coaxed her into taking her meal after she’d decided she’d much rather attack my braid. 

After, I sat with her for a while in my arms, staring down at her face. She, for her part, seemed quite content to stare up at me, her hand stuffed into her mouth. Then her fist was removed and she smiled up at me, swiping at my face. That caused a smile so broad it hurt my face in response and I caught her small fist in my hand. Predictably, she tried to drag my hand back to her mouth so she could chew on it.

“I love you so much,” I told her. She didn’t understand but I had to say it or else it would swell up inside of me and burn it’s way out eventually. Reluctantly, I placed her back inside the crib and scooped up Alys. She did not smile although she did let out a murmur of protest at being awoken. It did not surprise me she was asleep and I stamped down on the usual worry. 

She reacted well enough when I read to them both in the evening. She was just tired right now.

“Hello!” I said to her brightly. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I know, it’s terrible! You need to eat though. You do!”

I kept up the almost nonsensical babble as she fed and kept her for a little while longer as I had done Jocelyn. Like I had spotted the day she came out of her tank, the maids also reported her being slow to… well, do the normal baby things. Slow to support her own head, slow to develop any upper body strength… the missed and delayed milestones stretched on and on. Laenor was as worried as I was.

What would I do if… if she hit a point where she no longer improved? No, I know what I would do. I would love her and care for her no matter what. What would Westeros do? I would sooner kill Alicent than see her use my own babe against me. I would feed any that mocked her to Syrax.

“My beautiful Alys! My perfect Alys!” I sang as she fussed in my arms. Eventually sleep took her again. They always slept for a while after their feedings. In fact, they were close to making it through the night now. I certainly slept better in any circumstance.

It was sometime later that I left them dozing in the nursery and made my way back down to where the Velaryons had gathered. All wearing armour in some form or another. I actually had to stop and do a double take. Corlys was lightest armoured out of all of them. His usual almost flamboyant sailors garb replaced with mail and a gambeson in his house colours. I might have stared a beat to long… gods, it was easy to see what Rhaenys saw in the man.

Rhaenys herself was every inch the Targaryen Princess in black enamelled armour embossed with the three headed dragon of our House. That did catch me by surprise. The last time I’d seen her resort to Targaryen colours her son had just told her he was gay, her daughter had revealed she was carrying a bastard and I had told her all about those lovely boys Corlys had been keeping in Hull. 

I… I should probably check in on Addam, Alyn and their mother at some point. I have no clue what they’re doing…

“Well,” I said as they turned in varying degrees of surprise. “I feel under dressed.”

That turned surprise into annoyance from Laena, amusement from Corlys and Rhaenys and exasperation from Laenor. He was as handsome as ever in his armour… okay, I really do have a problem.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have you some made up at some point,” Rhaenys promised as I dropped down next to Laena. My lover was doing a remarkable job of appearing very uncomfortable and almost robot-like in her movements. A wicked kind of glee went through me and I decided to have some fun.

“You know, aren’t these things made for comfort and manoeuvrability?” I asked and was rewarded with her jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“Valyrian style is,” said Rhaenys, catching on to my game. Probably because of the smirk I was directing at Laena, who was steadfastly refusing to meet my gaze or acknowledge my presence.

“Laenor can do laps around the garden in it,” I said, to no one in particular. My husband rolled his eyes and shot his sister a sympathetic look. I could just see a frown forming on her face at the angle I was at.

“Hah! When I was your age I could do acrobatics in it!” boasted Rhaenys.

“It’s awkward,” Laena finally said, taking the bait. “You’ll see soon enough!”

“I’m sure I will! Why are you all in armour anyway?” I asked as Laena went back to looking vaguely disgruntled with the world.

“Laena here has never worn it in her life and needs to get used to it. My boy is putting his on in solidarity!” Rhaenys told me. 

“And I’ve been told in under no circumstances is my usual fare acceptable to take to war,” grunted Corlys, fond smile on his face as he gazed at the back of his wife’s head.

“And yourself, Rhaenys?” I asked. She brought a hand up to the breastplate and tapped the dragon.

“New armour,” she said cheerfully. “I’m going to make sure the Dornish know a woman called Rhaenys Targaryen is responsible for their defeat.”

“Mother has been giving her opinion on the strategy I have come up with,” said Laenor as Rhaenys nodded. “It’s been quite helpful in regards to the dragons.”

“I still say we should show them the same treatment the conqueror gave them,” she grumbled. Then she caught my look and smiled. “But I understand your concerns well enough.”

“It’s still a work in progress but we have a rough outline of the strategy we will present to the King. Three armies for three dragon riders. Mother will be staying with your Father in the main army,” he said. “I’ll be with the force that will push through the Boneway until the main force makes for Sunspear then Laena will take my place after her forces push through Prince’s Pass.”

I understood precisely zero of that but Corlys and Rhaenys were beaming with pride so I smiled and nodded along. I think he picked up on my confusion though because he brought his hand over his mouth the fight his amusement.

“See? You need not chase us down on Syrax and smear mercenaries all over the roads,” teased Laena. No nausea troubled me at the memory of those men I’d killed and I felt guilty that I didn’t feel guilty anymore. I had been shocked and horrified when I’d first done it and now… now, all I could see was how necessary the action was.

“Or playing courier and catching a fever,” said Laenor dryly and the realised his mistake a moment later, his eyes going wide.

“A fever? You caught a fever in the Vale?” said Rhaenys, disbelieving. I shot Laenor a glare but he was too busy focusing intently on one of the wall-hangings. “You never told us of this? Was there a plague after all?”

“It was a trifling thing. I was fine afterwards,” I protested only for Rhaenys to rise from her seat and seize my shoulder.

“If we get fevers it’s because they’re dangerous. Or they were caused deliberately. Which one was it?” she asked, not letting me evade eye contact. From just over her shoulder, Laena looked similarly intent. 

“The Maester says it was one of the worst he’d ever seen,” I mumbled in defeat and Rhaenys let go of my shoulder to stalk about the room in some sort of rage. Not that I understood why. She had not been my biggest fan at that point in my life, even Viserys trying to strangle me had not provoked this reaction.

“And you have had no repeat since?” she asked finally.

“None!” I told her. “I have been perfectly healthy except for the birthing sickness.”

“And no one else got ill?” she asked. I frowned at her method of questioning before I realised she was likely trying to convince me I had been poisoned.

“No one else was ill,” I confirmed then cut her off before she could continue. “But Lady Rhea questioned every member of her staff. There was no poisoning attempt.”

“And how do you explain a fever able to take a Targaryen and only a Targaryen!” she shouted and I recoiled back into my seat. She took a deep breath, heedless of her son and husband watching her with wide eyes and continued at a lower volume. “That doesn’t happen, Rhaenyra. Not naturally. How are you so certain?”

Because it was me touching things I should not have been touching was the answer but… well, maybe I could tell her that. Magic was hardly the unknown it was in the canon timeline. After all, everyone but Corlys in this room rode massive fire-breathing dragons. Why should they be surprised at a castle that had ignored erosion for centuries due to runes set into the foundations?

“I… can be relatively certain,” I said slowly and Laenor dropped his head into his hands and groaned in despair.

“I know that tone,” he said when we turned to him in askance. “That’s the tone she uses when she did something she isn’t proud of. When she knows no one will approve.”

“Rhaenyra?” said Laena, turning back to me. “What did you do?”

“I ferried Lady Rhea to Runestone. Gunthor had fouled something up - a property dispute I think - but the point was I had nothing to do for the day so I decided to solve a little mystery,” I explained. “Runestone completely ignores the erosion of the cliffs. If you must know, I did try the less dangerous way to investigate first!”

Laenor gave a disbelieving snort.

“I asked around and I raided the Maester’s library and I discovered a legend that Brandon the Builder had built Runestone,” I started but, surprisingly, it was Laena that interrupted me with excitement in her tone.

“And he weaved spells into the foundations of Winterfell! You saw the same in Runestone?” Our noses were practically touching as she leaned forward, eyes bright.

“Uh… yes, actually,” I replied, trying not to blush in front of Rhaenys. She fell back with a smile. “Anyway, I ended up touching them and it was like… I was suddenly cold. Oh so cold. Then Syrax dived me into the water and that’s when I got the fever.” 

My explanation was finished somewhat lamely as Rhaenys’ eyebrows climbed higher on her face, Corlys looked unconvinced, Laenor looked puzzled and Laena looked excited.

“Runes and magic,” said Rhaenys finally. “Seven help me.”

That was the last she said on the matter bar the occasional suspicious look. We discussed Laenor’s plans some more and Laena manged to gradually relax in her armour even if she did still look miserable as she trailed me back to my room afterwards.

“Still uncomfortable?” I asked with sympathy as she halted in the middle of the room looking like a cat that had been forced to wear socks.

“I can’t imagine ever being comfortable in this,” she whined. “Mother is going to make me wear it until I can walk on my hands in it. I feel ridiculous.”

I hid my amusement at that image behind my hand but she did not notice as she forged onward.

“And she says I must braid my hair! ‘There will be no time to style ringlets in Dorne’” she complained, imitating her mother’s voice. “I do not look good with braided hair, Rhaenyra!”

Then she noticed my evident amusement and sighed, her eyes flickering closed. I took pity on her and raised my hands to her face, drawing her in for a kiss.

“You could look good in rags,” I told her. “The armour and the braid has no complaints from me.”

She leaned against me for a moment and I moved to rest my head in the crook of her neck. Finally she opened her eyes and her face took on a chagrined look.

“I noticed your lack of complaints about the armour,” she said dryly. “In front of mother!”

I snickered in response to her grumbling.

“How about I get you out of that armour?” I murmured, putting as much suggestion as possible into the question. She definitely got the message as she went bright red again. 

“You’re teasing me,” she groused after a moment.

“Not so! The offer in entirely genuine.” For all that I kept my tone light, my heart was trying to beat it’s way out of my chest. It would be another step in our relationship. A big step. She bit her lip in response, blush fading into a pink dusting across high cheekbones.

“Well,” she finally said. “I could do with some help.”


	102. Prelude to War - Chapter 94

I awoke early the next morning before dawn, pleasantly sore and happy beyond measure. I lay there for a moment, bathing in the warmth of Laena’s arms around me. Then the knock that had awoken me sounded again and I was forced to pull myself free. The pre-dawn chill saw me throwing on my precious, looted robe in Velaryon colours. Laena did not stir as I moved about and I did not bother to hide my smile as I arranged the sheets over her. 

The maid outside let me know that the babes required feeding and not even that could dull the satisfaction I felt. Feeding them was easy enough and peaceful enough. Jocelyn seemed as sleepy as I was and Alys was her usual quiet self. Afterwards, I sat with them in the darkness until both had surrendered to sleep and then returned to my own rooms.

Laena awoke as I climbed back into bed.

“Just feeding the twins,” I assured her but I doubt she heard what I said because a moment later she’d pulled me close again and was back in the land of sleep. I took me longer to drift off once more and I could not wait for the day, or night rather, they could sleep right through without needing to be fed. I missed unbroken periods of sleep.

I was still somewhat tired when we finally rode into the Red Keep together. It was unusual for all of us to be in one place since our return to King’s Landing. Corlys and Rhaenys often left to deal with problems arising from the rebuilding of Spicetown but even if construction was running smoothly Rhaenys had lived at High Tide before the birth and Corlys spent most of his time in the Keep or the Docks fulfilling his role as Master of Ships. Joffrey, Laenor, Laena and I had our own business to attend to more often than not as well with Joffrey’s growing power in King’s Landing, Laenor’s training and studies, Laena’s trips to Dragonstone and my own slow return to politics in the Red Keep proper.

We garnered a lot of attention as we cut through the crowds. I think it was Ser Steffon that was the most eye-catching as he strode ahead of us, shoving aside any minor lord or knight that failed to get out of our way fast enough but I knew that I had earned my fair share of startled second glances. My new style was still in service despite dropping a decent amount of the pregnancy weight in the past few months. Yet it wasn’t my figure that was causing the surprise, it was the colour of the clothing I had made especially for today. After all, I had not worn green since long before I was fourteen.

The lords not used to the fast changing allegiances of King’s Landing were no doubt feeling out of their depth. So many had poured into the capital over the last few months, so many drawn by the chance of glory in war or simply still feeling the outrage that Otto had carefully cultivated until it spread through the Seven Kingdoms like an uncontrollable wildfire.

Nobody wanted to risk missing the opening of the spectacle that would be the War Council. This part would be public at least. Father would rant and rail against the Dornish, lay out the reasons they needed to be brought to heel and officially invite those who would be his advisers in the coming months to join him privately. That’s when the fun would really start.

I should not be shocked or surprised that my father, King of parties, feast and tourneys, had managed to create such a spectacle out of a War Council.

As the King’s oldest child and his Heir Apparent, I was given pride of place amongst the Lords Paramount that had arrived. Jeyne sat next to me with Laenor and the Velaryons taking the seats to my other side. I ignored Borros’ somewhat sour looks as he took his place and especially ignored Rickon Stark’s outright hostility. Lord Jason gave me a polite enough smile as did Elmo Tully.

None gave any such comforts to the last of the Lords Paramount to join us. As the Tyrells had declared themselves unable to attend due to their lords sickness, the honour of last to arrive went to Hagen Greyjoy. He was an old man but unlike Rickon Stark, age had not sapped at his physical form. He was tall, broad and looked as capable in a fight as the day he’d first lifted his axe. 

I had to admit, he had not been on my radar for allies. The Ironborn were a law unto themselves, fickle allies that would turn on you the moment you wavered and their practice of thralldom was slavery by any other name. Truly, they disgusted me on so many levels.

Hagen took in our studied indifference to his arrival and smiled, his lips peeling back to reveal black and rotting teeth. I had to force myself not to shudder as he made eye contact with me before he moved away and took his seat with a dark little chuckle. Laenor’s fingers curled into mine and I could see the distaste in his features for all that he fought to disguise it. Corlys and his son saw the Greyjoys as little better than pirates and neither were fond of pirates.

Others began to file in behind us, creating enough noise that I felt brave enough to risk leaning across to whisper in his ear.

“Let’s not court the Greyjoys.” His mouth twitched into a smile and he made a show of leaning into me to reply.

“If I thought you’d go for it, I’d take Seasmoke and burn their islands the moment you were crowned,” he whispered. 

That is very tempting… Oh gods, I am a bad person.

“Let’s not start my reign off with the destruction of an entire culture,” I told him. “It might send a bad message to the rest of my future subjects.”

“You spoil all of my fun,” he sighed and I really, really hoped he was just teasing.

We settled back into our seats as the last of the lords piled in. It was amusing to note the standing room only at the back. Only the truly important lords had been given seats. The rest had been forced to elbow, cajole and bribe their way to the front spots where they could get a good look at the proceedings. Ah, Westeros, I hope I can do something to change you…

The hissing and muttering fell silent as Alicent stepped out and almost seemed to glide to her smaller throne. She’d gone all out, I noted. Her black dress seemed to drink in the light of the throne room and only made the gems she wore, enough to buy a small city, seem all the more magnificent. The dress implied mourning to those not in the know but to those who were… well, it was symbol that we were aligned in this at least. Her lords would note it and my path would become just a little easier. On the flip-side, my dress was a signal to my lords that even if I resented the war with Dorne, they weren’t to make targets of themselves by railing against it.

She took her seat and smiled a practised and very fake smile at those assembled. Yet Alicent, for all she’d decked herself out, was not the main event. The main event was my father.

He strode out, accompanied by Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk Cargyll. I had to hand it to whoever had dressed him because he was resplendent. Gone were the rich fabrics and plush outfits that he went to his parties in. Now he wore full plate, darkened as Rhaenys’ had been and inlaid with rubies that formed the three-headed dragon of our house. His crown, the crown of Jaehaerys I, was in place. It glinted in the light, the different coloured jewels gleaming atop his silver hair. The contrast was pleasing to say the least. As a final touch, Blackfyre was strapped to his side and somehow even his moustache looked less silly as he stood before the Throne and looked over his subjects with a grim face.

“My Lords!” he started and every eye in the room must have been riveted on him. “My Lords, I have called you here today for war!”

Angry muttering broke out at that. Everyone ‘knew’ how the Dornish had slain Alys Strong in a failed poisoning and Otto Hightower in a craven ambush in order to send Westeros to war and save themselves. I had no doubt Otto’s recent rabble rousing had left the events of the Dornish Conquests well in mind for most of those present. I caught plenty of mutterings of the words ‘Wyl’ and ‘Uller’ and even ‘Martell’. ‘Poison’ was another favourite as well.

“We did not choose this war!” he shouted and the room fell silent once more. “We did not! We chose peace. We chose diplomacy. We chose forgiveness. Yet the Dornish threw our magnanimity back at us! Like all their gifts, their offers of friendship were poisoned! They sought to slay my granddaughters in the womb! They slew the daughter of our Lord Hand! They slew my goodfather as he walked peacefully in the gardens!”

That got boos and hisses aplenty as the lords fell under his sway. I had to admit I had only ever seen one other person with the kind of showmanship and gift for speaking and that was Patrek.

“Enough, I say! It is time Dorne was brought to heel!” Cheers of agreement rang out. “It is time they were humbled. Will you be the ones to do it, my Lords? Will you ride with me into the deserts of Dorne and finish what the Conqueror started?”

The answering roar of ascent caused a smile to twitch over his face but he quickly hid it.

“My Lords, I have called and you have answered. How could I fail with the might of you all at my back?” he said, bringing the cheering to an end. “I would ask for my Lords Paramount, my goodbrother Gwayne Hightower, my Small Council and finally, my dragon riders to join me. Everyone else, please enjoy the hospitality of the Red Keep and King’s Landing.”

I really want to know how to make these kinds of speeches and still retain my ability to speak clearly by the end. And he clearly still could speak. He welcomed us all to the Small Council chamber where the usual table had been switched out for one much larger. Once we were all sat and served wine, he began.

“I want plans. No politics. No Blacks vs Greens. I want Dorne delivered to me,” he said, voice stern. “To do this, we need to know everything about the current situation. I know you have already begun making your plans but you will all benefit from the most current information we have. Ser Jaremy, please begin.”

The Vale knight half bowed in his seat, shot a worried glance at Joffrey and the forged onward with his usual slightly off impression of the man that fed him all his information.

“Dorne is currently the weakest it has been since Morion Martell’s disastrous invasion of Westeros,” he began. “Despite Prince Garin’s exile with his supporters there are many houses that still support him quietly. Prince Garin wanted revenge against… uh, well… us for the actions of… Daemon Targaryen. He promised the Lords of Dorne that they would share in that revenge. His main supporter still in Dorne is Lord Walter Wyl but reports state much of the Stony Dornish would rally to him should he make his return.”

He paused to examine how his report was being recieved. Then focused on his papers again, tips of his ears turning red as we scrutinised him.

“That is to say, his main supporters are Houses; Manwoody, Dayne of High Hermitage, Fowler, Blackmont and Yronwood. I believe he has cousins and supporters in Houses Dalt, Uller and Toland but not the support of those Houses,” he continued. “It would have been better for us had Lord Dayne been unable to gather his support so adeptly.”

“Dornish are like that. Always comes up roses for those fuckers,” grunted Borros. “You think you caught them with their pants down and then you find them fucking your wife.”

There was silence as we processed that particular metaphor. Then Father seemed to shake himself out of it and indicated for Jaremy to continue.

“Yes… um. The Princess Aliandra is the only child of Prince Qoren. The Prince was very popular in Dorne as he invested heavily in repairing the damage that King Aegon did after Queen Rhaenys was murdered at the Hellholt. Both Qoren and his brother, Maron, as you know, died in the assault on Bloodstone along with about a thousand men sworn to House Martell.” He turned over a few sheets. “Aliandra enjoys the support of Houses; Dayne of Starfall, Wells, Vaith, Gargarlen, Dalt, Santagar, Toland and Allyrion. The remaining houses have sworn their oaths freely but are cooler in their support. These are Houses; Ladybright, Jordayne, Uller, Drinkwater and Qorgyle.”

“The political machinations of such treacherous and dishonourable people are fascinating, Ser Corbray but what I want to know is what are we facing? How many men do they have?” Lord Jason asked, tenting his fingers. His question seemed to have Borros’ approval as well although not my Father’s judging by his brief look of annoyance, yet Viserys did not interfere. 

Jaremy flicked through his reports and I took the time to steal a covert look at the rest of the Lords Paramount. They would be the deciding votes on which plan we would use in the Conquest. Elmo was nodding along, he was no expert in Dorne and he knew it for the Riverlanders had little reason to ever meet them in battle. Rickon was scowling at us all, I’d warrant he intended to stay silent the entire time and sulk like a child. Jeyne was imitating a statue, alert and barely moving with her face an unreadable mask. Hagen was slumped in his seat, examining us all as if he were a petulant child choosing who to argue with.

“Normally the Dornish can call upon anything from ten thousand to fifteen thousand spears but…” Jaremy hesitated for a moment, turning over yet another page of his report. Then he forged onward. “But it seems there is some sort of ancient treaty signed in Nymeria’s time. They agree to unite in totality in the face of a foreign invader, no matter the current internal politics. Subject to the treaty, I would estimate… perhaps thirty thousand soldiers of any skill.”

I tried not to be surprised at that. It seemed Daeron had not overstated Dornish power in his book. He’d just been fighting everyone in Dorne that could pick up a spear and charge him. 

“A quarter of those will come at you like men. The rest will strike and vanish or act like camp followers then poison you,” grumbled Borros before downing his wine with a gulp. He would be the man to convince. He had liked Laenor’s plan well enough but would he still be in favour when it was revealed his men would be in the secondary force? I doubted it. I knew Wyl was the key to persuading him to go for it but it needed the proper leverage…

“Let ‘em come! We’ll burn their coasts to the bedrock,” boasted Hagen and next to me Jeyne snorted in derision, barely audible over the clamour Hagen’s comment caused.

“We do not need Ironborn to burn them to the bedrock,” said Corlys dryly, earning himself a glare. Nobody missed him taking his wife’s hand then and the implication of his statement. Nor did anyone miss the nasty look on Rhaenys’ face as she studied Lord Greyjoy. It was somewhat reminiscent of a cat observing a particularly stupid mouse. Rhaenys disliked the Ironborn with an intensity that outstripped even her husband and son. Pirates were a sore point for her.

“It works especially well for fleets… as Morion Martell found out,” she said sweetly. Hagen said nothing in response to that but his mouth stretched into a leer he directed straight at the woman who had just threatened to burn his fleet as if that were the sweetest pickup line in existence. Next to me, Laenor shuddered and I noted Laena had done similarly. 

It was also enough for Father to finally step in. His hand slammed into the wood, sending most of us into shock.

“Enough!” he growled. “Ser Jaremy, continue. The next man to interrupt will lose his command position.” And that was that.

The meeting seemed to continue on for hours as Jaremy informed brought us all up to speed on Dorne and what allies it could call on. I was amused to note that the only ally they had claim to of any note were the Triarchy and they weren’t likely to try to interfere, all three cities having descended into the kind of bickering that starts with people being knifed in alleyways and ends with the fielding mercenaries.

Laenor took notes throughout. I’m not sure why, this was all Joffrey’s information after all, he could have gotten access to it at any other point. Worryingly, the only other person who seemed to be taking his own notes was Gwayne Hightower. Would he propose his Father’s old plan? Or did he intend to create his own?

By the time the meeting broke, my skull felt as if it might break open with the force of the headache I’d developed. In truth, I’m glad Laenor had taken the time to brush up on strategy and campaign because too much of that meeting went over my head. All I could do was watch the participants, gauge their motives and make sure they voted for his plan when the time came.

I would not be useless… I would not send those I love into danger they did not need to face because some complete arse with the last name Hightower wanted glory that wasn’t their due.


	103. Prelude to War - Chapter 95

Lucerys’ hatchling whined mournfully from his wicker cage. Although I was honestly surprised anyone had heard him with Jocelyn wailing as she was. I hovered behind the maids anxiously, watching them dress her and Alys in their outfits for todays meeting with Lord Reyne.

“Oh shut up, you silly thing. We’ll let you out to play later!” Laena told her son’s hatchling and the wicker basket rocked alarmingly at her voice and then settled somewhat. She smiled and patted it. “Good boy!”

Then she noted me watching her and smirked.

“Still fretting?” she asked. 

“I don’t even know about what…” I replied, flushing as she came to stand close. The smell of dragon and the sea made my belly turn with nerves of a different kind. She caught my hand gently and held it between us.

“Lord Reyne will love Jocelyn or I will feed him to Vhagar,” she said simply. “And he will agree to your demands or he shall not have his betrothal.”

“You sound like your mother,” I said and she pulled face. Rhaenys had been true to her word and had taken to drilling her daughter with the knife she now carried on her waist.

“That’s just insulting,” she whined. “Take that back or I’ll start waking you up before dawn every morn to put armour on.”

“If you also put it on, I will not complain.” She went red and spluttered at that. “You know, there are worse fates than ending up like your mother. She is, after all, the only one who can get Jocelyn to quiet down reliably.”

As if to prove my point, Jocelyn’s wailing increased in volume and Laena winced.

“Point,” she admitted. Then her face softened. “You jinxed yourself when you joked about having a loud child.”

“Probably,” I replied mournfully. 

“Come! The maids can handle Jocelyn and Alys for a while. Let’s go take Lucerys out to play with Red here.” I bit my lip. The offer was tempting… Then I gave in when she caught me gently by the arm and pulled.

We found Lucerys in the arms of his Uncle. Arms being a… relative term as my husband was tossing him repeatedly into the air much to Lucerys evident delight if the little baby giggles were anything to go by. When he saw us, his face went carefully blank as if he were weighing how fast Seasmoke could go if pursued by Vhagar.

“Ma-ma!” cried Lucerys happily and Laena’s stony expression gave way to affection as she handed me the wicker cage containing the hatchling and recovered her son from Laenor’s arms. I caught his eye and smirked, enjoying the blush that caused.

“Joffrey said to entertain him,” he complained when Laena swept past him with a final disapproving look. I adjusted my hold on the cage and gestured for him to follow me as I hurried to catch up with her. He did as told, taking the cage from me in the process. “I was also asked to discover what you ordered from Myr and whether Joffrey needs to hide the expense.”

“Why would he need to hide it? Anyway, you may inform him it is a gift for his nameday and he is not to go intercepting it,” I ordered and Laenor chuckled. From over Laena’s shoulder, Lucerys waved at us and we dutifully waved back.

“A gift from the Glassworks in Myr, what could it be?” he wondered. “A far-eye?”

“Close but no,” I replied.

“Also I might point out his nameday has been and gone. We bought him the new walking stick, remember?” he said as the hatchling scented fresh air and began scrabbling around in it’s cage in excitement.

“I want to give one of my friends a gift! Must there be an excuse?” He snorted at that but let it lie as we reached Laena arranging her son on the bench. She took the cage from her brother and quickly had the hatchling out. Lucerys watched, enraptured, as his dragon launched itself from the top of the cage and did a few circuits of the garden.

“It won’t be long before we can not keep him here,” said Laena sadly. We had nearly another month of safety where he absolutely would not start breathing fire but as we reached the sixth month of his life… well, we needed him gone before he set the manse on fire. The beach where the Black dragons found their rest would be as fine a place as any to put him.

The presence of the bigger dragons would drive away anything foolish enough to try and predate on him. Not that there were many creatures that could mess with even a baby dragon once it was capable of breathing fire. Most of said creatures were unlikely to be found in the Crownlands as well but you never knew. Dragons did not naturally group together in the wild. They set up their hunting ranges, mated during the summer years, raised their children until they were capable of breathing fire and then went back to their solitary lives.

How we Valyrians had changed them, even the dragon pit dragons yet to be claimed were more likely to group together. Another thing for Laena to research, I think.

“You will have to name him before he goes,” said Laenor and Laena grimaced.

“I know, but mother is being troublesome about what precisely we should name him,” she groused. “She wants to do as many have and name him for a Valyrian deity. She has her heart set on Urrax.”

“The Valyrian God of Destruction,” I murmured. Truly not the greatest name for a dragon. Especially since there was a historical Urrax that was famous for being slain.

“Quite. You can see why I’m not convinced,” she sighed. “What do you think?”

I mulled it over as Lucerys clapped happily from his bench. So happily, in fact, that he nearly toppled himself from it after losing his balance. Laenor was quick to catch him though, no doubt trying convince his sister he was responsible enough to catch his nephew reliably.

“Come on, Luke, it wasn’t that scary,” chuckled Laenor as his face crumpled unhappily at the shock. The hatchling fluttered down the bench and perched on it, examining the human it had hatched for with a critical eye. The red hatchling.

I couldn’t help it, I started laughing.

“And what is so funny?” asked Laena, sounding a tad offended when I bent double at the waist, overcome with giggles. Oh, it was not funny but how had I missed it? A Luke with an awkward evil father reveal in his future? One that rode a red dragon? 

“Nothing. I just remembered a tale and how the hero is so similar to Luke,” I giggled once I’d recovered enough to speak. Laena frowned at me and the pouted, her gaze finding her son again as Laenor lifted him up for a closer look at his dragon.

“Is it at least a good tale?” she asked.

“I certainly enjoyed it. The parallels are striking though. Luke Skywalker and your Luke, both with father issues and both associated with red mounts,” I told her. I had only ever told Helaena the Star Wars story. She had loved it, if I recalled. Attempts to get her hair styled like Princess Leia had been a bust from the start though.

Laena shifted uncomfortably at the word ‘father’ but otherwise didn’t answer me, looking thoughtful.

“Skywalker,” she said finally. “It’s a good name.”

“Certainly an evocative one,” I murmured as the hatchling began flapping around the garden once more, making Lucerys screech loudly in response. I winced at the noise. Next to me, Laena followed the hatchling’s movements before smiling to herself.

“Skywalker. A better name than Urrax, don’t you think?” It was with sinking dread in my stomach that I turned to her. Oh, I know that look. That is the look of Laena deciding on something. 

I should have kept my big mouth shut.

-

“Your Grace, might I say once again how honoured I am to be invited to visit the children before their debut.” It seemed Lord Roland was back in fine form and eager to ignore his little slip up he’d made at Rhea’s wedding feast.

“It is I who is honoured to receive a visit from such a prestigious lord as yourself,” I lied. He smiled and the accepted some wine from one of the servants. His smile was nervous though, I could tell. The Velaryon family had mustered in force for this meeting. Rhaenys was cradling Jocelyn, Corlys was holding her twin and both had managed smiles that promised pain should any harm come to their granddaughters.

Laenor was tapping out a discordant beat on the hilt of his blade and Joffrey was matching him on the silver head of his walking stick. Laena for her part was sat in between her husband and brother, making eye contact and smiling benignly. No doubt Lord Roland had not forgotten the fact she had the biggest dragon in existence.

“Your daughters are very beautiful, Your Grace,” he said warmly and I think he was being genuine. His acting wasn’t nearly as good as the usual inhabitants of the court.

“Thank you, Lord Reyne. Shall we get down to business?” The lord nodded quickly and Joffrey moved his hand, indicating for his scribe to begin taking notes.

“I’ll be quite clear with you, Lord Roland. Lord Jason Lannister has allied himself with Queen Alicent in her attempts to usurp my rightful place as my Father’s Heir,” I started.

“The Lannisters are ever eager for more power. They do not understand there are things money can not by,” he told me, nodding sagely. “But I suspected something of the sort when young Prince Aegon fostered with him.”

“Prince Aegon was sent from the court after his mother had him half-frightened of his own shadow,” growled Corlys. “The fostering was to buy off a rich family that had been snubbed for marriage again.”

“And the marriage they’re getting in turn?” asked Lord Roland triumphantly.

“I knew it! I knew she’d marry Aegon to them,” said Rhaenys, disturbing Jocelyn’s sleep and making her grumble with unhappiness. “Who is it? The Jocasta girl?”

Roland shook his head.

“My friend in the Rock says it is not. He also says it isn’t Aegon, for all that Lady Jocasta and he are friends.” I caught Joffrey’s eye and noted the almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulder in response. Evidently his work in Lannisport was limited to only Lannisport so far. Casterly Rock was likely a tough place to get spies into.

“Aemond?” I asked. 

“No. There are rumours about that boy. No, it’s Daeron they seek to marry to Jason’s get. Prince Daeron to little Cerelle,” he explained. Rhaenys snorted and went about calming the fussing Jocelyn.

“Concerning but not too unexpected,” I said finally, after some thought. “I require a check on their power, however. A way to remind them where their loyalties lie.”

“And you turn to Lann’s bastard line,” said Roland with a smile.

“Your family have often been in opposition with the Lannisters. You are the second most powerful family in the Westerlands. Have I looked to the wrong people?” His answering smile was fierce.

“Not at all. If Lord Jason can not remember his oaths then we Reyne’s shall prove ourselves his betters,” he boasted. “What do you require?”

“We require a pledge of your support to begin with. A guarantee it will me you support should Alicent attempt her usurpation.” Lord Roland nodded along. I gathered myself for the next bit. It left a terrible taste in my mouth but it had to be done. “And, once I take the throne either in peace or war, I would require a loan of sorts. I have many projects planned and all will require gold.”

The Reynes were not nearly as rich as Casterly Rock. Whilst the mines that had propelled them to the Lannisters strongest bannermen had long since dried up there were a dozen more minor mines, mostly of silver, to be found on their lands and nearly all lords of Castamere had the financial acumen to turn that silver into gold. Wealthy enough to give me the money I needed but not so wealthy that they could afford to write that debt off.

If the Dance kicked off, they’d have to throw themselves behind me or ruin their house immeasurably. He knew it as well. I could see him thinking it over, wondering suddenly if all this were worth it. Then he smiled.

“I would be happy to provide a loan to House Targaryen upon your ascension to the throne. With reasonable interest, of course, and a set repayment plan!” Next to me, Laenor smiled. Sorting the amount, repayment and interest would be his wheelhouse.

“I understand that such a request is daunting,” I said. “So I would offer your son a position of squire with my husband when he is of age. It would be nice if Jocelyn and Rolph could get to know each other as they grow up.”

Roland’s eyes gleamed. A royal betrothal and a place as a squire for the future most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms was no small prize. Yet the money… the money would be the sticking point. 

“Perhaps I could be as bold as to request another boon from Your Grace,” he finally said. “A place on the Small Council, perhaps?”

That could be done. Lord Reyne was good with money, if no other position was available he could be made Master of Coin. Should a financial genius come along, he could be given the title of adviser. I would have to make a show of actually listening to his opinions but I could do that.

“That would be agree-”

“And such a guarantee for my son when he becomes Lord of Castamere, as well?” Less agreeable but I needed that money. Behind me I heard Rhaenys snort but she did not interrupt. No doubt she disapproved. Then again, she had wanted Jocelyn for my eventual son and Alys for Lucerys.

And that was not happening. No way. Not in a million years.

“Of course! He would be my goodson, I would greatly value any advice he could give!” Laenor’s fingers wrapped around mine and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Then let us speak more of this loan, Your Grace!”


	104. Prelude to War - Chapter 96

“I am told Your Grace was a fierce supporter of my rights.” The statement out of nowhere had me turning in surprise to find myself face to face with a woman I had never seen before. She was not pretty and the Riverlander style she wore was ill-fitting and spoke of strained finances. “I can not thank you enough.”

“You are quite welcome,” I said, searching my memory for the identity of the woman before me. It took the man who joined her to be wearing Blackwood colours for it to click in my mind. “I trust the matters regarding your Father’s estate have been resolved now?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I’m told the King made a definitive ruling after I was able to present some letters my father had written to a friend,” she explained. “I am now Lady Harlsbury of Harlsbury Hall.”

“And your cousin?” I asked. She smiled and it was not a nice smile.

“I’m told he has been ordered to leave Stone Hedge and return to his goodfather’s lands. Even House Bracken acknowledge I am my father’s rightful heir now.” The wicked smile on her face told me she did not intend to let the matter rest when it came to her cousin. Ah well, Lady Harlsbury could go back to being a Tully problem and they could deal with whatever shit she starts.

“Justice has been done then, my Lady,” I said and her nasty smile only widened.

“Indeed. Justice has been done, Your Grace.” Her husband’s smile came to match hers as he wound his arms about her shoulders. “But I fear I sought you out with an ulterior motive.”

“Oh? Do tell!” She turned to her husband.

“My cousin, Samwell, asks to see you… if Your Grace would honour him with a visit,” her husband interjected. Samwell was sweet but entirely too hot-headed. He’d gotten into his canon duel with Amos Bracken over the prospect of my hand but honestly, I had not encouraged either of them. More Bracken vs Blackwood bullshit. Bullshit that would end with Stone Hedge being sacked in the Dance.

Poor Amos. He was as sweet as Samwell but both had been indoctrinated early to their families ongoing generations long feud and not even the encouragement of a Princess would change their minds. The sad thing is they’d probably be friends if it weren’t for their unfortunate last names. I sense the only way to stop the Blackwood and Bracken fighting is removing one family from the Riverlands entirely.

Regardless of the dicey politics associating with either side comes with, the Blackwoods and the Brackens are some of Lord Grover Tully’s most powerful bannermen and securing their good will could be the final piece in lighting a fire beneath his behind when it comes to getting him off that damnable fence. Honestly, I was not unsympathetic to his plight. His lands were likely to be burned in whatever war was to come so he had to think long and carefully on who he would burn for and who was more likely to help him rebuild in the aftermath.

Did he honestly think for a second Alicent would reward him with gold and men to fix his broken lands if she won?

“I would honoured to invite him to see my newborn girls,” I said with a warmth I actually felt. “He has a new sister himself, does he not? Alysanne, named for my own great grandmother.”

Nameless Blackwood Cousin nodded, a smile breaking out over his face.

“Near four years now, Your Grace, and as bright as the sun,” he boasted.

“Perhaps one day young Alysanne may join my daughters as friends,” I suggested and the look in his eye suggested that the offer would be relayed to Lord Robert, Samwell’s father, with as much haste as seemly.

“Perhaps, Your Grace,” Lady Harlsbury said. “But I must unfortunately steal my husband away from you now. We have a prior appointment. Please accept my thanks once again.”

“It is no problem, my Lady. Enjoy your day.” I watched as the disappeared into the crowd and kept a frown from my face. If young Alysanne was to be accepted into the twins’ household when she was older I would need a Bracken to balance it all out. My girls would be princesses and the inevitable squabbling would teach them skills they would need later in life.

I spent an hour or so more at court but all I found were questions about Dorne, subtle offers of betrothals, less subtle offers of betrothals and the usual peacocks that wished to catch the eye of their betters. I made my way back to the manse, Ser Steffon behind me as always. My faithful shadow.

Laena was there and, much to my delight, so were my ladies, minus Sera Strong.

“Your Grace,” greeted Falena as I lowered myself into the seat beside her. “We were discussing our new schedule. Sera thinks we should be on hand for the children as well.” 

They had people for that but I could understand the sentiment. My ladies had loved Lucerys and they would no doubt love Jocelyn and Alys even more fiercely, even if it was because one of their own had been taken in an attempt on their lives. Although…

“Where is Sera now?” I asked as Laena poured me a glass of wine and passed it over.

“Sitting with the babes,” said Maris. “Ser Harwin has informed me she has not been sleeping well recently. Laena suggested she might like to have some peace and quiet with them.”

“With Jocelyn?” I asked, sending Marya and Laena into giggles. Maris merely smiled and shrugged. Perhaps I overstated Jocelyn’s loudness, she had certainly cut back on the screaming lately. It did not mean the Nursery was any less peaceful. Lucerys had started crawling and the little bugger could certainly pick up speed. Revenge, no doubt, for the initial grief after we had removed Skywalker from the house.

Yes, I still hate myself for opening my mouth about Star Wars.

“I admit that might not have been the best part of her plan,” said Maris.

“She needed it though,” said Falena quietly. “She looks… she is not taking Alys’ death as well as she pretends.”

We all became somewhat solemn at that. Sera liked to put forward a strong front but I knew she could not be doing as well as she pretended. This was merely confirmation.

“I do not know what I can do,” I replied. “Ordering her from my service will do more harm than good, I fear.”

“All we can do is be there for her,” said Laena and Marya nodded.

“And be there for you, Rhaenyra,” added Marya. I smiled at her.

“I thank you all. You have been very good to me, all of you.” We ended up toasting to my ladies a few times after that as we unwound. Maris was quick to retrieve one of the many decks of cards she must keep on her person at all times.

She had amassed quite the empire in recent months. Gambling dens, Joffrey’s brothels and normal taverns. She was chief information gatherer now. All of that was passed on to Joffrey who sorted through it and prepared a report. Everything she gathered just hammered home one depressing point. I had erred when I allowed Otto free reign in the capital. He had outplayed me so successfully I could scarcely believe he had managed it.

He had arrived, scared up outrage at Dorne, started planning for a war, pulled in the Marcher Lords as support and set a fire that still burned even after his death. Larys’ likely assassination of him was just hastening what was already set in stone. In doing so, in ensuring a war, the world would have his oyster.

Assassinate loyal Black lords, Dornish. Any of the current dragon riders fall in battle or to ambush, Dornish. Rebels keep the courts attention focused on them, that’s the Dornish for you.

And all the while my support would bleed, his own support would be reinforced and by the end of a long and bloody war, he would have reset the board with him as the chess master and leader of the Greens.

Gods, I had been a fucking fool to assume I could beat Otto Fucking Hightower at his own game.

I do wonder if Larys killed him on Alicent’s orders or his own initiative. I had wondered if he had poisoned my wine on Otto’s orders but Larys killing Otto nixed that idea. Alicent had clearly not done it but would he truly be so calm and composed had he been responsible for accidentally killing his own sister? No. I could not believe that. For all that he was shifty and devious, he was not a monster. 

“You are brooding again,” said Laena, her cheeks aglow with wine. It set the rest of my ladies giggling.

“When does she not?” asked Falena. “I swear she broods more than Maris cheats at cards.”

“Then she does not brood at all!” Maris laughed and earned a chuckle from me.

“One day, Maris, one day I shall learn how you do it!” vowed Laena which set her laughing even harder.

“You should tell me how,” came Sera’s voice from the doorway. She did not look well, that was my first thought. Pale with sunken eyes but she was trying for a smile so I made room next to me and handed her my glass of wine.

“I do not cheat!” Maris protested, handing out cards once more. “You are merely bad at cards.”

“Am I bad at cards, Maris?” I asked. “Remember, I am your Princess.”

She pursed her lips and made a show at thinking before smirking slightly.

“You are the worst of the lot, Princess, because you never play.” True. I hate losing. I refuse to play until I know how she cheats.

“Do not worry, Rhaenyra, I will tell you when I have discovered her secrets,” said Laena and for a moment, I could almost believe she had said those exact words to Alys once. I could see she had the same thought because she paused, wine halfway to her lips, and blinked furiously. Maris watched us as we fell silent, missing Alys dearly, and nodded to herself.

“Alright, it’ll come out eventually so I’ll ask you now,” she said, causing Sera’s head to whip round and a smile to grow on her face. “I have a suitor.”

“Oh?” I asked as my ladies leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Maris flushed.

“Tell us everything, Maris,” said Falena dryly then she cast a small look at Laena, whose ears went red. “You know we dislike it when one of our number holds back on the details.”

They were never going to forgive her for not revealing her non-existent love affair with Joffrey before they were both ‘caught’.

“Well, important things first,” she said. “It’s all very proper. My suitor has asked me to marry him.”

My ladies gasped in delighted shock and Maris blushed under their attention. 

“It is… should my Princess give her assent… I would become Lady Strong.” Of course. Oh Harwin, you soppy old fool. No doubt he cares not if her name and family is in disgrace, if there is no dowry to be paid or if she is barren. I can just see him now, declaring his love for her and vowing to fight everyone if it means marrying her. 

My ladies exploded into questions for her as I made my decision. I would speak with Jeyne, to see if we couldn’t come up with a tempting dowry between us and should the worst come to pass… well, I would be Queen some day. I could legitimise any of his bastards with Maris’ permission.

“We have known each other through the twins for some time,” Maris explained. “After Alys died, Harwin and I began speaking regularly… and well, he began bringing me flowers and asking after me-”

“That’s when I realised. He wouldn’t shut up about her!” Sera interjected, sending Maris even redder, were that possible. “He kept asking me about what she liked and whether she ever mentioned him-”

A gentle shove ended her teasing but Maris had a broad, pleased smile in place. I tried to wrap my head around such a pairing. Maris may be acidic and rude at times but she was smart and cunning, how could she put up with Harwin? Harwin who seemed content to prattle on about whatever he was thinking about in the moment?

“His proposal is very recent, I might add, but should you give your assent-”

“Of course I will!” I said, a tad too fast. “If you wish to marry him, marry him. My only demand is that you invite me!”

I was startled to see a tear leak from her eye at that. Around me, my ladies were chattering excitedly amongst themselves, even Laena was caught up in the excitement of it all. A surprise, not too long ago she had disliked the woman intensely. 

“That goes without saying, Rhaenyra. I can only hope Jeyne will accept my invitation as well,” Maris said, aiming for her usual dry and mocking tone, and failing to hide the emotion in her voice.

“I could not imagine her missing it. She considers you her greatest champion,” I told her and Maris chuckled. “Risking the Moon Door to call Yorbert Royce names I will not repeat in polite company to his face buys you a lot of leeway.”

Maris snorted at that but she knew I was right. 

“Have you set a date?” asked Falena, eagerly leaning forward in her chair. “Do you require any help planning the ceremony?”

“Alys would have loved it, that’s for certain,” said Sera with a small, pained smile. “You need not worry, as your future goodsister you shall have the grandest wedding I can muster.”

“And you will have my help, naturally,” I said. Dragonstone’s treasury could stretch a little further. Perhaps even Father might lend us some… no, Lyman would probably cry if he took more money from his war budget.

“To Maris and Harwin!” called Falena and we all followed suit, toasting the blushing would be bride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I have mentioned in the comments, the next Interlude will kick of a timeskip. I'll be covering the events of the timeskip in 'in-universe' books. Since I've finally finalised the titles for them, I figured I'd give you all a look at them.
> 
> Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken; Bastard Born; The Seven Ladies of Rhaenyra Targaryen; Dark Sister; The Black Queen; Vulture Kings; The Three Journeys; The Silver Falcon; An Age of Science; The Green Death and A History of the Schism.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, commenting and leaving Kudos! I really appreciate all the feedback you've given me.


	105. Prelude to War - Chapter 97

“So you would let them go unpunished!?” bellowed Borros, rising to his feet. Laenor followed him up, facing his mother’s cousin with a face flush with anger.

“I would see Dorne brought into this realm!” he shot back. “Not burned to the bedrock!”

“Ser Laenor is correct,” said Jeyne tartly. “Dorne is no good if we beggar ourselves taking it.”

Borros whirled to face her but she remained defiant in the face of his glare.

“You are a woman,” he sneered, finally. “What would you know of war!? Of Dorne?”

“Well noticed, Lord Borros! I would not have thought you observant enough to determine my sex.” At the provocation Borros turned a funny shade of purple.

“Enough!” roared my Father, making us all jump. Laenor and Borros lowered themselves back into their chairs. Opposite Jeyne, Elmo Tully seemed to be trying to merge with his whereas Lord Jason merely gave a small, sardonic bow in Jeyne’s direction, seemingly unbothered by the screaming. I, myself, had a headache. We had run into the second hour of discussion and already I wanted to end it all.

Two plans had emerged as I had predicted. One put forth by Gwayne Hightower, ripped entirely from his Father’s original plan. It called for two armies split between the Boneway and the Prince’s Pass. These two armies would then fight their way into Dorne whilst the fleets broke Plankeytown. Dorne would then be razed, each castle being utterly destroyed by the dragons as the army moved on. 

The other one Laenor had created. This one involved three armies. The two traditional ones at the land entrance to Dorne and third one that would ferried into Dorne via the Velaryon and Redwyne fleets to take Yronwood. The idea being that this would trap whatever forces were in the Boneway between two armies and force the army in the Pass to leave and try and rescue their trapped forces. Once that was over, the Lannister fleet would take Plankeytown and the Greenblood and the main force would begin taking castles. Most importantly, the plan had been developed to leave as much intact as possible.

Whilst Laenor’s had the support of the more moderate factions, and thankfully my Father’s and Lyonel’s, Gwayne had the vengeful idiots refusing to follow any but his. Case in point…

“Lord Borros is right,” said Jasper Wylde. “The Dornish need punishment. Offering any terms of surrender, even ones much less generous than this is… folly!”

“I don’t give a shit about either of you!” interrupted Hagen, apparently unable to contain himself any longer. Both plans gave the Ironborn a respectable role in the fighting but neither called for allowing them to raid the coasts to their hearts content. Lord Greyjoy was making his displeasure known. When he wasn’t making faces at Rhaenys, anyhow. “We were promised the chance to raid Dorne!”

“You most certainly were not!” barked Gwayne and Hagen snarled. Rickon snorted.

“What do you expect from a pirate?” It was the first words the Lord of the North had said all day and it set the Lord of the Iron Islands surging to his feet, only to be shoved back down by Erryk Cargyll at a nod from Viserys.

“I have said, that is quite enough,” said Viserys again and the table lapsed into silence.

“I admit I favour Ser Laenor’s plan,” said Lord Jason after the room fell silent. “I have been discussing the matter with Lord Lyman and Ser Jaremy and both have assured me that if we burn the damnable place down it’ll drain our treasury for generations to come.”

From a few seats down, Lord Lyman nodded so hard I feared he might strain something. Next to him, the Master of Whispers was also nodding but he seemed less sure about the matter. The members of the Small Council were taking a backseat in the shout- sorry, discussions. They were also one person short. Lorent Marbrand had not been invited to give his opinion here and according to Corlys, had yet to be invited to any Small Council meeting.

“That is what I have been saying, Lord Jason,” said Jeyne. “We should focus on conquering them and doing as little damage as possible.”

“By offering them the chance to keep the title of Prince of Dorne? To control their own taxes? Mint their own coins!?” grumbled Borros.

“I believe, and pardon me if I am wrong in this, that Ser Laenor does not expect them to accept the first offer of surrender. It is merely a ploy to make the Lords of Dorne wonder how necessary the war is,” came Elmo’s nervous contribution. Laenor nodded encouragingly at him. Borros merely snorted.

“Stinks too much of playing the Dornish at their own game,” he said finally. “And they have more practice than we do.”

“Which is why we position our forces even before we receive a reply,” said Laenor.

“Listen, I may be ‘just a woman’,” said Rhaenys, directing a glare at her cousin. Borros flushed and stared at the table. “But I damn well know how the world works. Take Gwayne’s plan and we’ll be chasing the bloody Dornish about their deserts and bleeding men.”

“Yet you can not deny, Princess Rhaenys, that the Dornish do require some punishment for their past actions,” Mellos piped up and then immediately quailed as Rhaenys glared at him. I wasn’t sympathetic. Rhaenys had not gone by the title Princess in a long time and the stress he’d put on the word implied mockery.

“That can be addressed after we have conquered Dorne,” said Corlys after a beat had passed. “Right now we need to figure out the fastest way to conquer it and Gwayne’s plan is not that way.”

“And if we follow your son’s plan we’ll be reconquering it every fifty years or so!” said Borros, unable to contain himself anymore. I grimaced as the table exploded into arguments again, as they retrod the same path they had done for the last two hours. Borros, Gwayne, Jasper and Mellos wanted harsher sanctions and punishments. Jeyne, Corlys, Lyman, myself and the Velaryons wanted a plan that left Dorne intact and ready to not drain our resources.

As for the rest, well, they had their own agendas. Elmo was cautiously on our side but was visibly unsure of his place at the table. Rickon was still sulking and refusing to give his opinion on anything as some form of protest. Hagen seemed to delight in demanding to raid and baiting every other man at the table and Lord Jason was not much better, acting the cultured Devil’s advocate and switching sides as each started to gain traction.

I let my head fall forward and massaged at my temples for a bit, yet it did little to calm the frustration bubbling under my skin. I wanted to explode, to scream at them all until they shut up and listened. Yet, I could not. The most powerful people in the land were assembled here and I needed them to think well of me. When I looked up, Viserys caught my eye.

“Enough!” he bellowed again and silence quickly fell. “Let us take a small break to set our thoughts in order.”

There was more than just my grateful sigh as chairs scraped and we all stood. Laena gave me a look that said she’d much prefer to be anywhere else but here. The most she’d done was make noises of agreement when her mother had spoken and nodded when her brother laid out his points. I understood her need to leave, I really did, but the support of the rider of Vhagar was not so easily dismissed.

Since I could not comfort her, I waited until most of our opposition had drifted away before catching Laenor in a hug. He was tense and he growled angrily into my hair before he relaxed slightly, bringing his arms around me.

“You are doing well,” I told him, aware of my Father’s eyes on me from across the room.

“It does not feel like it,” he sighed back and then raised one arm to rub at his face. I released him.

“This has been on your mind for a while, hasn’t it?” I asked, noting that he hadn’t shaved in a few days and had the beginnings of a beard forming. I ran my hand across the bristles and grimaced, much to his amusement.

“Yes. Not burning Dorne is a big thing-” He was cut off by my Father, who had finally moved in close. 

“I must admit, Ser Laenor, your plan intrigues me,” he said as I quickly lowered my hand.

“Thank you, Your Grace, it has been quite the undertaking to put together.” Viserys responded with a tight smile and I saw my moment to escape the awkwardness. I meandered about a bit, giving a small reassuring speech to Elmo and asking after Jess when I caught Jeyne. It was nice and relaxing until both Rhaenys and Borros exploded at each other across the room.

“You great lummox! Say that again! You shall meet Meleys’ flames!” Rhaenys bellowed as Borros dodged backwards from the slap she had aimed at him. Corlys caught her about the waist and nearly lost hold of her until the Cargyll twins rushed to help. She was hauled from the room, still yelling profanities. Borros looked almost shell shocked as she disappeared and I made my way over, wondering what could have prompted such a reaction.

“What a woman!” marvelled Hagen as I passed, directing his speech mostly at Laena. “She would make a worthy Rock Wife even!”

Gross.

“-do not understand women,” Borros was snarling as I reached him. Next to him, Lord Jason merely looked amused. “Elenda is much better at-”

He paused when he realised I was there and I paused when an idea hit me full in the face. Laenor’s plan called for Wyl to play the sacrificial lamb but hadn’t stated to whom. I had cautiously suggested Borros but Lady Elenda was a Caron by birth, perhaps if the forces of Nightsong were to occupy Wyl…?

“What on earth did you say to her, Lord Borros?” I asked, mimicking Jason’s amusement. Borros blushed and directed his gaze anywhere but at me. Lord Jason decided to answer my question.

“I believe Lord Borros brought up the rumours surrounding your husband, Your Grace.” I strangled the annoyance that brought and laughed, obviously fake to anyone that knew me.

“I’m surprised anyone still spreads them. Laenor proved himself innocent of such accusations when he slew Qarl Correy and put twins in my belly,” I snorted. Sensing a lifeline and proving he wasn’t as stupid as he sometimes acted, Borros nodded.

“I was trying to say that!” he said eagerly. 

“I shall ensure Rhaenys is told so.” He nodded happily and seemed to relax slightly.

“Father always said to look after cousin Rhaenys,” he said finally, odd tone to his voice. “But I have the Stormlands to think of.”

“Indeed you do. Three girls and a wife, too,” I agreed, taking advantage of the conversation to slip in my offer. “Your wife is a Caron by birth?”

He nodded, puzzled at my asking what I already knew. 

“She must be eager to see the Dornish cast down,” I said and he definitely looked puzzled now. “Perhaps you can acquire her a priceless gift from this discussion.”

“What kind of gift? The Stormlands are not rich,” he said, frowning.

“She means Wyl,” said Jason dryly. “She’s asking you to support Laenor in return for making your good-family and wife very, very happy with a gift of Wyl.”

He blinked at that for a moment as Lord Jason turned to me.

“I assume it’s Wyl. Blackmont, Kingsgrave and Skyreach will be the Reacher’s responsibility and Yronwood the main force. That leaves Wyl, the family that have earned their reputation a thousand times over.”

“So you’d let Nightsong’s men take Wyl for their own? If I support your plan,” Borros clarified.

“And any Wyl you find there,” I said, feeling nauseous. There were innocent people in that family and I was selling them to a man who would not be kind. Gods, I hope they ran. Borros looked thoughtful at that.

“Elenda would like that,” he said. 

“And after the conquest perhaps my Father may be persuaded to take Wyl and give it to the Stormlands.” He definitely liked that idea. Lord Jason gave me a small bow as a grin grew across Borros’ face.

“Deftly done, Your Grace,” he murmured and made his way over to Gwayne. I watched as he reached him and muttered something into his ear. Gwayne frowned and then sighed in defeat, nodding once. I turned back to Borros.

“Fine. If you get me Wyl, I’ll support your plan,” he said. I didn’t bother correcting him as to who came up with the plan. It didn’t truly matter, it would always be seen as my plan.

“You might wish to apologise to Rhaenys,” I advised as she was shown back in, Corlys’ arm around her waist. More for the protection of others, I think. She had once broken Malentine’s leg in an attempt to attack Daemon. He was saved from having to do so that moment by Viserys breaking off from his conversation and calling for the break to be over. We all took our seats once more.

By the time he took a final vote, Laenor’s plan passed with ease.with thirteen votes to two. It could have been more but both Hagen Greyjoy and Rickon Stark refused to vote. Still, it was one weight off of my mind. At least I would not be condemning all of Dorne to a fiery end. 

Just House Wyl.


	106. Prelude to War - Chapter 98

The next week or so proved blessedly free of headaches and surprises, allowing me to focus on Dorne. It was all very well and good that we should have a plan to take it but holding it was a different story entirely. An entirely more tricky one, in fact. I quickly sketched out my main worries: Insurgency by disloyal lords and the smallfolk, the economic mess that even Qoren hadn’t been able to fix and the sheer difference in culture our two lands had.

Insurgency amongst the nobility was most likely to come from those more obviously disloyal to Aliandra now. Wyl was the name that jumped to mind. He had been so upfront about it that Aron Dayne had been willing to risk outright civil war to rid Dorne of him. If he were left alone and unwatched, he would be trouble and he would inspire others to follow him. Perhaps, then, I had not erred when I promised Wyl’s fate to Borros Baratheon.

I swallowed as I picked up the quill again. The Wyls were a dangerous family. A symbol of more desperate times when Dorne had prevailed against all odds. The Carons would not be gentle but then Wyl of Wyl had not been gentle with his captives. Walter Wyl, the current lord, was not reputed to be a gentle man either.

No, I was already in too deep now.

As for preventing the smallfolk from rebelling, that was an all together trickier question. I had no clue why they had rebelled against Daeron, only suspicions that they had been pushed to it by vengeful Marchers eager to get even after centuries of bad blood. Preventing the smallfolk from rebelling then would be a simple matter of leaving them alone with little oversight. It would set the Lords of Westeros screaming… perhaps a Governor then. Appointed by the Iron Throne to oversee our interests. He would need his own guard, his own servants - probably his own manse too if he were to survive. Perhaps the occasional visit by a dragon to give his words weight.

He could not be Dornish and he would need to be someone that was respected… I jotted down a list of Black Lords and trusted allies that could fill the spot nicely. Whoever it was would likely end up working alongside Aliandra’s regent until she attained her majority.

Aliandra would not be in Dorne if I could help it. I wanted the girl as my ward. For both selfish and selfless reasons. Aliandra as my ward would mean she was raised alongside my children. If the gods were kind, they would befriend each other. If I were extra lucky, she would come to see me as a mother figure. Having her loyalty would go far in ensuring Dorne did not continuously rebel. 

As well… I could scarce imagine how terrifying it would be for a young girl to be raised in King’s Landing, mayhaps if I had her she would know she had someone in her corner.

As for other measures: hostages and marriages.

The marriages would have to start in the Riverlands, the Vale or the Westerlands. The North, the Reach and the Stormlands were not an appropriate place to send a Dornish man or woman and the Crownlands to close to the Throne. It would also help to send men and women to Dorne to marry as well but that would require brave souls unafraid of vipers and attacks in the dark.

Hostages from every major family were a given. The young men and women would provide Aliandra with a link to her homeland as well. She may need that link and those friendships should Garin come calling one day.

Now, onto making Dorne profitable… actually, I’d settle for not a drain on our resources. Once we took Dorne, it’s people would look to us for food and protection instead of the Martells. Given that Dorne was still recovering from Aegon’s rampage, this would require a lot of money. Fix the export infrastructure and use the subsequent income to try and boost food growth.

I had no idea what it took to grow things in the desert although I knew irrigation was involved somehow. Something to -ugh- consult the Citadel on. They would have records of any civilisation that had flourished in arid climates. If we could get more of Dorne growing food instead of being desert it would go a long way to fixing the problems that came with the acquisition.

My quill scratched over the parchment as I turned my scattered and almost illegible notes into something vaguely resembling a plan for Post-war Dorne. I wrote for quite a while, until my wrist was cramping and my handwriting starting to slide into illegible again. I was stopped not by those things but by a maid telling me my Father had sent word that he wished to see me in the Keep.

I searched my memory as I packed my things away. I had not done anything to anger him recently, of that I was quite sure. Why then did he wish to see me? The last time this had happened, I had been accused of murder and gone into labour soon after. I doubted it was anything so serious this time, there were a distinct lack of guards for it to be another accusation. 

When I arrived in the Small Council chamber, it had been transformed once more. Lyonel, Lyman and my Father sat on one side of a large oaken table. When he saw me, Viserys smiled widely and gestured to an empty seat next to him. Somewhat relieved I wasn’t to be sat in one the seats opposite, I took it gratefully, dropping a kiss to his temple as I did so.

“How has your morning been, daughter?” asked Viserys softly.

“Well enough. Jocelyn has been screaming the house down once more,” I told him and he chuckled.

“And Alyssa?” I tried not to wince at that, keeping my now somewhat strained smile in place.

“Quiet to Jocelyn’s loud. She enjoys her naps although she has finally noticed her egg.” He beamed at that news. “Might I ask what the occasion is?”

“We are to be speaking with representatives of the Iron Bank,” piped up Lyman’s reedy voice before Viserys could answer. “To discuss the prospect of a loan in regards to Dorne.”

Oh boy, this is going to be fun. 

“I wish that you had told me, I would have prepared something,” I said, trying to disguise my surprise. Lyonel passed me a stack of papers that Lyman had held out and I took them, eyes skimming over them. I had discovered early into my education as Father’s heir that I had little head for figures even though Lyman had been a patient and competent teacher. I could see his hand all over the more understandable parts.

“By the Seven…” I breathed before I could help it. 

“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Lyonel. “You see the need for a loan now.”

“How much of this can we cover with our current finances?” I asked, glancing up at Lyman. “Do we not have a surplus?”

The old man paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to explain it.

“We do indeed make a surplus at the moment, Your Grace, and going into winter we continue to do so,” he started. “Yet in winter, that surplus is eaten into by low taxes, winter storms making trading more difficult and more and more people dying off the longer winter goes on.”

That made sense. Less people to pay taxes, less trade to gather taxes from and less food to go about as people hoarded all they had saved in case the winter proved long and hard. When he saw I’d understood, he forged on.

“As well as that drop in money, expenses also rise. We must provide a bonus to the men we keep, we require more money to keep roads in good repair and… as I’m sure you understand, everything costs more in winter,” he said. “In Summer, we would be able to afford the war. I would not advise it as any disaster could see our finances spin out of control but it would be possible.”

Barely, I noted, noticing Lyman’s own summation.

“Do our finances truly drop so much?” I asked. That winter would see a drop of a hundred thousand god dragons in revenue and an increase in spending of nearly that again seemed absurd yet the explanation made sense.

Gods, I needed my own financial wizard.

“Indeed they do, Your Grace,” he said, grimly.

“Which is why we need to negotiate with the Iron Bank,” said Viserys firmly. Nobody pointed out that a loan from the Lannister’s or the Hightowers was likely to be a lot more gentle interest wise and easier to obtain. That would give them power over the court, over the conquest and over my Father. I should be thankful he wasn’t giving them new ways to push their way in once more. 

“It should be noted, Your Grace, that it is customary for the details to be negotiated after the meeting between men of the treasury and their clerks,” Lyman said.

“Forgive me, for I have never sat in such a meeting before, but what are we to do in the meeting itself?” I asked and Lyonel and Viserys chuckled in response whilst Lyman directed me a look a fond indulgence I knew so well from the days of his tutorship.

“Politics,” answered Lyonel finally and with a rueful smile in place. “They want to make sure their investment isn’t going to upset the balance if things. Unstable times make bankers very nervous, Princess, they much prefer peace, where the profits are steady.”

“I see. They shy away from the high-risk, high-reward model?” Lyonel blinked at that and Lyman butted in.

“A peculiar way to put it, Your Grace, but you have the general idea. The Iron Bank does not like gambling. They wish to know that what we owe will be paid back in full and on time,” he said.

“And of course,” said my Father quietly as the doors to the room were opened. “They like to humble us by forcing us to play to their game. A reminder, they think, that for all we have dragons, they have power still.”

I was saved from thinking on that sudden turn to hostility by the representatives themselves arriving. Three of them, each dressed in the customary dark and somber colours that indicated men of high rank in Braavos. The first was a large built man, dressed in the deep purple that was almost unique to the Braavosi yet apart from his considerable girth, there was little more memorable about him. An average face with dull, brown eyes and dark hair that showed no signs of grey. He was the one in charge, I would bet on it. The way he moved, how he remained a little ahead of the others were all clues to this fact.

Which is not to say the other two were unimportant. One I immediately nicknamed weasel, for if there was ever a face fitting that description, this man surely had it. Thin and narrow features with a truly unfortunate nose. His hair was a dirty blond and his eyes a dull grey. Like his somber companions, he wore a deep blue. Just looking at him put me on edge for he put me in mind of how Larys looked at people, just a little too intently.

And given what I now knew about Larys…

I studied the final representative. He was the opposite of weasel in every way, dressed in a deep grey. Like the fat one, he had dark hair and eyes in an average face yet it was his expression that gave him some character. His small, polite smile and the way his eyes seemed to shine as he took in the luxurious surroundings. He was also, I noted, taller than the rest yet seemed to be trying to hide the fact by bending in on himself almost.

All three were eventually seated, shuffling their chairs about and all but weasel declined the offer of wine.

“Your Grace, I can not tell you how honoured we are to have been invited here,” began Fat. “I am Laraz Irrolis ad these are my associates, Jaerys Sorrelion and Maranos Hartios.”

Oh, how interesting. The youngest man, the polite one, was a relative of dear unwanted Tycheo. I certainly did not miss Maranos’ awkward shifting as I studied him, looking for any resemblance to the rogue that had been promised to Laena.

“I am delighted to welcome you, Master Laraz,” Viserys began with a smile I was rapidly beginning to recognise as fake. “Might I introduce my daughter, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong and my Master of Coin, Lord Lyman Beesbury.”

Laraz smiled warmly and I had no doubt that it was as fake as Viserys sudden good humour.

“It is truly an honour to make your acquaintance,” he assured us. I gave him a gracious smile as his eyes lingered on me for a second. Yet even as Laraz moved on to Lyonel and Lyman, Jaerys’ dirty grey eyes remained on me for all he was trying to pretend he was examining a stack of papers that he had placed in front of himself. When I made it clear I had noticed his observation, he smiled thinly and looked away, making a note.

Curious.

“So, shall we get down to business!” suggested Laraz. You could almost see Viserys’ teeth in his smile as he gave his assent. “You wish to borrow a sum of money from the Iron Bank of Braavos to fund a war of conquest in Dorne.”

“That is correct. I had hoped for peace-”

“Yet Otto Hightower’s death left you little choice, I quite understand. I do,” said Laraz and Viserys lips pursed in annoyance. No Westerosi lord would dream of interrupting the King. “And the attempted poisoning of your own daughter did not help matters.”

I did not miss Lyonel’s sudden tenseness and neither did Laraz, if the way he moved on from the topic was any indication.

“We understand your position, Your Grace. There have been many discussions amongst the Keyholders regarding the Dornish matter for quite some time. The late Prince Qoren borrowed quite the sum of money from us at the beginning of his reign,” Laraz informed us. “Of course, they have kept up with the repayments so far but concerns have been raised as to how they will continue paying under your rule.”

“You may be assured that, under my rule, Dorne will pay what it owes. In full and on time,” Viserys replied firmly, sounding sincere. There was a threat in his voice but Laraz merely smiled. The threat was not for him anyway but I did not miss Maranos’ little shudder, or the look Jaerys shot him in response.

“Of course, Your Grace. You are known to Braavos as an honourable man, invested in the rule of law like Jaehaerys before you.” It was blatant flattery and I was happy to note Father did not rise to the bait and start preening like a lesser man might have done at being compared to ‘the Wise’. “Would I be right to assume you would be willing to agree to take Dorne’s debts should they fail to pay?”

I forced myself to stay still. The Iron Bank would have it’s due, indeed. Be it from Dorne or ourselves. Yet there was no way he could say no and still expect to get our own loan from the Bank. Gods, I would need someone dedicated to dealing with these bankers when I ascended the Throne. I did not want to be reduced to selling the mess of half-melted swords off to pay a debt because I did not read the fine print.

Lyman coughed politely and our gazes swung to him. You could have heard a pin drop as the elderly Lord leaned over and whispered something into Viserys’ ear. The King frowned and nodded.

“We would be willing to agree to that on the understanding that it would only be Dorne’s loans we become responsible for.” I frowned at his words even as Lyman smiled and I fancied a brief chagrined look crossed Laraz’ face. “We will not become responsible for every loan any in Westeros take with you.”

Oh, by the Seven, I would have missed that. Of course it set a precedent in which they could argue us responsible for any idiots loans after making us pay Dorne’s.

“Of course, my most sincere apologies if I worded it in such a manner!” said Laraz, any trace of chagrin gone from his features.

“Then we are agreed? The Iron Bank will extend to Iron Throne a line of credit should we enforce Dorne’s repayments?” asked Viserys. Laraz glanced at his companions. Jaerys nodded, barely visibly. Maranos’ was more obvious and Laraz beamed.

“That is agreeable to us, Your Grace. I’ll send young Maranos here to discuss the matter with Lord Lyman at his earliest convenience.”

Well, that went… well.


	107. Prelude to War - Chapter 99

“And why did you spend fifty five gold dragons on such a curious device?” asked Joffrey, as I presented him with the magnifying glass. I watched as he turned it over in his hands, looking mystified as my smile grew. Oh, it was overly fancy for what it would hopefully be used for. The Myrish lenses were set in a gold frame and the handle was carved from Ebony. 

“It’s all in the name of intelligence gathering,” I told him.

“Then perhaps I can start now,” he said and placed it carefully down on his desk. “What is it for?”

I produced the pot of fine powder, made from what I do not know, and dropped it to the desk before stealing a pot of ink and some paper to round it all off. Joffrey watched me as if I had gone mad. I suppose, in his defence, there was no particular rhyme or reason to my actions.

“Now, here is a fun fact,” I said once I had all my bits and pieces arranged. “No two fingerprints are the same.”

He blinked and then folded his hands under his chin.

“Go on.” I tried to smile as all his attention came to focus on me. He was my primary contact with Wisdom Jerrett for a reason. The new technologies fascinated him on a personal level and were an important tool for keeping an edge in his service to my cause. Under his gaze I polished the glass with a clean handkerchief until it shone and then pressed my thumb into it, leaving a mark we could both see.

Then I uncapped the ink and poured a small amount into the lid, dipping the handkerchief in and painting my thumb a deep black. Then, I pressed it to his paper several times before handing him the ink and cloth. He did the same with a bemused smile.

“Fingerprints get left on everything we touch without gloves,” I told him as I tilted the glass and unscrewed the powder Jerrett had sent me, ostensibly so I could discover if the maids were cleaning my quarters properly. “So if you can find someway to highlight them, make them visible even to the human eye, then you can compare them. Since no two are the same, it’s easy to prove who last held an object.”

He did not answer as the powder spilt over the glass. I blew gently and the excess powder disappeared from the surface and spread itself across Joffrey’s desk, leaving a semi-visible thumb print behind. It was not perfect, nowhere near the level of ‘modern’ fingerprint dusts but it was enough. Joffrey caught the idea soon enough and retrieved the magnifying glass and examined the print on the glass and the sample prints.

“Hmmm,” he said finally. Underwhelming much.

“Hmmm?” I asked. He placed the magnifying glass down once more and gave a me a look with a half apologetic look on his face. “This will revolutionise crime detection.”

“I am well aware of that,” he said, now more amused than not. “But I do not see it’s worth to… well, my line of work.”

“The poisoning,” I said. “Imagine if you could have taken prints from the bottle.”

In truth I had been angry at myself that I had not thought of it sooner. The bottle had long since been destroyed but with so many suspects even ruling a few out would be useful beyond measure. Joffrey tapped out a rhythm on his desk and glanced at the glass again.

“We would only have the print on our end though,” he pointed out. 

“But we could use it to identify whether a suspect did or did not do it once we have one,” I argued. “Imagine a fingerprint in blood on a doorway. We know it is not the victims because her hands are too small. Ergo, it must be the killers. When we have a suspect-”

“We test it.” He had his hands under his chin again, eyebrows drawn into a V over his eyes as he thought. “Very well, I admit it has it’s uses.”

I must have pouted because his amused look came back even as he struggled to look stern.

“I will work on it,” he promised. I was about to press the issue further when somewhere above us, a door slammed and the distance sounds of Laena yelling filled the manse. Joffrey was in the dark as I was if the confused looks we shot at each other was any indication.

“-ave a right to see it!” she was bellowing as Joffrey and I got closer.

“No, you most certainly do not!” barked Corlys, prompting a scream of frustration.

“Why are you being stubborn!? It’s just some books and art!” she was retorting as I pushed open the door to the room to Corlys and Rhaenys’ living space. Instead of answering, Corlys directed a glare at us and Laena whirled around. “Rhaenyra! Joff!”

“I will not change my mind, Laena,” her Father warned. Puzzled, I glanced between the two, noting the flush on both of their cheeks that indicated they had each been arguing for some time. A sigh came from somewhere over my shoulder.

“Do not get involved, Rhaenyra,” sighed Joffrey, sounding tired. “They will yell at each other until the end of days and neither will bend for the other no matter what you say.”

“He will bend for Rhaenyra! For his future Queen!” Laena protested but the effect was ruined by Corlys throwing up his hands and shaking his head in denial.

“Future!” he replied, crossing his arms. “Not yet my Queen.”

“Perhaps you could explain what the argument is about?” I said and Joffrey sighed again before moving forward to stand by my side.

“It is quite simple,” said Corlys. “Laena wants something from my private collection and I have said no. This tantrum wil-”

“It’s not that simple!” she interrupted, turning those pleading eyes on me.

“What has she asked to see?” I asked, trying to ignore the heart wrenching effect of that expression.

“A few books… a reed tapestry or two… all are unimaginably old. And rare. And are in storage for their own protection.” He could not have looked more shifty if he’d actively tried. Even Joffrey was frowning at the display.

“Surely a simple viewing-”

“No.” I blinked at the cold shut down and the glare I was getting. “They stay in the vault.”

“Lord Corlys?” The man’s glare turned to his goodson. “Laena? What exactly are these artifacts?”

Both father and daughter glanced at each other, before Corlys snorted.

“Well, I suppose there is no hiding it. They relate to magic,” he said and I saw Laena wince.

“Magic,” I repeated, not taking my eyes off of her. “You have an interest in magic now?”

“Not exactly.” Her response was more shifty than Corlys behaviour and at my narrowed eyes she blushed red. “Fine! Yes! The whole concept of the dragons are deeply routed in magic. One can not understand dragons without magic!”

I stared at her, her face flushed with righteous anger. Next to me, I sensed Joffrey doing much the same.

“You have to understand,” she said into the silence. “They are creatures of magic. Those books, that art… I need it! Jerrett’s books can only convey so much!”

“Jerrett,” said Joffrey, raising a hand to his forehead and groaning. “Of course that mad man is involved.”

“He gave me a few lessons in the basics,” Laena retorted “And pointed me towards more reading materials.”

My brain finally rebooted and I shook myself from my shock, almost physically.

“I don’t understand.” She grimaced at my statement. “You wish to learn magic to understand the dragons?”

“You know why it’s important, Rhaenyra,” she insisted, stepping forward and taking my hand. Her eyes sought mine as she gripped my fingers tight. When she spoke next, her voice was a whisper. “Our future, our children’s future… rebellion… the Long Night.”

“And how does learning magic help?” I hissed. “Apart from painting a target on your back that every slightly devout lord will use for practise.”

She let go of my hand and stepped back.

“It’s more than just the dragons,” she said finally after taking a deep breath. “It’s Westeros as a whole.”

“Explain,” her Father said. She took another deep breath.

“It is hard to,” she said finally. “It’s routed in concepts I do not fully understand. Concepts I know are explored in those books!”

“Do your best,” commanded Joffrey, cutting Corlys’ response off. The man fell back, looking disgruntled.

“Did Jerrett ever mention a tablet to you?” she asked. “It’s from the Great Empire of the Dawn-”

“The Tablet of Stars,” I said and she nodded.

“Just seeing it is considered the pinnacle of Alchemy, Jerrett says. It supposedly describes the first Long Night and how it came about. After… after I learnt of certain facts, I asked Jerrett and he told me about the tablet.” So she’d gone investigating after learning of my tale. Of canon. “And remembered I’d seen some of the symbols he showed me. In Father’s collection!”

“You believe it’s important to understanding what the Long Night is?” I asked. We were a long way off the second Long Night. It was, quite literally, not a priority.

“Not just the Long Night but… magic! The Great Empire of the Dawn outstripped even the Valyrian Freehold! They had magic we could only dream of, that Valyrian sorcerers could only dream of!” She was cut off by Corlys surging forwards and seizing her arms.

“Listen to yourself, girl! You sound like a madwoman!” he bellowed and even Joffrey flinched at the sudden volume. “Better men than you have wasted their lives seeking these secrets! It drives them mad! Then it kills them!”

She tried to pull free but he held her still. I could only stare as her violet eyes widened and Corlys’ face hovered ever closer to her own. In fairness, even Joffrey seemed routed to the floor in shock.

“You speak of some ancient disaster as if it’s relevant! You speak of violating the tenets of the Faith as if it’s nothing! Might I remind you of Gogossos? That dead city riddled with sorceries and plagues? Of the twisted monsters that it birthed as the Valyrians practised their magics?” Finally he let her go and stood back, his next words were hoarse with emotion. “Cease this search, daughter. Stick with your dragons. Pursue the matter of the artifacts again while I live and I will have you stripped of your name.”

We were left gaping as he stormed out. I turned my head back to Laena, who had the beginnings of tears in her eyes and stretched out my hand to place it on her shoulder. She flinched when I did but caught my wrist as I drew back.

“I need those books,” she said, voice bitter and tears flowing down her face. “It’s more than just… Rhaenyra, please. Runestone, Winterfell, the Wall, I know if you let me continue, I can find the answers to those mysteries.”

I said nothing and Joffrey copied me. She tried to pull me close then stopped when I proved resistant.

“Burn powder,” she said. “Jerrett told me. This could be the reason it requires blo-”

“Enough,” I said, finally, making up my mind. “Laena we are constantly observed, constantly attacked and our enemies will use any perceived weakness. We can not afford to get involved in magic of all things.”

“You tasked me to learn the truth about dragons!” That made me pause. “We need them if we are to survive and yet if I am to know their secrets, then I must delve deeper.”

“You put us all in a difficult position,” said Joffrey, his stick tapping as he moved closer. “We can not afford rumours of magic.”

“Yet all will be lost if we lose our dragons.” She abandoned me and appealed to her husband. “You and I are good enough to hide it.”

There were dark rumours about Targaryens that had gotten to involved in magic and it’s practitioners; Maegor, Aemond, Shiera, Bloodraven… probably Stannis too, in his future. Yet if Laena was right… Daenerys had hatched her eggs, a miracle if George were to be believed, whilst echoing the words of a witch. Oh gods, whichever way I jumped I was at a disadvantage.

“Fine,” I said and Laena whirled around to stare at me. Joffrey too. “It is kept secret. Nobody learns of it. You consult me regularly and no, and I mean this Laena, no killings, no blood magic - theory only.”

“Nothing like that!” she assured me, leaning into Joffrey, looking relieved. “I only need the theory to expand upon Barth’s work.”

I was about to chide her further on the matter when I was interrupted by yet another Velaryon yelling. This time it was Laenor and he was yelling for me. I was out of the room in a flash and heading towards the nursery as fast as my legs could realistically go.

My husband was half leaning out of the door when I reached him, my breath coming in short pants. Whether it was due to fear or exertion I could not tell. He seized my wrist and dragged me forward into the nursery itself, babbling incoherently. I tried to get him to stop, to calm down and tell me what was wrong before I exploded yet when he dragged me before the twins, both seemed fine.

“What?” I finally managed to gasp out. Laenor finally stopped and looked at me, face morphing from a confusing mix of emotions to slightly guilty.

“Nothing is wrong! I’m sorry but-”

“Da-da.”

I peered at Jocelyn as she descended into happy babbling, small arms waving in the air.

“Did she-” I was cut of by Laenor’s nodding, silver hair a mess about his face and his eyes threatening tears. I turned back to my daughter, who seemed intent on trying to catch her own foot now that it seemed play was not forthcoming. “Oh.”

I only realised I was weeping tears of joy when Laenor’s threatened tears broke and he threw his arms around me. I couldn’t help but laugh as he lifted me into the air and twirled me around.

“She said da-da! She knows who I am!” he crowed joyfully. I was still weeping slightly when he put my down, a grin so wide I feared he may strain something.

“Yes!” I said back, gripping his arms and overwhelmed. “But if Alys’ first word is not ma-ma, we’re having words.”

The threat had no bite to it. I was too happy and so was he.


	108. Prelude to War - Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I've finally decided on what the timeskip will look like. After Viserys' Interlude has been posted I'm going to take a weeks break from posting. Then I'll post fourteen timeskip chapters that will cover a decade of time and then I shall take another weeks break. I know that means a month before regular posting starts again but I'll need to rebuild my buffer and I have three assignments that need completing.

Corlys was still on edge the next day when I finally managed to arrange some sort of meeting between us all. The frown on Laenor’s face as he examined Laena told me Joffrey had filled him in on what his sister intended to do. Although if Rhaenys knew what Laena and Corlys’ disagreement had been about she certainly didn’t show it. Instead she greeted us all with a smile and a quick update on the rebuilding of Spicetown. The good news was that they had managed to pull ahead of schedule, which pleased Laenor. The news of them being over budget was a little more concerning. Still, it was Velaryon gold - not technically mine and I was not allowed to sulk when they spent it.

Besides, the work on Spicetown would benefit me in the long run.

As they all settled into seats and murmured their greetings, I shuffled the papers I’d had one of Joffrey’s scribes copy out. Each copy listed my ideas, thoughts and wants all drawn up into a solid plan for reforming Westeros’ laws and hopefully heading off the disasters of the future Targaryen Kings. They’d find new ones, I was quite sure, but I could not prepare for every eventuality and so I had not tried to.

I began sliding each copy out. Not one of them seemed put off by the thickness of it I was glad to see.

“This is just a first impressions discussion,” I said. “We can refine and work on it through further meetings.”

“The Basic Law of the Seven Kingdoms,” said Rhaenys, her tone doubtful. I did not wince but it was a close run thing. That tone already did not bode well and this was just the first, and least objectionable, of the changes I planned to make.

“Indeed,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “A foundation our descendants can use to build a better future for themselves.”

Her face did not change from it’s doubtful frown as her eyes scanned through it. Laena merely looked puzzled, Joffrey and Corlys thoughtful whereas Laenor… damn it, also a doubtful frown. I remembered his staunch opposition to change long ago and took a deep breath. If I was lucky I would win over Joffrey and Corlys and they would help convince their significant others.

“The first five decrees are already law,” she said finally but I sensed her disgruntlement was due to the last two decrees.

“They are common laws or customs. They are done because they have always been done that way. People can not imagine it not being done. I am merely putting ink on the paper and formalising the matter,” I explained. Besides, this was to be a set of laws that not even a King could break. Especially decree one, with any luck adhering to that would prevent any regrettable incidents like murdering a Lord Paramount and his Heir.

The other formalised the ban of slavery, guaranteed the right to petition the crown, guaranteed the right for a trial and guaranteed the right to take the Black if you have been convicted of a capital crime. Basic stuff. Nothing revolutionary.

“What do you think of the last two?” I asked my assembled ‘small council’. Those referred to the formalisation of a Great Council in the case of a disputed succession and the idea that not even a king could break the above laws without permission of more than half his Lords. Those ideas were… radically new to Westeros. Especially the last one. The idea that the King’s word was not law? That his power was not absolute?

The look on their faces told me everything as they struggled to find someway to let me know I was making a massive mistake with decree seven without hurting my feelings. I levelled them all with my best stare. I would be Queen, I could take criticism. Surprisingly, it was Joffrey who spoke up first.

“Do you not disinherit yourself with this decree?” he asked, tapping decree six on his copy. “If a Great Council were called, how many would support your brother because they do not believe a female ruler is capable? You risk destabilising your own rule from the start.”

“Too many would support Aegon, you have the right of that,” I admitted. “And his descendants may call a Great Council upon my death but they will already consider themselves the true heirs and is this way not better than burning tens of thousands whenever dispute does arise? Besides, I have prepared something to remedy such a situation.”

He could not argue that but it seemed Rhaenys had finally found a point to debate me on.

“You are giving to much power to the Lords,” growled Rhaenys. “A Great Council every time succession is disputed? They would seek to call every succession into dispute. They would seek to make every monarch a beggar that must come to them on bended knee.”

“Then it is a simple matter of defining what the dispute is?” I answered back. Her eyebrows came together in a dangerous V and her mouth opened to respond but oddly enough, it seemed I had won over Corlys at least.

“Rhaenyra is right, my love, what is the Kingdom worth if it is set aflame every generation or so?” he said gently.

“It would not be set aflame if people would follow the word of the King,” protested Laenor.

“Which King would that be? Rhaenyra may protest the Great Council was about the right of a King to pick his heir but we all know that’s not what Jaehaerys had in mind. Should we follow his word of no woman sitting the Iron Throne?” For a moment I thought Rhaenys might slap Corlys and then, miraculously, she relaxed. Her face did not change from thunderous disapproval though. Laenor had nothing to say to that but he was still frowning when he dropped his eyes back to his copy.

“Am I correct in assuming this ‘House of Lords’ you have described would form the Great Council?” asked Joffrey having read ahead. I glanced at Laena, confirming that she had nothing to say on the ‘Basic Law’ before moving to answer Joffrey’s query.

“It would,” I confirmed. Like many things, George’s nobility were analogous to Medieval nobility just blown up on a massive scale. The Dukes were what I had come to privately refer to as the Lords Paramount; Stark, Arryn, Tully, Greyjoy… those that ruled over Kingdoms in all but name and in some cases had ruled Kingdoms in the past.

Lords were the ones sworn directly to a Lord Paramount and had vassals sworn to them in turn, in my classification of rank. Westeros was vast, yet there were only about five hundred Lords that met this criteria. The rest were what I would think of as barons, landed knights and wealthy land owners. Any below the rank of Lord would be excluded from this House of Lords if only because I doubted there was a place in Westeros that could hold all of them.

I had my heart set on Harrenhal, I would admit. The Strongs could be bought with a less cursed castle and I could knock down that twisted, half burned mess and turn it into something useful. I’m getting ahead of myself. If I can’t even push this idea past my own supporters, I will never get Westeros as a whole to accept it.

“It is to give the Lords an illusion of power in truth,” I said, feeling the need to explain further. “They have power, yes, but the framework puts that power entirely at the discretion of the Monarch.”

“So I see,” said Rhaenys, sourly. “I mislike it. The King’s word is law. They should not need to ask the Lords for their opinions.”

“Come now, Rhaenys, she makes it clear in her writings she would not be asking. It’s a stamp of approval, a way to gauge how well the law would be recieved. A Monarch might ignore the decision should they wish,” said Corlys. Rhaenys pursed her lips. She was struggling with the idea that anyone who rode a dragon or had claim to our blood should ask for the opinions of those ‘below’ them yet she was clever enough that she knew having some sort of way of gauging the opinion of the assembled nobles was a good one.

Pride warred with pragmatism.

“It only takes one weak king,” she said finally. “One weak king and the nobles will run amok with this power you wish to give them.”

“A weak king would allow them to run amok anyway,” I replied and none of us mentioned the name Viserys. He had not covered himself in glory in his early reign, even if he was making up for it now. It was clear from her pained expression she still could not quite let go of a dragon’s pride. “At least with the House, Lords can air their grievances instead of letting it boil to rebellion.”

I saw the moment the spark of understanding went off behind those who knew about Aerys the Mad and finally Laenor nodded. Presumably because he saw the point of not letting things get that bad and couldn’t come up with a better way to prevent it himself.

“It can not be allowed to propose it’s own laws,” said Laenor finally. “Or block them if it is the Monarch’s will. That is much too far but I see no problem in allowing them at least some say.”

Her son giving in was enough for Rhaenys to sigh in defeat and nod her assent. Again, Laena had little to say on the matter. She was chewing her lip and looking a bit baffled as she flicked ahead through my proposed changes.

“This Succession Act will cause problems,” said Laenor as they all read through the next proposed change. “I understand your need to legitimise your claim through the title of Princess of Dragonstone but… all children of the first wife before the children of the second? Do you truly need to legitimise yourself twice?”

“I consider it prudent,” I said.

“It will cause problems,” said Rhaenys.

“Succession always has problems. At least with a Great Council we can prevent those problems from becoming violent,” I replied and she snorted.

“You still have not defined a ‘dispute’. In your Act, it says that Succession will be published by the Small Council to the sixth degree,” Joffrey cut in. I paused at that. Damn him, he did have a point.

“It would have to be based in law,” I decided. “Not just anytime someone wants to fight for it. Suspected bastardy for example?”

“And other examples would be?” he asked. I ignored the intense focus I was getting from the others.

“If someone in the line committed a criminal act.” Damn him, he’d seen my hesitation.

“Like kidnapping?” asked Laena, coming to my rescue. “Would that disinherit his children as well or just him?”

“Just him,” I answered as Rhaenys frowned.

“That sounds very specific,” she said. Laena flushed in response.

“We were debating made-up scenarios for laws,” she muttered. Corlys raised an eyebrow. “In this one, the Crown Prince kidnaps the daughter of Lord Stark and the heir of Lord Stark threatens the Prince’s life. We were debating the outcome for that.”

“An interesting scenario,” Corlys said, amusement playing about his lips. “Were there others?”

“A King legitimising all his bastards on his death bed, the Queen passing of bastards as trueborn… uh… the North succeeding?” she replied, which sent her Mother into a fit of laughter.

“I see a lot of laws that make sense with that context,” said Corlys, smiling at his wife’s amusement. Then his expression darkened. “Including this matter about Courts.”

“Yes,” I said. “It lets the Crown claw some power from the nobles in exchange for the House of Lords business.”

“So it does,” said Laenor. “But I agree with Father. It will not be well-received.”

They were not wrong. The Lords had been the enforcers of the law on their lands for time immemorial. My proposals would see three courts set up and my Lords would only have control of one; Magistrates, Crown Courts and High Courts.

The Lords would be their own Magistrates, or they could appoint someone in their name, but like in that half forgotten land my mind had originated from the Magistrates would only try summary offences. Summary offences were things like theft, assault, drunk and disorderly, disturbing the peace and other such crimes. For anything bigger, or indictable, it must go to the proposed Crown Court.

These Courts would be overseen by Justices of the Peace, men appointed by the Crown. That would be the sticking point of course. Lords would not wish to lose their ability to try such cases as murder, rape, treason and banditry. They would be very, very opposed, violently in some cases, but this was the height of Targaryen power and if we did go on to lose our dragons later we would need institutions to cement our rule.

The Three Courts would be one of them.

The Third Court would be the High Court. My attempt at removing the sting of losing the Crown Courts. Only the nobility would be tried here and only they would have the right of trial by their peers. I had no doubt many would still prefer trial by combat but I had no chance in all Seven Hells of removing that particular right. The least I could do was add in a provision to prevent those on trial pulling a Tyrion and declaring trial by combat after another such trial is underway.

None of it was perfect, it would definitely need the decade and a half I hoped I had before Father’s death to refine but it was a start. A better one than I had hoped given that Laenor and Rhaenys still looked unconvinced. Still, I had not expected for them to agree with everything and I had no doubt I would be receiving their corrections and suggestions.

“It will not,” I finally replied after Laenor raised an eyebrow at my brooding. “But we need a better handle on the nobility.”

“I will not deny that,” said Rhaenys with a sigh. I had no doubt as to what she was thinking. Had this clarification existed when her Father had been alive, she would be Queen now. There is some part of her that will never let that go, I think. “Still, I will… work with these suggestions for now.”

From the set of her mouth, she had already thought up a lot of ‘suggestions’. Judging by Corlys and Laenor nodding along and Joffrey already making his notes, I suspected it would be more work than I had hoped.

“I have an issue with these proposed changes to City Charters,” began Corlys and I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh.

The rest of this meeting would no doubt prove to be a long one.


	109. Prelude to War - Chapter 101

Perhaps I had blown this whole thing out of proportion.

That was all I could think as I surveyed my ladies. They were dressed in crimson edged in black, a pleasing inversion of my own dress although mine was far more ostentatious where they wore a somewhat simpler style. The Seven know Marya and Falena had cursed me for choosing it as they’d fastened and strapped me into the damnable thing this morning. It had layers, it had dragons and it had metal trimmings. Impressive to look at and a bitch to get into and out of. The colour, the shock and awe - all to hammer home my children were dragons, Targaryens, and not Velaryons as many in court might mutter.

By the Seven, I was fretting again.

I turned my back on them and made my way over to the heavy velvet curtain, pulling back the corner so I could peer out over the assembled crowd. It was the somebodies of Westeros, yet again, that had gained access to the Sept. There would be many more later, when our little party made its way to the Throne room but even looking out over the crowd now had my heart pounding.

“Rhaenyra,” Laena said gently from behind me. “Come away from the curtain. You will just work yourself up further.”

I stepped back and let the velvet fall back into place, taking a deep breath before forcing a smile on my face and turning to her. She raised an elegant silver eyebrow at how fake the grin must look. Or how manic I must look. It was hard to tell.

“Deep breaths,” she said. I followed her advice as the world tilted around me a little. “I have not known you to be so worked up about a public appearance ever before.”

I pulled a face at the teasing smile on her face but it only made her chuckle.

“It is not just my appearance now,” I told her and if on cue, one of the stars of the show gave a wail. Laena’s amusement only increased as we both turned in time to see Laenor lift Jocelyn from Marya’s hands and cradle her to himself. He’d bowed to me on his dress today. He’d taken one look at my expression and timidly agreed to wear whatever I had the maids lay out for him. 

I’d had to wrestle with the temptation to drape him in my own colours for a little too long to be healthy. Still he wore a beautiful doublet, stitched with silver seahorses and waves. A matching cloak was thrown over his shoulders and his now shoulder length hair was pulled back into a tail. He wore a blade at his waist, the only thing he’d truly insisted on against my wishes. He wanted to appear the handsome warrior prince.

“I have her in hand,” he said, noticing my look. It was true. She had been completely distracted by the silver seahorse clasp of his cloak and was pawing at it with a smile stretching her face. I gave him a strained grin and turned back to an even more amused Laena.

“I am allowed to fret,” I told her sternly and she snickered into the back of her hand.

“Perhaps you could see how Sera is doing with Alys instead of working yourself up further,” she suggested once she’d calmed a little. I followed her pointed look to the Strong girl. Sera was singing softly, that much I could tell, and Alys was gazing up at her in adoration. It made my heart ache with happiness to see that unwavering violet stare. When I reached them, Sera paused and Alys tore her eyes from her and onto me.

My heart nearly burst in my chest when she smiled happily at me. She may have been slow to do so but now that she could my Alys had smiles for everyone. Sera passed her over. It all seemed to be moving so fast, I reflected as I rocked her back and forth in my arms. It seemed like only yesterday that I had birthed them and now they were to be presented to the Court. Soon they would be teething, hopefully anyway, and beyond that crawling. Walking. Jocelyn was already babbling and finding her voice. Alys had yet to say any discernible words but she would not be far behind her sister, I knew. It was enough to make me want to shout ‘Stop! Slow down! Let me get my thoughts in order!”

“You should not frown so close to your appearance, you’ll worry Alys,” chided Sera and I forced said expression from my face.

“I said it to Laena and I’ll say it to you,” I said passing Alys back. “I am allowed to fret. It’s their big day.”

“That it is,” replied Sera. She still was not sleeping well, I could tell. Dark circles not quite masked by powder. I was at a loss for what to do. Nothing could heal the loss of a twin. My eyes found my daughter’s and from Sera’s arms she smiled at me again. Alys was helping matters, I think. I no longer needed to worry about not having a guard dragon in the Nursery, I had a guard Sera.

It was more often than not that I found her dozing in there in the early morning.

“It’s time!” called Laenor, handing Jocelyn back to Marya and beckoning me over. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm. Laenor’s arm looping through mine helped. Behind us, Sera and Marya cradled the twins and behind them were Maris, Falena and Laena. Feeling as if I were actually floating, we made our way down the long hallway and down the stairs. 

The doors of the Sept were opened before us and the excited buzz from within fell silent as our procession began. This had mostly been my father’s idea and it showed. The spectacle was all him. Dread mounted in my heart as Jocelyn began her angry grunting, the usual prelude to her screams that could wake even the deepest sleeper, yet I dared not look back.

I would have to trust Marya to calm her.

By the time we reached my Father, she was still grunting angrily but had not devolved into a tantrum. I thanked six of the Seven for their mercy and focused on getting through their first public appearance without somehow passing out.

Father was beaming as we all took our assembled places. His smile even wider than Laenor’s whenever he stopped to reflect on his children but then that was Father. In the past six months, I had come to the conclusion that Father loved children. I was startled to find tears in his eyes though, as he gazed at me. At least until Eustace ruined the moment.

The Septon stepped forward and cleared his throat before launching into a speech or sermon. It was clear from the beginning that he would not be able to keep the attention of the crowd. All of them, even those I would not have been expected to be interested like Hagen Greyjoy and Rickon Stark, were peering intently at my girls. Everyone wanted to see their new Princesses.

And, muttered my more cynical side, see how they measure up against that desired son. I refused to frown at the thought though, keeping my polite smile plastered across my face. It became harder and harder to keep as Eustace droned on. Occasionally he actually mentioned the twins, the whole point of this ceremony and the reason we were all here, but mostly he focused on his usual sanctimonious blathering.

By the end of it, even my Father’s smile looked strained.

Once Eustace had wrapped up, Viserys stepped forward. I tried not to make the tension that drained from my body obvious. Eustace could make even the most pious and devout men look desperately for the doors with his sermons but Father, he could rouse the dead to fight for him. The change in atmosphere was not just limited to me. The bored, dull acceptance became charged with excitement.

“My Lords and Ladies!” he called, hands sweeping about. “I thank you all for coming today!”

He would be better off apologising for making them all sit through that horrendous show Eustace had put on and then grovelling at my party’s feet for making us stand through it.

“We are here today to celebrate the future!” he called. “And the future can be found in my grandchildren! My first grandchildren! The first of many, I hope!”

The crowd chuckled and I tuned out, letting my eyes wander over the crowd. Jeyne was front and centre, smiling broadly at me with Denys Corbray by her side. Elmo was seated just behind her, enraptured in Viserys’ speech and did not even seem to notice my attention. Gwayne Hightower almost certainly noticed though, his eyes flickering from Viserys to mine and then back.

Lord Jason had arranged his face into a polite smile as he listened. His twin, Tyland, was sat next to him. Both had once competed for my hand as newly made knights. Jason with quick wit and poetry; Tyland with a show of arms every morn in the training yard. Both were handsome, blond and so far up themselves that being married to either of them was my idea of one of the Seven Hells. 

As I could have probably guessed, Hagen and Rickon were the only ones not showing approval. My eyes met Rickon’s grey ones and I didn’t miss the anger and fury in them. It would seem someone had found out about Bennard’s Desert Wolves plan. Well, it was as much Borros’ fault as it was mine. The Stormlord was enraptured in Viserys’ speech as Elmo Tully was but his wife gave me an almost imperceptible nod when she noted my attention had fallen on her. Elenda was sharp. Somebody to watch but not a problem yet.

No, my problem was a different region entirely. The North. Soon Rickon would be dead. Not even half a decade actually. In canon he leaves the regency in the hands of his much younger and very ambitious brother, Bennard. A man more charming than I would have given anyone named Stark credit for yet I was not discounting his overtures as support for a coup in the North.

For it was a coup he was probably pursuing.

The boy Bennard would serve as Regent for was Cregan Stark, a man I had a lot of mixed feelings about. During the Dance, the vast majority of Cregan’s men had hung back, although he had sent men South. Those men had been placed under the command of Roderick ‘the Ruin’ Dustin. They’d been damn effective, punching well above their weight when it came to offing important Greens, but they’d only numbered in the low thousands.

Cregan had only moved North after canon!Rhaenyra’s death. He’d met up with what was left of Rhaenyra’s loyalists and somewhat hijacked the cause. By the time he had reached the city, the Aegon of that time had been dead and Cregan had been the architect of the Hour of the Wolf. 

Would he be a just man? One willing to punish all murderers and traitors even if their actions had benefited him? Or was he ruthless, saving his strength until he could dictate terms with the strongest army even if his chosen candidate died in the process?

Cregan or Bennard was the question I had to ask myself. Would Bennard even be made regent now he had gone so openly against his brother? There was a good question.

Cheers filled the Sept as my father came to the end of his grand speech and I forced myself back into the presence, politely clapping as he stood with arms spread wide, drinking in the adoration of the crowd. 

We were escorted by the six knights of the Kingsguard the empty Throne room. Two cradles had been set up. I imagined Sera and Marya were quite happy to drop their heavy bundles into them. 

It wasn’t long before Alicent slipped in, my siblings trailing after her like little ducklings. I greeted each of them with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. It was probably a testament to Eustace’s powers of boredom that even Aemond accepted it without complaint or squirming. 

“How did you find the ceremony?” asked my Father. His younger children all glanced at one another before Helaena spoke up.

“It was boring.” I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting out with laughter even as Father frowned at the statement. Next to him, Alicent’s eyebrows came together to demonstrate her annoyance.

“Boring,” Father repeated. Helaena nodded.

“You should get a better Septon,” said Aegon, coming to back her up. “Septon Eustace is boring. Septon Will is much more exciting!”

“So is Septon Tommen,” said Aemond quietly. Daeron merely clutched Aegon’s sleeve tightly, violet eyes watching us all. Father sighed heavily.

“Boring they say,” he said then turned to me. “Ah well. It is your day, daughter. How have you found it?”

The temptation to say boring was almost overwhelming but I controlled myself.

“Well enough. Now! Should we not prepare for the crowd that will be in here soon enough?” At my words, he nodded, clapped and sent everyone scurrying to their places.

Show time!


	110. Prelude to War - Chapter 102

“Beautiful girls,” mumbled one of the faceless Lords of Westeros that had been traipsing by the cribs for the past half an hour or so. Not that the girls noticed, they were fast asleep. Jocelyn had taken the initial crowd badly and it had taken both Laenor and myself to be constantly within view for her to calm. Alys had been better but her smiles had died completely as face after face had passed by. Now she was snoring away, her pudgy hand resting on her egg.

That had not been my idea but Laena’s.

“Let them see the eggs,” she said as Rhaenys had delivered them into the crib. “Let them know your children are dragons.”

Rhaenys had been all but preening as she listened to her daughter’s words. I was sure now that Corlys had not told her about Laena’s interest in magic and how she had fought for access to his more esoteric treasures. That gleam in her eye as she had imagined the glory days of Valyria, long since passed… I fought the sudden chill that went down my spine. Joffrey would keep her from doing something we’d all regret. He would not let Laena become Visenya reborn… or worse, my own twisted version of Tyanna.

“Thank you for your kind words,” said Laenor, smile wide. I forced my own smile to broaden a bit and thanked the lord myself. He ambled off happily. After, Laenor made a show of bending down to tickle Jocelyn’s belly and took the chance to murmur to me. “Your thoughts keep running away with you.”

“I’m exhausted. How much longer do we have to go?” I asked. He sighed and tilted his head up to look at me.

“An hour or so,” he said finally. They would need to be fed in an hour as well, I remembered, gazing down at their peaceful faces. “Do you want an excuse to rest?”

“No,” I said after a moment’s thought. My feet and legs ached fiercely at the denial but I could not afford to look weak, not in front of all the Lords of Westeros assembled before me. “No, I can do this.”

And then the next Lord was upon us. Perhaps my inability to stay standing for as long as I remembered I could was a testament to my current fitness. I had lost baby weight, that much I could definitely say, but I was not at all close to the level of fitness I had achieved before the babes were born.

Perhaps I should take up jogging. A quick run in the morning to wake me up before my ride with Laenor and then my archery practice.

Somehow I made it through, half of my mind occupied with day dreaming of the future and half of it dedicated to not making a fool of myself in front of the many, many lords that had come. Thankfully Jocelyn and Alys remained fast asleep until Marya and Sera were able to whisk them away to a side room.

“That was exhausting,” I groaned as Alys took her feeding. I was too tired to even feel much embarrassment at feeding them in front of six women although they had long since caught on and tried to give me what privacy they could. I could not wait until I could start them on more solid foods. It would not be long now but Alannys had recommended waiting for as long as possible before starting them on the fruit mash Lucerys was already happy to fling at his mother whenever he was given it.

Gods, his first nameday would be next month. How had time passed so soon?

“You looked a thousand leagues away,” chuckled Sera and I blushed.

“By the Seven, tell me I was not that obvious?” I groaned. It set my ladies tittering with amusement.

“Not that obvious to any but those who know you well,” Maris assured me as the others exchanged amused looks. My ladies knew me well by now. They’d seen the worst I could be, my blackest rages and my periods of self-loathing. Somehow I had not scared them off.

“Well, no doubt I shall be in for a lecture if Father noticed,” I sighed, trading Jocelyn for Alys. My firstborn daughter was unhappy in my arms, small chubby hands waving about as she let me know she had not appreciated today’s festivities. Well, she would be back in the manse soon enough and I would be stuck here still, shaking hands and making good impressions so that she would hopefully have a peaceful life.

She took her meal eventually though, wild flailing becoming more and more subdued. By the end of her meal she was fighting to keep her eyes open as I handed her to Laena. My lover took her niece with a smile and began helping her make that final jump into sleep by rocking her back and forth gently as Marya fastened me back into my dress. A feat a lot more impressive than it sounded, trust me on this.

It was a heavy Velaryon guard led by Ser Steffon that eventually accompanied the girls back to the manse. I wanted to go with them to see them safe but I could not. I was sentenced to mingle with the Lords and Ladies of the Realm until my Father said otherwise. He’d been very clear on that regard. Experience with him told me it was because he had something planned but as to what it could be, I had no clue… Joffrey on the other hand.

Joffrey had been of the opinion that one of the knights here might be due an offer of service.

I returned to the hall and set myself to mingling. My usual routine of reassuring what men still called themselves Blacks proudly and seeking to entice more back into Alicent and I’s game rather than the war with Dorne. As usual, it proved virtually fruitless.

“Ah, there you are!” I turned to find myself face to face with Bennard Stark and Medrick Manderly.

“I have not been hiding!” I told them, my smile a little more genuine at finding friendly faces.

“Indeed you have not, Your Grace,” said Ser Medrick with a bow. Rumour put him as well-spoken and charming as his brother yet a fierce knight and fighter. “Might I once again congratulate you on such beautiful babes!”

Had he been part of the viewing? I could not remember.

“I am a mother, Ser Medrick, I never tire of hearing praise for my children.” That set him tittering in amusement and to his credit, he hid that it was false quite well. Bennard was not hiding his impatience to be on to another topic though.

“I have spoken with Lord Desmond regarding your glass,” he whispered. “He is eager to discuss terms.”

Medrick’s smile became slightly strained and I sensed my own had as well. By the Seven, I tired of the North and the endless problems they presented. Perhaps there was a reason Laenor had been so dismissive about bringing them on side early? Perhaps book bias once again pushed me on?

“It is best to discuss the matter with my husband, Ser Medrick. He is the expert at such matters,” I tried to inject some sorrow into my voice at that. Medrick merely shrugged in response and made a show of seeking him out. After receiving directions from myself he departed with one more bow, Bennard on his heels. A problem indeed. Just as well Laenor had been well warned about our Northern suitor. Two seconds later, Laena looped her arm through mine with a small smile on her face.

“If you’re here to tell me it was cruel to set Bennard on Laenor’s tail, I shall not hear it,” I told and she giggled.

“I’m here to ask you to introduce me to someone, actually,” she informed me tartly after she’d recovered herself.

“And who is so high and mighty that Laena Velaryon, rider of the dragon Vhagar, can not simply introduce herself?” I asked. 

“The Lady of the Vale?” There was a hesitance to her voice as I suspected she might be fighting the need to blush.

“Ah,” I said, knowingly. At that she did blush, pulling away to hide her face slightly which sent me into giggles in turn. “Come, let’s find cousin Jeyne and see what trouble we can get into.”

Jeyne had clearly had the best idea of all of us, pulling her loyal lords in as defences whilst she, Jess and Ser Denys took refuge behind the small break in the crowd they provided. They parted easily for Princess Rhaenyra and her goodsister though. Not that Jeyne seemed to mind if her easy smile and the two kisses she dropped onto my cheeks in greeting were anything to go by.

“Jeyne, might I introduce Laena Velaryon? Laena, this is cousin Jeyne!” Laena got half way through a stilted and awkward greeting when Jeyne decided to hells with it and gave her a hug. It was somewhat amusing to see. Jeyne was only just taller than me and where Laena had become used to adjusting to my height she had no clue what to do with someone who was a complete unknown.

Serves her right for inheriting her mother’s height.

“Lady Laena! I have heard so much about you from Rhaenyra!” Laena blushed again and shot me an appraising look. 

“Don’t be so shy, Laena,” I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “She already knows what a dear companion you are to me.”

“Does she?” she asked, rallying herself from the tides of embarrassment. 

“Oh yes!” said Jeyne, interrupting my reply. “She bet you could beat Jess in a fist fight, you see. We spent an hour debating who would win.”

That startled a laugh from her and she relaxed slightly. I still wanted to take her hand and reassure her it was all okay though. 

“I do believe I am not much good in a fight with my hands. I rely on Vhagar too much, I fear,” Laena chuckled, earning a quick smile from Jeyne.

“That was the conclusion we came to as well,” said Jeyne solemnly and I made a show of nodding along. “Although Rhaenyra did not wish to be disloyal to you. Now! Come and meet Jess and Denys.” 

It was a command and we obeyed, not that Jeyne was keen on giving us much choice. She took Laena’s hand and half pulled her over to where Jess and Denys were pretending to chat and hide the fact they were eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Might I introduce you to Ser Denys Corbray, my betrothed and Lady Jessamyn Redfort, my own dear companion.” Thank you, Jeyne. 

“You look much like your brother, my Lady,” said Denys Corbray. “We met briefly when he came to the Vale and we have a mutual acquaintance.”

It was a shame we could not speak openly here, that it must all be done in double speak and innuendo. Laena would do well to simply be able to speak with her… and I am an idiot.

“We were wondering if you might visit before Laena has to fly off to war,” I asked my cousin. “I’m sure we can find Helaena something gainful to do in the meantime.”

“That would be lovely! What do you think Jess? Denys?” Jeyne enthused. 

“Perhaps I could invite Jon. I admit I am eager to meet Ser Laenor in the flesh once again. Jon shared many tales regarding him.” I fought to hide my smile at that and agreed readily. 

“It will be fun!” said Jess, nudging Jeyne excitedly. I might have planned it out a little better with them both but my father parking himself on the raised dais that had been occupied by the twins until recently caught my attention. Indeed, it caught everyone's attention as the vast hall slowly fell silent. I was put in mind of a school assembly with all the shushing going on.

“My Lords and Ladies, as much as I wish it were, this day is not solely about my grandchildren.” A chuckle from the crowd. “For it strikes me that my loyal knights of the Kingsguard are short one member!”

Behind him, the men sworn to him were assembled. The Lord Commander, Lorent Marbrand, and his five subordinates; Erryk Cargyll, Arryk Cargyll, Rickard Thorne, Steffon Darklyn and Willis Fell. Who would join their number? It had the crowd murmuring amongst themselves, theories and speculation briefly running wild until Viserys raised his hands once more.

“So it falls to me to name a new brother of the Kingsguard. One who will be loyal! One who will uphold his oaths!” Oh I wish I had eyes on Alicent right now. She has to be so angry he’s indirectly calling her out again. “Ser Garibald of House Grey, please step forward.”

Huh… that has to be some form of irony, right?


	111. Interlude - Viserys

Ser Garibald would serve him well and, if the Gods were kind, he would serve his daughter well in time. He’d already extracted oaths to that effect from the man. He’d made it clear he would not suffer another Criston Cole. The Kingsguard oath he spoke now was a formality, Ser Garibald had already pledged his life to him. As the knight rose a sworn brother of the Kingsguard and Ser Lorent presented him with his white cloak the Throne room burst into applause.

His daughter seemed puzzled but pleased, he found when his eyes had picked her from the crowd. Mother’s mercy, he thought that his heart might burst open at the sight of her. None could deny she was a Queen in truth. She was made of stern stuff, his Rhaenyra. The Seven knew she had to be. She would be strong enough to lead Westeros, he knew, just as he knew she was strong enough to triumph over those that would deny her the Throne.

He didn’t look at his wife, the smile would waver from his face and he could not afford that. The people must see a composed and calm King, not one that fretted over what part of his family would murder the other. He loved Alicent, he loved her so much it hurt, but he couldn’t trust her anymore. She would sooner kill Rhaenyra than see her crowned. Aegon… no, his son was better than that. That much was obvious now the boy had some space between him and his mother.

Seven save him, why couldn’t he just send her away?

“Your Grace,” murmured Lyonel, into his ear. “We await your signal.”

The crowd were tense again. He’d put about that something else was happening today but had left the rumours deliberately vague. Then he’d tracked down Ser Joffrey and told the man point blank what he intended and demanded he not reveal the matter to Rhaenyra. The man disgusted him, made his skin crawl, but he could see why Rhaenyra kept him around despite his part in the insult that was her marriage. The man was efficient and talented.

He knew he was taking a risk by trusting the man. Rhaenyra did not, as a general rule, like surprises. It may be Joffrey Velaryon would tell her anyway but he hoped not. He thought this might be one surprise she enjoyed.

“Good work Lyonel,” he whispered back. “I shall begin soon.”

The man strode off, courtiers parting before him. The Seven bless Lyonel. He did not know where he would be without him. Still Otto Hightower’s puppet King no doubt. It was Lyonel’s capability that had made it safe to banish the man after he’d been caught haranguing his daughter. Another thing to feel guilty over, he reflected as his eyes found her again.

She had taken up conversation with her kinswoman, Jeyne Arryn. The past seemed intent on taunting him today. He should have put his foot down… he should have brought the girl to King’s Landing when Aemma had requested it. Otto had convinced him not to, that he would be making trouble with a loyal vassal unnecessarily. He’d agreed at the time, too frightened his cousin would come and take what was hers to realise how badly he was being manipulated.

Well, Rhaenys would have what she wanted now. Her blood on the Throne. Her son and his daughter. The whole matter left a bitter taste in his mouth. Had he known then what he knew now he would have told Rhaenys to go hang! Instead he had to watch that poor sodding excuse for a man mock his daughter with his every bre-

No. He could not get angry now. The courtiers were like sharks. They would sense his anger like blood in the water.

Laenor Velaryon dishonoured his daughter with his… perversions. He could no longer save her from that. She had made it clear in that tent nearly a year ago now. To strike at the Velaryons was to strike at her.

Oh how he wished it was not so. Not even Rhaenys in all her fury would stop him from stripping the bastard from her side. She had not known, she had assured him of that and he believed her. Yet he knew, deep within his gut, that even had she known she would not have told him, would not have acted to spare his daughter from the insult.

A Velaryon in all but birth, the thought was bitter in its clarity. He wished he could have the cousin of his youth back, the wild girl that would sneak into the training yard and play at being a knight, not what she had become under Corlys’ watchful eye.

“My lords and ladies, if I might have your attention once more!” At his call, the Throne room was silent once more, all focused on him. His smile was genuine then. “I have yet another appointment to make!”

That had them whispering in surprise. He felt his smile widen a little bit as he found his daughter in the crowd again. She was looking apprehensive. He hated that. He hated the feeling of knowing she did not trust him.

And why should she? He had drowned himself in wine, food and women. He had ignored his duty to marry Alicent, he had put her in the thick of a political mess with no thought for her safety or well-being. He had ignored her pleas to spare her the grief when Aegon had been born… he had… he had raised his hands to her...

He should have married Laena Velaryon. He had realised that when Rhaenyra was four and ten and begging to be allowed to visit Driftmark. So many problems could have been averted had he just married Rhaenys’ girl. Rhaenyra could have married as she pleased, as opposed to a husband that would never please her.

Oh, he had heard her protestations otherwise. He had never been so proud of her before that duel, her face set in defiance. He hadn’t even been able to detect the usual signs of her lies or acting. She knew what would come from not binding the Velaryons to them in marriage and she was willing to make the sacrifice for him and for their house.

Yes, he should have married Lady Laena. Rhaenyra would have loved having her as a mother, the Seven knew they were close enough friends now. She would not need to go to war every time she came to eat a meal at least.

He should have been the one to sacrifice himself on the altar of Velaryon ambition. He should have put up with whatever whispers Lady Laena wished to fill his ears with. He had thought Alicent to be different yet he wondered now… who was it better to climb into bed with? Otto or Corlys?

Otto had seemed his saviour in those days after the Great Council, ever helpful and ever sure that he could prevent Rhaenys from rising up. Yet Otto had set out to rule him all the same.

Corlys was arrogant, ever grasping for what was not his and as fickle as the seas he so loved. He’d sought to seduce Rhaenys for her claim and when had that had not worked he had worked to destabilise Baelon’s rule. That had seen him married to Aemma and Daemon promised to Rhea Royce, a desperate move from his Grandfather to prevent such a plot from succeeding.

He’d married Alicent and gotten Otto as a goodfather, how much worse could marrying Lady Laena be?

Daemon would never have even dared to lay a finger on the girl if she had been his wife. The fact that she had been offered once was probably what had drawn him to her in the first place. His brother was never content to let him have things. He always had to take them, twist them and poison them. It was his fault she’d fallen into Daemon’s line of sight.

Mother’s Mercy, he owed the girl something at least. He owed his nephew something he could call his own. He’d been a piss poor brother but he could be a better uncle. He’d play the old man doting upon the next generation, he’d make sure his brother's son was raised to be a better man...

“There will be need for strong guidance in the months to come! Strong guidance I can not provide from the deserts of Dorne!” It was best not to get too lost in thought. Especially not about his traitorous brother. In the corner of his eye, he saw the servants moving into position under the watchful eye of his Hand. “So I must appoint one worthy to lead the Seven Kingdoms whilst I bring Fire and Blood to the Martells!”

That got a cheer. War with the Dornish always would. Curse Otto. He had been so sure the man grieved for his son, that he had come because Gwayne needed his Father. Curse that cold-blooded man to the depths of the Seven Hells.

“Who is worthy of leading the Seven Kingdoms though!?” The brighter ones already knew and eyes were shifting from him to her. He watched her shift uneasily under the scrutiny. It was a slight thing but he saw it. She liked to pretend nothing touched her but he was her Father, he knew her tells. Indeed, when the eyes of the throne room turned to her at his expansive gesture, nothing showed on her face but a knowing smile. “Who better to lead it now than your future Queen!?”

She stepped forward and the crowd parted around her, cheering her name. Almost all with no visible discomfort. Ser Jaremy had been instructed to observe who was less pleased with this turn of events. Yet even hints of the factions still could not prevent him from beaming in pride once more. He wanted to weep when she met his eyes with a pleased but confused smile that was as genuine as his pride.

At least he could still win those from her. He had not driven her too far away, despite his many mistakes. He would have to keep trying to make amends, to keep winning those smiles from her.

“Father?” she murmured as she reached him. Lyonel’s men were moving speedily now and he saw her eyes widen as she laid eyes on what they bore. He felt the tension in the room soar as everyone came to the same realisation she had a moment later.

And he felt his wife’s eyes on the Crown.

His daughter had once confided to him that she had wanted to find Silverwing that day she had escaped to Dragonstone. Well, he could not give her the Good Queen’s mount but he could give her his Grandmother’s Crown.

He took it gently from the cushion and marvelled at it for a moment. It was much like his, although the band was thinner and the gems less ostentatious. It was no less beautiful though. He cradled it between his fingers, turned back and had to stop himself from laughing at her expression. It was rare he saw her dumbstruck and yet… Oh Rhaenyra…

“Rhaenyra Targaryen!” She almost jumped at his booming voice and he hated that as well. She always flinched when men yelled. When he yelled. His brother would pay for that one day. She had never been so jumpy before that night. “Kneel.”

She did so, one smooth motion that demonstrated her grace.

“I name you my voice so that all shall obey you as they would me!” he called. This time he did meet his wife’s eyes. She would be on Dragonstone and he doubted even she could cause trouble there but he wanted her to understand; child or not, this was her last chance. He held those green eyes as he lowered the crown onto his daughter’s head and he did not break that gaze until Rhaenyra rose.

The Throne Room erupted into applause and shouts of his daughter’s name.

“Thank you,” she said, small smile playing about her lips. “I shall try my best not to burn the city down in your absence, Father.”

“See that you don’t,” he told her, his voice stern. Then he gave her a warm smile. One she returned with ease. “Although if you do, be sure to get Fleabottom. If we are to rebuild the whole blasted city, we should at least try to make it smell better.”

The laugh was genuine as she turned to face the hall, linking her arm through his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a break from posting for a week from this point onward and then we'll have the timeskip chapters.


	112. Timeskip 1

An excerpt from the text _Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken_ written by Maester Alek, 209AC

_“… as expected by all architects of the Conquest of Dorne, Lord Aron Dayne was quick to reject the initial terms offered by the Iron Throne. Although the offer was beyond generous, there was a great desire for war amongst the people of Dorne. Nearly all believed that winter and the political situation within the Seven Kingdoms would destroy the invaders long before Sunspear was forced to yield._

_Indeed, for a while it seemed that the Dornish may have been correct in their assessment of their foes. Over three hundred Lords of Westeros answered the calls to war and it took months for all to be in position in spite of the warning all had received. Yet the bad luck afflicting the armies of King Viserys was not to stop there. It had been the hope of the King to launch his invasion the moment the Dornish rejected his terms yet winter storms prevented the launch of the fleet for a full five months. It was well into the year of 117AC that King Viserys came to besiege Yronwood._

_Events were not proceeding any smoother for the armies gathered under the command of Prince Laenor either. No sooner were the terms rejected that both assembled armies found themselves under assault by Dornish raiding parties under the command of Lord Walter Wyl. Prince Laenor proved his worth as a warrior during this time and gained the respect of many Lords in his defence of Nightsong._

_Yet Prince Laenor’s forces at Nightsong were not the worst hit by Dornish raiding. The events of history tell us that Lord Walter Wyl was a cunning man with a grasp of strategy and politics rarely seen. Whilst his raids at Nightsong were numerous, the true force of his raiders was brought to bear against the armies assembled at Horn Hill. The forces there were already in disarray with Green and Black loyalists being forced into close quarters exacerbated by the fact that Lady Laena Velaryon, the last rider of the dragon Vhagar, had no direct control over the forces. That honour had been granted to Ormund Hightower, a knight of some renown and the heir to Lord Garmon Hightower. _

_From the moment of the first raids, the forces at Horn Hill fractured and Ser Ormund did not prove up to the task of bringing them into line. As such the defence was limited and with each successful raid, pressure on Ser Ormund mounted. During this period, Ser Ormund’s forces would lose a full fifth of their number and Lady Laena Velaryon would take a wound that would trouble her for years to come._

_However, the luck the Dornish had experienced so far was to run out during the second moon of 117AC when King Viserys’ forces finally crossed the Sea of Dorne. Lord Qyle Yronwood was quick to contest the landing but his raids did little to prevent King Viserys from landing his full force and marching on Yronwood proper. Unwilling to face the Red Queen and her rider, Rhaenys Targaryen, Lord Qyle abandoned his seat and joined forces with Walter Wyl, intent on using the Boneway as a protection from the Targaryen Dragons._

_It was at this point the trap that Prince Laenor had laid for the Dornish became apparent as both his forces and the forces of King Viserys moved into the Boneway to crush the Dornish opposition. The trap was so complete that when Lord Qyle and Lord Walter attempted to dissolve their troops and take refuge in the Red Mountains as they had done countless times before they found themselves quite unable to do so. The Falcons, under the command of Lord Denys Waynwood, and the Desert Wolves, under the command of Bennard Stark, served to pick off any fleeing or deserting soldiers. _

_With the trap sprung, the forces of the Iron Throne looked set to have earned an unprecedented victory over the Dornish on their own soil. Lord Walter Wyl was to prove once again, however, that his black reputation was well given. On the morn that the Dornish and the invaders looked set to clash, Lord Walter Wyl betrayed Lord Qyle Yronwood and used his destruction to cover his and his loyalist’s escape into the Red Mountains._

_Despite that setback, Wyl and Yronwood were taken and the road to Dorne had been opened.”_

An excerpt from the text _Bastard Born_ written by Rue, 155AC

_“Addam and Alyn of Hull were first found and brought to the attention of the court by Queen Alicent Hightower. She was on the island to prepare for birth and recover from it. She’d brought many ladies with her and she was soon a familiar sight about the island as she rode with them even as heavily pregnant as she was._

_After Princess Viserra, the one people would call the Princess of Peace, was born Queen Alicent found the two boys and their mother accidentally when her spies found the boys were tutored by a man hired by Ser Joffrey Velaryon, a highly placed supporter of Princess Rhaenyra. _

_Curious about why the boys were so interesting, Queen Alicent paid a visit to the boys mother, Marilda of Hull, and demanded she name the father of the two bastard boys. When Marilda refused and was moved away afterwards, Queen Alicent sent her many spies to find out why._

_Her spies questioned those who had known them on Hull and found that until Princess Rhaenyra had taken custody of the two boys they had been cared for by Lord Corlys Velaryon. When rumours spread of that, Princess Rhaenyra claimed that they were the bastards of her goodfather. Lord Corlys backed her up and formally claimed the two as his own making them Addam and Alyn Waters._

_Queen Alicent was not happy with the idea and wrote Rhaenys Targaryen about the boys. When she read the letter, she is said to have laughed it off and said “I married that old bastard knowing what he was like” to her cousin, King Viserys._

_In the third moon of 117AC, a new rumour was widely believed to be the truth about the boys. They were not, as Princess Rhaenyra claimed, the children of Lord Corlys Velaryon but were instead the bastards of his son, Ser Laenor. As the boys got older, their looks only increased this belief as it’s said they looked greatly alike to Ser Laenor._

_Princess Rhaenyra was furious about the rumour and publicly referred to Queen Alicent as an ‘interfering bitch’ many times afterwards. Anyone who mentioned the rumour to her fell quickly into disfavour which was taken as further proof that Ser Laenor had fathered the boys.”_

It should be noted that ‘Hard as Oak’, despite being considered as colorful and unreliable as 'Bastard-Born' by the Citadel, and 'The Dragonknight’, which is considered to be reliable and factual by the Citadel, support the official claim that Lord Corlys fathered both Addam and Alyn of Hull.


	113. Timeskip 2

An excerpt from the text _Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken_ written by Maester Alek, 209 AC

_“With Lord Qyle Yronwood’s capture and defeat in the Boneway, the forces of the Iron Throne now held both Wyl and Yronwood. Yet they were not uncontested in their control. Skyreach, Kingsgrave and Blackmont had yet to fall. This would not be the responsibility of Prince Laenor or King Viserys, however, for within a sennight of taking Yronwood and capturing its lord, King Viserys’ army began its advance into Dorne proper._

_Its first target was to be the lands under the dominion of House Wells, the first of Princess Aliandra’s loyalists to come under attack by the invading force. In contrast to Lord Walter Wyl’s aggressive strategy, the forces of Lord Gerris Wells fell back and yielded their lands with only minor raiding. King Viserys’ armies were not to occupy the castle however. After a few days had been spent ensuring the army was resupplied courtesy of Lord Corlys Velaryon’s fleet, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen destroyed the outer walls, leaving little to no fortification behind for Lord Wells to reclaim._

_In the fourth moon of 117AC, as King Viserys moved further into Dorne towards his next target of Drinkwater, the forces at Horn Hill marched into Prince’s Pass. Fearing a similar trap that had brought Lord Walter and Lord Qyle low, the forces of Lord Manfrey Fowler split into three separate armies. When Ser Ormund attempted a similar strategy to Prince Laenor and employed irregulars formed from men knowledgeable about the Pass to prevent them from splitting entirely, his forces were routed and Lord Tarly was slain._

_It was only the intervention of Lady Laena Velaryon that saw Lord Tarly’s body and his Valyrian steel blade Heartsbane recovered from the field, and a third of his irregulars escaping the Dornish ambush they had unwittingly sprung. Lord Manfrey Fowler and the vast majority of his men were nevertheless able to escape Ser Ormund’s forces. Having secured the Pass, however disastrously, Ser Ormund marched on to seize Blackmont._

_It was here that the cracks in the facade of united leadership were to once again appear. After sacking the castle, Ser Ormund ordered Lady Laena to destroy it in its entirety. Unhappy with such orders, Lady Laena refused and was backed by several Black Lords. Mutterings of a plot by Ser Ormund to weaken those with Black leanings first arose during this tense stand-off with many pointing to Lord Tarly’s death as proof of this. _

_The stalemate was only broken by the arrival of Prince Laenor himself with grim news. As King Viserys’ forces had prepared to take Drinkwater, their mother had been attacked and was badly wounded. Although details must have been scarce about the event at the time, surviving records written in King Viserys’ hand tell us that Lady Rhaenys was ambushed by a man convincingly disguised as a soldier in Wendwater livery. Although she is said to have killed the man with nothing more than a dagger, she suffered several wounds in fighting off her attacker._

_With Princess Rhaenys unable to fly Meleys in battle, King Viserys, taking the advice of Prince Laenor, was forced to alter his battle plan. The Prince would join King Viserys’ forces and support the main army as it carried on its march to threaten Sunspear itself. Lady Laena Velaryon would be based at Yronwood as her brother had been with a full third of the forces there moving under Ser Ormund’s command so that he could continue his subjugation of the Stony Dornish._

_It is rumoured that during this meeting, Prince Laenor and Ser Ormund nearly came to blows and that such a fight was only averted by a surprise attack on the outer defences of the camp. After the attack was repelled, Prince Laenor refused to speak with Ser Ormund once more and instead relayed his orders through the newly made Lord Alan Tarly._

_By the end of the Seventh Moon of 117AC, the reshuffle of the invading forces was done and the stage for the Massacre at Ghost Hill was set.”_

And excerpt from the text _The Seven Ladies of Rhaenyra Targaryen_, by Meredyth Stokeworth , 190 AC

_“The seventh and last of Princess Rhaenyra’s Ladies is considered one of the oddest appointments that Princess Rhaenyra would ever make! When one takes into account those she raised later, this is quite the feat. If my great aunt’s letters are to be believed the event that saw her forge her friendship with the Princess was quite unique indeed. Below is an excerpt of her letter concerning the matter!_

_‘To my most noble Father_

_I am praying most every day for your safety as you fight alongside our King. Lady Falena and I have prevailed upon Septon Patrek to lead daily prayer groups beseeching the Seven that the matter with Dorne be resolved quickly._

_No doubt you have already heard the rumours surrounding the attack on Princess Rhaenyra. It was cowardly and ill-done. All in King’s Landing are in uproar. I can only dread to imagine what would have happened should the villains have succeeded. In truth, it came perilously close to being so. Had it not been for Lady Frey I fear our Princess may have been struck down!_

_Princess Rhaenyra has named her a lady-in-waiting to join us whilst her husband is with you on campaign. Father, I fear it is uncharitable of me to dislike such an appointment after she so bravely saved our Princess’s life but I can not help but mislike my new compatriot. Sabitha is rude and unladylike in the extreme. Just yesterday she attended on the Princess in mail! Mail!’_

_The rest of the letter goes into more personal details surrounding my great Aunt’s courtship with her future husband Ser Byren Hastwyck and the ongoing troubles that Lady Maris Grafton was having in regards to her marriage to Ser Harwin Strong. In a most concerning turn of events, it ends with a mention of the villain Larys Strong being willing to help them marry despite Lord Lyonel’s refusal to bless the union._

_Regardless, it can be understood that even from the beginning that the appointment of Sabitha Frey was as divisive as it was bizarre.”_


	114. Timeskip 3

An excerpt from the text _Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken_ written by Maester Alek, 209AC

_“… thus the forces of King Viserys and Prince Laenor were able to secure Godsgrace with little opposition. As before, they were swift to dismantle the castle’s defences and prepare to move on to threaten Sunspear proper, in a move that would hopefully see the war ended._

_Yet as the King and Prince prepared to bring the Conquest of Dorne to a decisive close, a most terrible act had been set in motion. Many historians have argued over the causes of the Massacre at Ghost Hill. Some more popular theories lean on the black reputation Lady Laena Velaryon garnered later on in her life, others point towards vengeful lords unwilling to follow the word of a ‘mere’ woman. Regardless of its reported cause, all agree that the senseless slaughter of House Toland was a dark day in the history of Westeros._

_What we do know is that the confusion caused by Prince Laenor’s reshuffling of the forces to account for his mother’s absence in the war effort meant that somehow several Lords who would name themselves proud Greens ended up in the army supported by Lady Laena Velaryon. When Prince Laenor and King Viserys began their march along the Scourge towards Godsgrace, that force left Yronwood and headed for their targets of Ladybright Castle and Ghost Hill, achieving excellent time by using the fleet’s support to bypass the already taken castles of Wells, Drinkwater and The Tor._

_As House Wells, Drinkwater and Jordayne before them had, the denizens of Ladybright Castle had also fallen back to Sunspear. The occupation there was concluded quickly and the army began its fateful march onto Ghost Hill. House Toland had not fled in the face of the oncoming army. Survivors have stated that Lord Allard Toland had heard of the King Viserys’ offer of surrender and Lord Aron Dayne’s planned response in turn, resolving to emulate Princess Aliandra’s Regent and surrender Ghost Hill to the invaders._

_When Vhagar plunged the castle into shadow, Lord Allard threw open his gates and prepared to negotiate his terms. Multiple accounts have risen as to what, precisely, began the slaughter. Some claim that Vhagar was the first to attack, letting loose a great belch of flame and igniting a tower. Others claim that a Dornish archer, panicked by Vhagar’s presence, shot at one of the approaching lords. Most official reports blame Ser Dickon Bulwer for the initial fighting, however. _

_It is said that no sooner had Lord Allard come into view that Ser Dickon ordered his archers to loose and slay the unarmed Lord. What occurred afterwards well earned its moniker. By the time the sun set, only two members of House Toland were left alive along with fifteen men-at-arms and seven servants who had managed to barricade themselves in a wine cellar._

_The party would only emerge on the assurances from Lady Laena herself that they would not be harmed. Her protection of the survivors was met with much consternation by those who had joyfully taken part in the massacre._

_Once the killing was done, the forces sent to secure Ghost Hill split into two factions. The so-called ‘Green Men’ led by Ser Dickon Bulwer and the ‘Queen’s Men’ led by Lord Alan Tarly. Fearing the army would turn on itself, Lady Laena Velaryon is said to have sent word to her brother to bring the dissidents back into line and reappoint a clear commander of the men. Yet despite seeking her brother’s aid to peacefully resolve the conflict, by sunrise the next morning most of the so-called ‘Green Men’ were dead by her order._

_The version of events depicted in Lord Alan Tarly’s memoirs are widely accepted to be true accounts of what happened next. He claims that the letter Lady Laena sent to her brother was sent in good faith. Yet as the army settled in for the long wait for a reply, one of the two surviving children of House Toland were slain. There were no witnesses to the murder. Upon discovering the body, Lord Tarly writes that Lady Laena flew into a towering rage and ordered for Ser Dickon’s ‘Green Men’ to be seized. _

_Lord Tarly goes on to write, quite proudly, that it was he who led the attack on the ‘Green Men’ and that it was he who personally brought Ser Dickon to face Lady Laena. He does not write, however, of what came next. Only that by morn, Lady Laena had ordered that most of the ‘Green Men’ be given to Vhagar’s flames…”_

An excerpt from the text _Dark Sister: A Dark Tale of a Dark Blade_ written by Maester Gilbert, 313AC

_“… with the defeat of Daemon Targaryen and the disaster at Bloodstone, Dark Sister was thought lost to House Targaryen. _

_It was luck, and perhaps the blessing of the Seven, that saw it return to its rightful owners once more during the Conquest of Dorne. As Prince Laenor Velaryon, husband of the future Queen Rhaenyra, laid siege to The Tor with his goodfather, he led a counter-raid against Dornish forces. During this minor skirmish, he slew several men in single combat. Afterwards, to the surprise of all his men, he recovered that lost blade from the corpse of one of his opponents._

_When the Prince sought to return it to King Viserys, his goodfather announced he could think of no one more worthy to wield the blade and cleanse the stain of dishonour its previous owner had brought upon it. Thus Dark Sister passed to its next bearer. _

_Prince Laenor would go on to wield the blade for a decade and a half in the service of his wife. Over this time, many would complain that the Prince was not worthy of such a sword. History tells us that Prince Laenor was only of middling skill with a sword and certainly possessed none of the great talent that Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon would go on to develop._

_It is oft rumoured that after the knighting of Prince Aegon in 122AC,Queen Alicent pressed his claim to the sword to her husband, only to be rebuffed quite harshly. Others argue that this event is misattributed to Prince Aegon and that it was Prince Aemond, knighted in 124AC, that the Queen attempted to acquire the blade for. Whatever the truth of that matter is, the blade would not pass out of Prince Laenor’s hands until 131AC, when he granted it to his eldest trueborn child, Princess Jocelyn.”_


	115. Timeskip 4

An excerpt from _Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken_ by Maester Alek written, 209AC

_“…Lord Aron Dayne officially surrendered to King Viserys Targaryen during the Second Moon of 118AC as the King’s armies moved into position to threaten Sunspear itself._

_There were many at the time, mostly Westerosi Lords, that sneered at the decision, yet history has shown us that Lord Dayne was every inch the equal of Lord Walter Wyl in the field of political manoeuvring. Lord Dayne ended the war believing that the loyalists of Princess Aliandra had not taken a single loss and that Prince Garin’s supporters had been utterly decimated. Word of the Massacre at Ghost Hill was yet to reach Dornish ears and news of the disaster nearly derailed the negotiation of terms between the King and Lord Dayne, who was said to have called a halt to talks for three whole days after he was informed._

_Nevertheless, even with that dark news hanging over them, peace was declared between the Seven Kingdoms and Dorne with only the terms of Dorne joining the Realm remaining to be laid out. Lord Aron Dayne was not to receive the generous terms that he had been offered at the start of the war, however, despite his optimism that he could yet receive them if he did not personally take the field. Not even Dornish anger at the events at Ghost Hill would see King Viserys bend in his demands. Peace talks would stretch on for months as Lord Dayne and King Viserys each brought forth their proposals and counter-proposals._

_The ‘Treaty of the Shadow City’ was the subject of much debate and scandal amongst the lords of both sides of the conflict at that time, and even as the treaty was signed, the war between the Princess and the Queen was beginning once again. Many ‘Greens’ claimed the terms were much too lenient. They pointed to the centuries of raiding endured by the Stormlands and the Reach and called for punishment. The fact that Princess Rhaenyra’s Black Lords supported the treaty as fair and just seemed to only worsen matters._

_Yet the Black Lords were not to entirely have their way. The first of the terms presented to the Dornish called for a temporary governor, with the matter to be revisited when Princess Aliandra reached her majority, to be appointed by the Crown to ensure the Dornish were not rearming for rebellion. It was stated that Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent both petitioned King Viserys to appoint their chosen candidate, but it was Queen Alicent that would emerge victorious when Ser Gwayne Hightower was installed in the position._

_The rest of the terms forced on the defeated Dornish were equally as harsh. The lands historically referred to as Wyl were seized from Dornish control and granted to Lord Borros Baratheon. Hostages were taken from every major Dornish family, including the last surviving scion of House Toland, with Ghost Hill itself falling under the control of Myles Sand, the late Lord Allard’s bastard son. Perhaps the most painful term of all was the fostering of young Princess Aliandra with Princess Rhaenyra. Princess Aliandra was Lord Aron Dayne’s niece and only the reassurance that she would keep her title as Princess of Dorne would persuade him to agree to the fostering._

_Yet the Dornish were not entirely humiliated in the negotiations. As mentioned above, they were able to keep their title of Prince of Dorne. They also won financial aid from the Crown to rebuild their shattered economy, and King Viserys agreed to officially take responsibility for the debt they had incurred with the Iron Bank. Yet these concessions would not raise nearly as much clamour from the Lords of Westeros as the final one._

_King Viserys had decided on a suitable candidate for the hand of Princess Aliandra. Lucerys Velaryon.”_

An excerpt from _The Black Queen: A True Tale of Rhaenyra the Reformer_ by Prince Gaemon Targaryen written, 230AC

_“The reunion of Prince Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra was so fraught with emotion that it moved many observers to tears. Despite what certain scurrilous rumours might have you believe, dear reader, Prince Laenor was in love with Princess Rhaenyra and had been since they had met as children. The moment the war with Dorne was over he mounted the dragon Seasmoke and flew to be in her arms once more. Laena Velaryon, another victim of later politics and dramatisation, was similarly keen to reunite with her own husband, Joffrey Velaryon. Their reunion was more private but no less touching._

_The two dragon riders brought with them Princess Aliandra, who was to be raised alongside the Princess’s own children. A wise decision that was later revealed to have been suggested by my illustrious ancestor, Queen Rhaenyra herself. Although in her own memoirs, that only those of the Royal Family are privy to, she explains that the Princess of Dorne did not settle well into her household at first, frequently throwing tantrums and demanding to be taken back to her mother and uncle._

_This can easily be forgiven, however, as children of three are hardly able to recognise the honour that comes with a royal fostering. It should be noted as well that Princess Aliandra would later become a great friend of Princess Alyssa Targaryen, showing that she did come to realise what an opportunity she had been granted._

_Yet this book is not about Princess Aliandra, dear reader, it is about the first Queen of Westeros! A remarkable woman much maligned by the rumours of cruelty and tyranny brought against her after the ‘Dance of Dragons’, the contents of falsified letters created solely to besmirch the good name of her true love, Prince Laenor, and the almost criminal character assassination of her most loyal friends Joffrey and Laena Velaryon!_

_We must let the actions of both Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Laenor during their reunion speak for themselves. I say, dear reader, that they shout the truth, for nine months after Princess Rhaenyra greeted her husband at the Dragonpit on his return from Dorne, Prince Aemon Targaryen was born.”_


	116. Timeskip 5

An excerpt from the text _The Vulture Kings_ by Mara Ladybright written, 245AC

_“The Third Vulture King is the subject of quite some debate with current affairs as they are. Whereas modern scholars agree that the first two men who bore that name were dedicated to Dorne and her people, the third Vulture King is shrouded in scandal. The first of these great scandals being that after taking the identity of the legendary outlaw, he did not cast aside his name. Whilst even Dornish records struggle to reveal the true names of the first and second Vulture Kings, the name of the third is known to all. Lord Walter Wyl._

_After the Conquest of Dorne, House Wyl was attainted in a declaration signed by King Viserys and Lord Aron Dayne both. The former Lord Walter himself was declared an outlaw for his desertion in the Battle of the Boneway and Lord Qyle Yronwood was said to have promised his treasury and the hand of his daughter to any man that brought him his former ally’s head._

_Many people argue that his taking of the mantle of Vulture King was an act of political genius. That he declared himself, like all others who had taken the mantle, loyal to Dorne and Dorne alone. I would posit that this explanation fails to truly explain his motivations. _

_Walter Wyl had broken Nymeria’s treaty and left an ally to his destruction in order to save himself. His act of ‘crowning’ himself as Vulture King was one of desperation. A way to not only justify the raiding and foraging he needed to perpetrate to feed his army but to give himself a way to strike back at those he thought had wronged him by failing to rise up in response to Lord Aron Dayne’s surrender to King Viserys._

_It should be quite telling that his first and the subsequent majority of his raids were carried out on Dornish targets. During the year of 118AC, he struck twice at Yronwood lands, once at the lands of the Manwoodys and no less than three times in the lands ruled by the Fowlers of Skyreach. Contrast this to the mere two raids he carried out in his own former lands, now governed by Bennard Stark and what remained of his Desert Wolves. In fact, he would go on to nearly decimate the lands of Yronwood and Skyreach over the next six years. These are the actions of a man that blamed Lord Fowler and Lord Yronwood for their losses and capitulation, not those of a cool political actor._

_Indeed, if even more proof is required, he never struck into the Stormlands proper until he declared his allegiance to Prince Garin in 124AC. For six years, Walter Wyl played the vengeful Bandit King, but only then did he decide to retroactively justify and legitimise the crimes he committed against Dorne and her people with the formidable political mind he had demonstrated during the Conquest._

_Walter Wyl is not, as some modern demagogues like to claim, a symbol of a better Dorne. He is a symbol of our worst natures, a symbol of anger and spite and hatred. He is a symbol of our divisions…”_

An excerpt from the text _The Three Journeys_ by Lyra Cargyll written, 175AC

_“In contrast to her later journeys, Laena Velaryon’s first journey is exceedingly well documented. Modern scholars even have an idea of why she began her journey when she did. In the, admittedly oft-contested, letters between Prince Laenor Velaryon and Ser Joffrey Velaryon we know that Ser Joffrey and Lady Laena began trying to conceive a new babe after her return from the Conquest of Dorne._

_Unlike Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Laenor, however, they were not successful and fears began to be raised that the difficulty they were having stemmed from the well known effects of Hag’s Grasp. They ceased their attempts after six months, as Princess Rhaenyra grew great with child once more. In Ser Joffrey’s letters, he writes that Lady Laena found it hard to see her closest friend begrudgingly accepting what she desired most but, as mentioned before, the letters are often contested in their validity._

_To summarise that first journey, during the eighth moon of 118AC, Laena Velaryon flew from King’s Landing to Runestone with full permission to investigate the runes etched into its foundations from Lady Rhea Royce. Lady Laena stayed there for just over a moon’s turn and produced one of the most accurate recordings of the runes to date. Records from this period in Runestone also tell us she borrowed numerous tomes from the library, some of which were never returned. She did not depart the Vale after concluding her business at Runestone, instead flying Vhagar across the Mountains of the Moon, seemingly at random. Many speculate she sought the hidden valleys of the Mountain clans. Indeed, the later discovery of pre-Andal settlements in those valleys seems to confirm this, and claims have been made of recent human and draconic presence in those settlements. _

_From the Vale, Lady Laena flew North. She did not receive a warm welcome at Winterfell, if Ser Joffrey’s letters on the matter are to be believed, despite the rich gifts she offered for a chance to examine the castle proper. She stayed less than a week at the capital of the North before flying to the Wall. Here, her gifts were gratefully accepted and she stayed for quite some time, often questioning the stewards and builders. We do not know if Lady Velaryon attempted to take her mount beyond the Wall, although later claims from Criston Cole, who would go on to become First Ranger, says that she did not, having been warned that to attempt to do so was to invite disaster. He did not say who had warned her or what form this disaster may take._

_Her next flight took her to the Iron Islands where she stayed for a week as a guest of Hagen Greyjoy. We can only speculate what she wished to examine there but her haste in departing the Islands requires none. Hagen Greyjoy was in declining health but he was no less the lecherous man he was reputed to be. Continuing her odd pilgrimage about the legends of Westeros, Lady Velaryon is rumoured to have visited the God’s Eye and Harrenhal. Records from the great castle have never confirmed it, so the matter remains shrouded in mystery._

_We do know that, whether she visited the God’s Eye or not, her next point was the Hightower. An odd choice of destination given that she and Ser Ormund Hightower were reputed to hate one another. Yet Lady Laena won a month in the High Tower from Lord Garmon. Ser Ormund wrote to his cousin, Queen Alicent, with a detailed report on the matter. He claims that she examined the Tower from top to bottom but seemed most interested in the black stone that forms the base of the ancient structure. Ser Ormund goes on to complain that Lady Velaryon refused the services of maids and stewards and was secretive, almost verging on paranoia, during her stay. When her month was up, Lady Laena is said to have left without any complaint._

_Her final stop on her journey was with her kinsman, Lord Borros Baratheon at Storm’s End. Like Lady Rhea Royce had, he reportedly gave her full access to the fortress and she was keen to take him up on his offer only returning to Princess Rhaenyra’s side after three months spent studying Storm’s End…”_


	117. Timeskip 6

An excerpt from the text _The Silver Falcon_ by Maester Godric written, 219AC

_“… Lady Jeyne Arryn would stay in King’s Landing for some time after the Conquest of Dorne was brought to a close, staying with her cousin Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen until she was great with child once more. It is thought she intended to witness the birth of Prince Aemon, wanting to support her beloved kinswoman, before returning to the Vale for her own wedding._

_Yet as winter wore on, Lady Arryn would be forced to return alongside her Falcons as the Mountain Clans, much reduced by a bitter winter with no end in sight, began desperately raiding any target they could reach. Even ancient fortifications that had stood against the onslaught for thousands of years were feeling the strain of the Mountain Clans’ death throes, and sacked farmsteads, burned villages and looted convoys became common sights within the Vale. Matters only seemed to escalate; Redfort was nearly burned in early 118AC, Wickenden barely fought off a raid a month later, and Lord Gawen Corbray was attacked, and his guard slain, within sight of the walls at Strongsong. Even the Bloody Gate suffered a raid, so bold were the Mountain Clans in that period._

_Yet before the Vale could raise its banners in earnest, politics dictated that there was a more important matter to attend to. The marriage of Ser Denys Corbray and Lady Jeyne Arryn. It was said to be a lavish affair, attended by no less than five Princesses and, one might argue as Princess Rhaenyra was heavily pregnant, one Prince. Even Lady Rhea Royce was recalled from King’s Landing to witness the affair, bringing along her firstborn son, Yohn._

_The grand tourney held afterwards was no less lavish than the ceremony and feast that preceded it. Yet where many may have grumbled at the cost in the face of renewed raiding and the sheer toll of winter, Lady Arryn was quick to reassure them and lay the foundations for the claiming of her title of ‘The Silver Falcon’. Using surveys taken in ancient times, Lady Jeyne had negotiated a significant loan with which to found silver mines in the Mountain of the Moon after the winter’s end._

_It did not escape the notice of many that a significant portion of the mountains said to contain the rich deposits of minerals were placed in areas claimed by Arryn Kings long dead with ancient decrees. Ancient decrees that Lady Arryn made clear still applied. Despite that brief political upset, it was clear that in a few short years Lady Arryn had gone from barely maintaining control of the Vale in the face of those that would support her kinsman to undeniably ruling it in truth…”_

An excerpt from the text _An Age of Science_ by Wisdom Harlan written, 299AC

_“… there is evidence that ‘Ether’ was used in minor surgeries performed by Maester Gerardys on Dragonstone as he was developing the techniques of administering it. Yet it faced its first true test on the twelfth day of the fifth moon in the year 119AC. Keen scholars of medicine will note that this date is not long after the discovery of the properties of Iodine or, to give it its common name, Dragon Salt. This is the most likely theory as to why Maester Gerardys was not present in King’s Landing and why events were allowed to develop as they did._

_Regardless, records kept by Grand Maester Mellos show that Princess Rhaenyra visited him no less than three times in the preceding month complaining of pain in her fingers, broken by her Uncle in a fit of rage years ago and ill-healed in the aftermath by Grand Maester Runciter. The Grand Maester, in his own notes, dismisses the pain as a product of the Princess’s broken fingers reacting badly to the ongoing winter, which grew more bitter as spring failed to arrive. _

_As time went on, the Princess fell ill with ever worrying symptoms. She contracted a fever, sweated excessively and was said to have barely been able to eat due to nausea. She had to be sedated with Milk of the Poppy as the pain returned to her fingers in unimaginable levels and the hand itself swelled to twice its size. After her symptoms failed to improve despite the Grand Maester’s complete attention, King Viserys became desperate._

_By Royal Decree, Maester Gerardys returned to King’s Landing and was quick to identify an infection in the badly healed bones in her smallest finger. Fearing that the infection may spread and cause further complications with the Princess’s health, Maester Gerardys opted to amputate the problematic finger. To this end, he used the untested ‘Ether’ to ensure the Princess would not awaken during surgery._

_Whilst this surgery was a resounding success, many Maesters objected to the use of ‘Ether’ quite vocally. It was this outcry, and a formal complaint from the Grand Maester, that allowed the Citadel to act as it did. _

_As 119AC came to a close, Maester Gerardys was formally summoned to the Citadel to answer to an official investigation into accusations made against him. The Citadel alleged that he had passed on forbidden knowledge and secrets to the Alchemists, engaged in witchcraft and foul magic, withheld knowledge from the Citadel, committed vulgar acts and, most seriously, that he had broken his oath to be loyal to Dragonstone by using an untested substance on the Princess._

_The Inquest continued well into the new year as Maesters and Arch-Maesters alike quizzed Gerardys on Dragonstone, the Alchemist’s Guild and who had invented the wondrous things that its campus produced. Gerardys remained loyal to Dragonstone, however, and soon after the Inquest came to a close, he was formally stripped of his chain and denounced as a Maester. _

_If The Citadel expected Gerardys to be humbled by stripping him of his chain, they were sorely mistaken. No sooner had Princess Rhaenyra received the news than she invited the man back into her household and refused to take the replacement The Citadel offered._

_In defiance of convention, Gerardys would go on to officially open a school of healing on Dragonstone, training many of the wisemen and Septons that would go on to serve the people of King’s Landing and the Narrow Sea…”_


	118. Timeskip 7

An excerpt from the text _The Three Journeys_ by Lyra Cargyll written, 175AC

_“The second journey of Laena Velaryon is harder to summarise and relies much on the assumptions of her contemporaries and folktales. What can be said for certain is that two months after her daughter was born prematurely in 119AC, Laena Velaryon mounted Vhagar and flew to Braavos with not even a year passing since her last journey. She did so without the permission of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, who still counted her as one of her ladies-in-waiting and a close friend. Upon hearing the news of her lady’s unauthorised departure, Princess Rhaenyra is said to have flown into a great rage._

_Contested letters between Joffrey Velaryon and his lover and goodbrother, Laenor Velaryon, claim that Princess Aemma Targaryen was conceived shortly after Lady Velaryon’s departure as Ser Laenor sought to comfort his wife at the loss of such a good friend. One of the greatest proofs that can be offered is that Princess Aemma was born almost nine months to the day after Lady Velaryon left._

_Records from the Sealord of Braavos at that time tell us that Lady Laena did not tarry long in Braavos. Dark rumours swirled about her stay there and it was a contemporary theory that she sought to gain access to the House of Black and White, the house of assassins so shrouded in mystery even now. It seems unlikely she was granted an audience, however, as she soon left Braavos for Lys._

_She is known to have tarried in the Perfumed Sister for near two months, a guest of Magister Lotho Dagareon, who was oft seen taking her on tours about the city and accompanying her to the many parties the Lyseni are known for holding. Yet Lady Laena’s tours of the oldest parts of Lys, its temples and its libraries are not the only thing of note to happen during her stay there._

_From records recovered from Magister Dagareon’s cache, kept safe through the Rogue Prince’s Rebellion that took place not even a decade later, we know that towards the end of her stay, Lady Laena Velaryon received a letter from a most unlikely source, Princess Helaena Targaryen. Westerosi scholars argue the accuracy of such records. Princess Helaena would have been approaching her eleventh nameday and was fostered with Lady Jeyne Arryn at the time. What cause would a daughter of Queen Alicent, no matter how beloved they both were by Princess Rhaenyra, have to send a letter to the rider of Vhagar and a staunch Black?_

_Magister Dagareon never writes what the letter contained, or if he did the contents were destroyed in the rebellion, but he does write that after reading the letter, Lady Laena became distressed and began making plans to depart Lys immediately for the next stretch of her journey. Where she had been happy to accept Magister Dagareon’s aid in planning her adventure she now tore up those plans and refused to let him see the replacement itinerary._

_Within a week she had departed Lys, refusing all entreaties to stay further in the city._

_We know that from Lys, she went east to Volantis. Where she had been free and sociable before, she was now secretive and paranoid. She attended no social gatherings, instead spending her time exploring Volantis and the surrounding Valyrian towns along the River Rhoyne, even daring to venture as far as The Sorrows. Records of her exact movements have never been released to Westerosi scholars by the Volantenes however, despite many requests they do so by the Royal Family._

_From there on, we only have Magister Dagareon’s writings as to what she intended to visit before she changed her plans; the ruins of Essaria known as Vaes Khadokh, the Demon Road with its cities of Mantarys, Bhorash, Tolos and Elyria, the Isle of Cedars and its cities of Velos and Ghozai and the ill-reputed Isle of Tears and the ruins of Gogossos. Nobody can say for certain which of these she truly visited but if Magister Dargareon writes truly, it seemed Lady Velaryon wished to tour the crumbling glory of her ancient ancestors - the Dragon Lords of Valyria…”_

An excerpt from the text _The Silver Falcon_ by Maester Godric written, 219AC

_“…Lady Arryn’s power in the Vale was to only go from strength to strength after spring was officially announced in 120AC. The winter had been long and hard, the Vale was still reeling from the Mountain Clans desperate rebellion, food was running short after five years of weather that had only grown worse as the years went on, and the start of 120AC saw Princess Helaena Targaryen, her ward, fall deathly ill. _

_Yet as the weather slowly began to warm, the people of the Vale, both Lords and common folk, were given even more reason for celebration than the changing of the seasons._

_Attended by one of Princess Rhaenyra’s midwives and her dear companion, Jessamyn Redfort, Lady Arryn gave birth to her firstborn child. A healthy, lusty son she named Osgood Arryn, for the King of Mountain and Vale that had passed the decree she relied on to lawfully seize the mountains in which her future silver mines would be founded. Even better for Lady Jeyne, a month after her son’s birth, Princess Helaena finally awoke from her almost comatose state._

_Yet not all in the Vale were pleased with the political situation. Gunthor Royce, for he was officially a Royce despite his later actions, grew ever further from the Lordship of Runestone. Lady Rhea Royce, his Aunt, now had two healthy sons; Yohn, born in 118AC, and Yorwyck, born in 119AC. Once the roads were safe for travel in 120AC, Gunthor Royce made a progression to the Gate of the Moon to petition Lady Arryn to restore him his rights as Heir of Runestone._

_He argued that Lady Royce’s first husband yet lived and that the annulment granted to Lady Royce that allowed her to marry Lord Torrhen Royce was obtained via bribery and deceit. He argued his cousins, born of that union, were therefore bastards. Lady Arryn was not of the same view. In a blistering letter sent to Lady Rhea Royce, who resided in King’s Landing, Lady Jeyne denounced Gunthor Royce and had him imprisoned in his quarters._

_Lady Rhea was inclined to be merciful to her nephew, however, and although she banished him to stay with his kin at Coldwater Burn she did reaffirm that he was a Royce in name as well as blood…”_


	119. Timeskip 8

An excerpt from the text _The Green Death_ by Maester Oswell written, 288AC

_“The Green Death is a fascinating nickname when taken in context of the time period, who originally coined it and just who earned such a name._

_On the surface of it, a child of Queen Alicent Hightower being named ‘the Green Death’ implies some sort of political motivation. Looking at the moniker one is forced to wonder just how it could have come to be? Is its bearer a staunch Green and fearsome fighter that brings destruction to the Blacks? Is the bearer a traitor that ensured the Greens failed in their plot to crown Prince Aegon with their actions?_

_The answer is none of these. The nickname was not even coined by those who knew about the Black and Green factions. After all, what would the Mountain Clans of the Vale know about the Princess and the Queen? For it was these long destroyed barbarians, these old terrors of the Vale, that first called Princess Helaena by the sobriquet ‘the Green Death’._

_It was only a few months after she had recovered from her mysterious illness that the Mountain Clans finally united under a new Griffin King. The Clans were not given to written records and much of their culture was destroyed after the Battle of the Bloody Gate but survivors claimed that the Clans threw their support behind the Griffin King because he promised to take back a full third of their lost territory by beating the armies of the Vale in pitched battle._

_Today, this sounds laughable. The Vale could call upon armoured knights, veteran men-at-arms and double that number in levies that had a score to settle with the Clans. In addition, they had the Falcons, a force designed to neutralise the advantage that the terrain granted their opponents. Yet the Falcons had taken losses during the Conquest of Dorne and the forces of the Vale chose their battle site poorly, against the advice of Lord Denys Waynwood, leader of the Falcons._

_When the battle began in earnest, the Vale looked set to take large losses whilst the forces of the Griffin King were set to withdraw having barely taken any. No doubt they hoped that the force would pursue them even deeper into the Mountains of the Moon where they could wear down their foe’s numbers to an even greater degree. They were not to be given the chance. Despite the young dragon Morghul being barely the size of a horse, Princess Helaena mounted her and flew to aid the Vale army._

_Having never faced a dragon in the field, The Mountain Clans threw down their weapons and fled in the face of the sudden onslaught of fire. The Vale army was quick to rally and pursue, following Princess Helaena’s mount as she harried the fleeing tribesman._

_As for the nickname? Well, Morghul was green and she rained fire and death from above.”_

An excerpt from the text _Bastard Born_ by Rue, 155AC

_“After Queen Alicent found the two bastard boys, Addam and Alyn, during her stay on Dragonstone to birth Princess Viserra, they were moved away from the prying eyes of the Court and its gossips. This only further fed the rumours that Ser Laenor had fathered them. Rumours that made King Viserys angry enough to unsuccessfully try and visit the boys in 119AC. _

_They returned to their home in the castle town on Dragonstone in early 121AC after four years in the small and nameless farming village that Princess Rhaenyra’s alchemist’s perfected their agricultural techniques in. Nobody knows what made Princess Rhaenyra order them to be moved back as interest in the boys, now six and seven, was always there as the Blacks and the Greens played their games. They lived there for three moons before their Mother caught Princess Rhaenyra’s eye._

_In order to make the glass they were producing on Driftmark, the Glassworks needed a lot of seaweed. As the first work at the site got underway in 120AC, the seaweed farms that had been invented by the Wisdoms were making plenty of it to feed the Glassworks. When Westeros realised the potential in cheap and local glass everyone wanted to buy some. Soon the farms were not making nearly enough._

_Princess Rhaenyra flew back to Dragonstone to find out what was causing issues at the farms. She also met with Addam, Alyn and Marilda of Hull. Marilda had been the daughter of a shipwright and had been involved in trade since she could walk. We don’t know why Princess Rhaenyra visited the mother of her husband’s bastards but the next day, the Princess took Marilda on a tour of the farms._

_Even though Marilda was only a year older than the Princess, she bowed to the woman on certain matters and suggestions Marilda made. Many people tried to talk the Princess out of putting Marilda in charge of improving the farms but the Princess would not be told. She appointed her ‘Interim Director’ and Marilda was so successful in providing enough seaweed for the Glassworks that six moons later, Princess Rhaenyra put her in charge permanently._

_After this happened, Addam and Alyn moved to live with their Mother in the castle of Dragonstone proper as Marilda was now a highly placed member of Princess Rhaenyra’s administration on the island and reported to the Castellan himself and no one else. Marilda and her family were also said to have been given a generous cut of the seaweed farm’s profits. _

_Despite an allowance from Princess Rhaenyra, these profits and her pay as ‘Director’, Marilda did not rest on her laurels. She invested her money in many trading ventures. Most people agree that she was advised by Lord Corlys on whom to give her money to. Soon she had enough money to buy her own ship. Even though she still worked on the seaweed farms her ships multiplied and by the time her first son was made a squire she had seven ships…”_


	120. Timeskip 9

An excerpt from the text _A History of the Schism_ by Septon Andar written, 314AC

_“Many have argued about how involved the then Princess Rhaenyra was in the early stages of the Great Schism given that the vast majority of it happened long after her death. Many, particularly those that subscribe to the teachings of the Starry Septon, are quick to accuse her of using the Faith to her own ends. That she could not truly believe in the tenets of the Shepherd’s teachings and that even her many charities were more the work of her underlings than genuine piety._

_It is the opinion of this humble Septon, a follower of the Shepherd’s teachings, that the Schism was made possible, and began, with her actions. I will not argue this way and try to prove that the Princess was a true believer, for that is between her and the Seven. Yet it can not be denied that by sheltering the Septon then called Patrek, by protecting him with her own men, by providing him with money, food and her inventions, she laid the foundations for his rise to power._

_It was with her blessing that Septon Patrek and his believers stormed what was then called the Great Sept on Visenya’s Hill in 122AC, it was her influence with her father that prevented Septon Eustace from gaining the King’s aid in taking back the Sept, and it was her supplies to it’s ‘food bank’ that kept the crowds of King’s Landing flocking to it despite the moratorium the High Septon had placed upon doing so._

_Later, she spent thousands of gold dragons on printing copies of the Seven-Pointed Star. Those same copies she ‘donated’ to Septon Patrek. Did she also suggest his later actions? Some say she was behind his church school, in both funding and conception. Whether she was or not, she certainly encouraged the education of the commons. She had many learning healing and other arts at the feet of the disgraced Maester, Gerardys, on Dragonstone through a ‘scholarship’ given to the brightest and best among them…”_

An excerpt from _The Black Queen: A True Tale of Rhaenyra the Reformer_ by Prince Gaemon Targaryen written, 230AC

_“… that was not the only stroke of genius my ancestor had in regards to the raising of her children!_

_In 122AC, she summoned Lady Jeyne Bracken, then aged ten, and Alysanne Blackwood, then aged nine, to attend upon her twin daughters Princesses Jocelyn and Alyssa, who had just seen their sixth nameday. I can hear your thoughts, dear readers! Why summon two ladies of the most quarrelsome houses in all of Westeros? The answer lies in the memoirs she left her descendants, written in her own hand! Her reasons were threefold! The two ladies would provide the twin princesses with strong-minded individuals so that they should grow up humbled on occasion and not be given to arrogance, to give them practice in solving disputes between two overly argumentative sides and, simply, to give them friends so that their position did not render them lonely._

_Her plan went into effect almost immediately! She refused to allow the two ladies two separate sets of servants and retinues and wrote to their Lord Fathers to rectify the situation. Not wishing to lose their daughters' places, especially if the other should keep it, they agreed readily and Princess Rhaenyra merged their households with brutal efficiency. Her memoirs state this was not received well by the girls and that they had to be separated to prevent physical violence on multiple occasions!_

_Yet, my ancestor writes, both adored the twins and made an effort to ensure their rivalry did not trouble the younger girls even if they did argue about every topic from religion to architecture when the Princesses were not present…”_

An excerpt from the text _Bastard Born_ by Rue, 155AC

_“Marilda of Hull being moved to the castle for her work on the seaweed farms meant that Addam and Alyn were often seen playing in the halls of Dragonstone and getting underfoot like their mother once did when she lived on Driftmark with her father. It also meant that Addam and Alyn could be tutored by the many wise men that Princess Rhaenyra had gathered on Dragonstone._

_They got their lessons from men like Gerardys, Wisdom Jerrett and Lady Alannys, who wasn’t a lady then. Also lots of other wisdoms helped out and they were often taken to see lectures and other stuff at the campus. Most surprising to everyone that heard of it was that Princess Rhaenyra gave orders that both boys should be allowed to train in martial pursuits with the Master-at-Arms, Ser Rogar Langward._

_Even King Viserys told Princess Rhaenyra to not allow it as he feared that the boys might become too skilled and threaten the Princess’s trueborn children. Princess Rhaenyra refused advice once again as she swore that her husband's children would be good boys who were loyal and would not hurt their own kin even to enrich themselves. None of the Princes or Princesses ever wrote down what they thought about this at this time even though they would go on to become great friends with their bastard brothers later on in their lives._

_So the boys started learning martial pursuits under the Master-at-Arms. Right from the start, people noticed that Alyn had no real talent for it and only attended the lessons because of his brother. Addam was a natural talent with the sword and received a lot of praise for his progress and skill. When word got back to King Viserys he begged the Princess again to ban the boys from learning such things. _

_Instead, Princess Rhaenyra travelled to Dragonstone for another meeting with Marilda of Hull and Ser Rogar Langward. Ser Rogar was very impressed with Addam and offered to take him as a squire as long as he had permission to do so from the Princess. Princess Rhaenyra was happy for Addam to squire under Ser Rogar and even gave the knight an allowance to properly care for Addam. As for Alyn, Princess Rhaenyra agreed to pay for him to apprentice at Hull to learn the shipbuilding trade…”_


	121. Timeskip 10

An excerpt from the text _The Silver Falcon_ by Maester Godric written, 219AC

_“Before the rule of Lady Jeyne Arryn, the old and proud families of the Vale often struggled for coin. Whilst the land of the Vale itself was, even then, rich and fertile, they had been fighting a war against both man and seasons for time immemorial. What the vicious winter winds did not snatch away, the Mountains Clans were happy to take. Noble Houses were forced to spend the vast majority of their incomes on soldiers and fortifications to keep their lands safe and therefore struggled to invest in the necessary infrastructure to improve their lands._

_Their pride should also not be underestimated as a cause for their poverty in comparison to even some Northern Houses. There was an element of ‘keeping up appearances’ and a steadfast refusal by most to involve themselves in trade and ‘coin-counting’. When Lady Jeyne Arryn raised her kinsmen to Lords of Gulltown, many of the Vale Lords scorned them, despite their noble ancestry. The Arryns of Gulltown, to many, were ‘up-jumped merchants’ who had risen above their station despite their obvious wealth in comparison to others._

_Even Lady Arryn herself was not as rich as other Great Lords and Ladies, with her incomes being a paltry amount compared to all but the rulers of The North, the Starks. Even the barbarous Ironborn could boast more gold and richer lifestyle, even if it was mostly stolen from hard-working and honest folk in Essos and, as the rumours went, Westeros too._

_Yet this was to change forever in 121AC. The Mountain Clans had broken under the onslaught of her armies and her ward and the Falcons pursued them to their last holdfasts and hideaways. Time had run out for the Mountain Clans of the Vale and Lady Arryn was ready to begin her surveys of the Mountains of the Moon, having negotiated a loan with the Iron Bank to fund her work. Aided by Lord Reyne, who was happy to send expert miners and surveyors to her, Lady Jeyne Arryn undertook the daunting task of discovering what lay in the Mountains and how truthful her ancestors had been in their ancient documents._

_What she found there was beyond her, and indeed her ancestor’s, wildest dreams. Small deposits of gold, silver in vast amounts, iron to rival the Iron Islands themselves, copper, tin, antimony and galena. The news was well received by all who had a stake in the matter and Lady Jeyne soon accepted further investment from her cousin Princess Rhaenyra, House Velaryon and House Reyne. She also, surprisingly, allowed the Belmores of Strongsong to extend their existing iron mines in return for a generous part of the profits they would make. Lady Rhea Royce received a similar grant to extend her copper and tin mines. _

_Although the Arryn mines would not begin producing anything of note until 132AC, the decade after the discovery saw an economic boom in the Vale…”_

An excerpt from the text _An Age of Science_ by Wisdom Harlan written, 299AC

_“From the moment that Wisdom Jerrett and his compatriots had founded their campus on Dragonstone, the island became a haven for intellectuals and scholars. Its reputation only increased as such after the Gerardys Affair. In 122AC, the campus of the Alchemist’s Guild would merge with Gerardys’ School of Medicine to form the College of Dragonstone, to be constructed at a new site, that still exists today._

_Further reorganisation was undertaken, rumoured to be the brainchild of Princess Rhaenyra herself, and clear departments were formed alongside an academic hierarchy and formalised funding. The move was not well received by all, as many believed that the College would become another Citadel in time and would crush the spirit of scientific enquiry that the College had been founded on. Regardless of arguments, the changes went ahead and were finalised soon after._

_To fund its many studies, the College was granted part of the profits from the many inventions they had created there; Dragon Salt, the Midwifery School, the Printing Press and, perhaps most importantly at that time, the Glassworks on Driftmark. The Glassworks had begun reaching full production in mid-122AC and Westeros’ demand for its service was great indeed._

_This left Wisdom Jerrett, who still claimed overall leadership of the College as its Master, in an interesting position. The new College would be a state of the art facility, boasting many features that even the Alchemists Guild of King’s Landing did not. He had access to a steady and large revenue flow to fund his new College and its studies and he had prestige and a great following with the Guild itself._

_It was he that had persuaded Princess Rhaenyra to share ‘The Book’ with him, it was he that had founded the campus on Dragonstone, and would now rule its successor, and it was he that had turned those fanciful technologies into real world inventions. He had even presided over discoveries not in The Book’s pages in the form of Iodine. Compared to the current Grand Master, a man more obsessed with turning lead into gold, Wisdom Jerrett looked to be a very good prospect for leadership._

_Yet Grand Master Jowen was a hale and healthy man, unlikely to die any time soon and very much opposed to surrendering his title to, in his own words, ‘an upstart that had discarded the Alchemist’s chief tenets for prestige and gold from a pretty girl’. Many of the King’s Landing Alchemists were quick to point out that the Guild had been founded to study magic in the scientific manner. Under Wisdom Jerrett very little magic was being studied._

_The political disruption caused by the old and new clashing would go on for many moons until late 123AC when a solution was reached. Wisdom Jerrett would become High Wisdom Jerrett, the College would be separated entirely from the Guild with the Guild ‘renting’ rooms within it and the study of magic would take place in the old campus that the Alchemist’s Guild would retain control of… ”_


	122. Timeskip 11

An excerpt from the text _The Silver Falcon_ by Maester Godric written, 219AC

_“… the words of Princess Helaena who often wrote to her brother, Prince Aegon, that Lady Jeyne Arryn and Princess Rhaenyra were very alike in personality and bearing. It is not odd that the cousins should be alike both physically and mentally. They shared a grandfather in Rodrick Arryn, both Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Jeyne inherited his lack of height with Princess Rhaenyra being the shortest of King Viserys’ children despite being the eldest._

_Their situations in life were also comparable. Lady Jeyne had ascended to her position as a child after her father and brother were killed during an attack by the Mountain Clans that Lady Jeyne would go on to destroy. A young girl in charge of so much was a scandal during that time period, especially when she had male relatives who were older and believed to be more capable by many. Princess Rhaenyra was raised to the position of heir at age seven after the death of two of her brothers. Like her kinswoman, this caused great scandal. A scandal that only grew when her brother, Prince Aegon, was born and King Viserys refused to rescind his decree that she was his heir._

_Both were repeatedly challenged by vassals who preferred their male relatives to their rule and both destroyed houses and ways of life in their quests to assert themselves in their positions as rulers. This is not the only similarity that has been noted between the two, though. As mentioned in previous chapters, many historians posit that Lady Jeyne Arryn preferred her own sex, pointing to the relationship she held with her lady-in-waiting and childhood friend Jessamyn Redfort. A woman who, rumours say, so often played the bed companion that Lady Arryn slept more by her side than she slept by her husband’s. Contrast to Princess Rhaenyra, whom a minority of scholars argue held a similar relationship with her own lady-in-waiting and childhood friend, Laena Velaryon. _

_Indeed, when Lady Velaryon left on her second Great Journey with little notice and no leave granted, Princess Rhaenyra was said to be so upset by the matter she turned to her husband to comfort her, resulting in Princess Aemma being born nine months after Lady Velaryon’s departure. _

_A similar turn of events occurred when Lady Jessamyn Redfort was married to Ser Donnel Templeton in 122AC. Lady Jeyne was said to have been heartbroken by her marriage, enough that Lord Gerold Redfort fell out of her favour after enjoying it since he had marched on the Gate of the Moon to confront Ser Arnold in 114AC. Nine months after the now Lady Jessamyn Templeton’s departure from the Eyrie, Aemma Arryn was born as healthy as her brother was._

_Even if one ignores the rumours and tales of just who shared the Princess and the Lady’s bed, the events still remain similar. Both had a childhood friend and lady-in-waiting depart their service unexpectedly and both, nine months later, birthed girls that they named Aemma. _

_Perhaps we can understand much more about the type of person Lady Arryn was by looking at the actions of Princess Rhaenyra…”_

An excerpt from the text _The Green Death_ by Maester Oswell written, 288AC

_“… in fact, Princess Helaena would not end her fostering with Lady Jeyne Arryn until late 124AC. This makes her the last of Queen Alicent’s children to return home as her brother, Aemond Targaryen, had been knighted not four moons before._

_The first of her brothers to return to King’s Landing was Prince Aegon in 122AC, although such an early arrival was somewhat unplanned. It had been agreed between King Viserys and Lord Jason that Prince Aegon would not be knighted before he was six and ten yet Prince Aegon was not content to wait. He won his spurs by entering the melee of Lord Jason’s nameday tournament disguised as a mystery knight, bringing low many older and more experienced men. Lord Jason was said to have offered the mystery knight any boon that was in his power to grant him. At which point, the tales say, that Prince Aegon revealed himself to the delight of the Lords and commons alike and asked to be knighted. Unable to refuse, Lord Jason acceded to the request with amusement._

_Even before this, Prince Aegon was thought well of across the Westerlands and had forged a great many friendships with the young scions of many noble families as well as having many a maiden blushing. Handsome, even at five and ten, he had grown tall and fair of face during his fostering. When Lord Jason wrote to King Viserys to explain why he had broken their agreement, he described Aegon as ‘second to none in the Westerlands, perhaps even Westeros, with a blade’. He returned to King’s Landing to great acclaim with a small army of knights and lordlings at his back._

_Queen Alicent was perhaps, according to letters between Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon, a little too overly happy that her eldest son had returned, haloed by a growing legend with a reputation as an honourable and peerless knight. Regardless of her children’s feelings, she moved to have them formally betrothed as quickly as possible, with the official announcement sent out before Princess Helaena had even been told. Contemporary rumours were of the opinion that this had been done so that Lady Arryn could not reveal the betrothal to her kinswoman, Princess Rhaenyra, whom Queen Alicent believed would attempt to interfere with the matter as the traditional brother-sister marriage of the Targaryens being granted to her rival for the Throne would only be a boon to Prince Aegon’s cause._

_No record of either of her children’s reactions exist although some more doubtful sources allege that both were displeased but resigned to what they saw as an indignity. What is known is that Princess Helaena refuses to leave the Eyrie to attend the feast thrown to celebrate her betrothal and that Prince Aegon spent most of that feast sat next to his older sister, Princess Rhaenyra, and her husband, deep in conversation…”_


	123. Timeskip 12

An excerpt from the text _The Vulture Kings_ by Mara Ladybright written, 245AC

_“124AC was a turning point for Walter Wyl and his band of traitors and ne’er-do-wells. He had finally annoyed the Regency in Sunspear enough that something was resolved to be done about him. Until that point he had faced fractured resistance in the form of former allies whose strategies and plans he could predict with little effort. Perhaps he felt that he could weather any general in Dorne that Lord Aron Dayne could call upon to face him, and perhaps that was even true._

_Yet Lord Aron Dayne did not call upon a Dornish general to solve his problem with the so-called ‘Third Vulture King’. No, in a move that only demonstrates how much stronger we are, how much stronger Dorne is, when we are part of a greater whole, Lord Aron Dayne formally asked Borros Baratheon and Bennard Stark to crush Walter Wyl and his men as they cowered in the Red Mountains._

_The Lord of the Stormlands and the Lord of Red Wolf’s hold were quick to gather their men to them. The Desert Wolves were once again called into service, their numbers swelled by both Dornish and Stormlander volunteers, as they began the Second Vulture Hunt. Within a few moons, Walter Wyl went from the uncontested master of the Red Mountains to losing half his men and fleeing what had grown into a veritable army as more and more of his victims joined their power to the Lord of the Stormlands to ensure justice was carried out and that Walter Wyl was dragged to Sunspear in chains.._

_Yet, as much as I put forth that his genius is overstated in historical texts, it can not be denied that Walter Wyl possessed cunning and a political mind rivalled by few of his era. He contacted the exiled Prince Garin, whom many of the Stony Dornish still quietly supported, and declared himself to be his man, willing to strike at Princess Aliandra’s supporters relentlessly to make up for his raiding over the past six years. Prince Garin was no doubt eager to accept, knowing what we know now about his activities in the Disputed Lands._

_I would imagine it came as a great surprise to Lords Yronwood, Fowler and Manwoody when their chosen Prince ordered them to drop their pursuit of the man that had slaughtered thousands across their territories combined. They did so, however, quietly selling out their former allies. From that moment on Second Vulture Hunt floundered, beset by problem after problem. Patrols going missing, weapons shipments diverted, pay convoys robbed, water poisoned and equipment damaged - despite a strong start, by 125AC, the Second Vulture Hunt was over._

_As for Walter Wyl, he kept his oath to his Prince. From that moment on he struck at Princess Aliandra’s supporters and the Stormlands alone, going so far as to cross Dorne’s deserts to reach his targets. Nightsong, Ladybright Castle, Hellholt… any who even wavered on supporting the Prince would soon receive raids from Walter Wyl’s men._

_Not all had given up on bringing him to justice though. Bennard Stark had set his sights on claiming the bounty on his head and, quite sensationally, changed his family’s heraldry to reflect this, much to the anger of his late brother’s son, Lord Cregan Stark. The Lord of Red Wolf’s hold banners now bore a red wolf holding a dead, black snake within its maw…”_

An excerpt from _The Black Queen: A True Tale of Rhaenyra the Reformer_ by Prince Gaemon Targaryen written, 230AC

_“Dear readers! Despite the almost peaceful and idyllic the year 124AC was for my glorious forebear, villains beset her at every turn. Despite the vilification of her noble friend, Joffrey Velaryon, during both of their lifetimes and after, he was a clever and true man. He sought to protect the Queen he had sworn his heart to from every danger. None, dear readers, was more villainous or dangerous than Larys Strong!_

_He had found his match in Ser Joffrey though, and the two engaged in a secret shadow war in the city. Yet, whilst the villain was happy to play by the rules when he was winning, he was equally happy to drop the guise of the gentleman when Ser Joffrey began to turn the tide against him. Whereas before they had avoided involving innocents and unfortunates, Larys Strong began using them as his shields and patsys as Ser Joffrey’s net grew ever tighter around him._

_Yet Larys Strong had one last scheme to play. One last gasp to save himself from the ignoble end that would no doubt befall him should his villainy come to light, and it would all play out at the nameday celebrations of my ancestor, King Viserys I. It was well known to all that the Master of Whisperers, Ser Jaremy Corbray, often took part in the jousts and had found much success there for many years. Princess Rhaenyra writes that she was surprised to find him quite the skillful knight despite his less than stellar abilities in his role on the Small Council._

_Yet, it was this honourable knight of the Vale that became the victim of Larys Strong’s desperate attempt to survive. Perhaps only Larys Strong knows how he persuaded, or more likely tricked, Ser Jaremy to enter the melee that day when he had never done so before but enter the melee he did. When Ser Jaremy was one of five competitors left, the brute Ser Emmon Leygood struck him in the head with a vicious blow._

_Ser Jaremy lingered for nine days before dying, never again to rise from his bed. Afterwards it was Lord Lyonel Strong that became the unwitting pawn of his son when he suggested him as a replacement. You and I know, dear reader, that he was fiend but a talented one. When Princess Rhaenyra attempted to speak against him, King Viserys would not hear it! He claimed that a son of Lord Lyonel would be loyal, that he would ensure that her ascension to Queen would run smoothly. He was unmoved when Princess Rhaenyra revealed to him her suspicions about his allegiances, accusing his daughter of seeing enemies where there were none!_

_Afterwards, my ancestor writes, she did not speak with him for weeks and Larys Strong became Master of Whisperers…”_


	124. Timeskip 13

An excerpt from the text _The Green Death_ by Maester Oswell written, 288AC

_“Princess Helaena could not avoid her Mother’s plans for her indefinitely, however, and as 124AC closed and 125AC began, she was summoned by Royal Decree to begin her journey home. Accompanying her was the woman who had fostered her, Lady Jeyne Arryn, along with Ser Denys Corbray, Osgood Arryn, Aemma Arryn and Lady Jeyne’s new sworn sword, Ser Jon Hardyng. They made excellent time from Gulltown to King’s Landing where they were received joyfully by the entirety of House Targaryen. _

_“All finally united and together as it should be” Princess Rhaenyra would toast at the feast held in Helaena’s honour. A toast that Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena were happy to drink to._

_The reason for their coming together was soon upon them though. More dubious sources from this period claim that Princess Helaena and Prince Aegon twice sought their elder sister’s intervention to prevent their marriage. Yet Princess Rhaenyra was unable to help, for the same policy that gave her freedom in her children’s betrothals also prevented her from interfering in Queen Alicent’s plans for her children._

_Thus Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena were married. It was a lavish ceremony, even for a Royal Wedding. It was said to have cost twice the amount of Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding that had taken place in 114AC and the spectacle it was could surely attest to that. There was entertainment from all over Westeros and Essos including Braavosi mummers, musicians from Lys, fire-eaters from Volantis and even, it was rumoured, a witch who could tell the future from far-flung Asshai. The entire city was halted as seven days of holidays were announced and anyone with any claim to nobility or knighthood flocked to the Keep to try their hand at the jousts, the melees or the archery competitions. _

_The Red Keep itself had been transformed with banners, bunting, and tapestries. Daily feasts were held in the run-up to the ceremony itself and Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena were always the guests of honour, whether they wished to be or not. When they were not feasting, Queen Alicent had them amongst the lords and ladies, shaking hands and making conversation._

_The Ceremony itself was performed by the High Septon and the feast afterwards was said to have served seventy-seven courses, each dish more expensive than the last. The power of House Hightower was on full display for all that it was two scions of House Targaryen marrying…”_

An excerpt from the text _The Silver Falcon_ by Maester Godric written, 219AC

_“… as Lady Arryn set sail to attend the wedding of her Ward, Princess Helaena, she left the Vale to Lord Denys Waynwood._

_This was all the weakness that the rebellion that had been growing in the shadows of the Vale needed. From Coldwater Burn, Gunthor Royce declared himself the true Lord of Runestone. He was aided by Ser Edric Arryn, the young son of Ser Arnold Arryn. Both, like Ser Arnold before them, rode at the head of mercenaries. They were joined by knights from across the Vale and men from Hunter, Corbray, Templeton, Coldwater and Royce lands._

_When Lady Arryn received notice of the traitors, she flew into a rage to rival any of the legendary Dragon Rages of her cousin. Furious, she refused aid from her dragon-riding allies and insisted on leaving the festivities early to attend to Ser Edric and Gunthor Royce herself, although she allowed her husband and her children to stay and enjoy the wedding. She was, however, accompanied by Lady Rhea Royce and Ser Jon Hardyng._

_It speaks to the character and skill of the rebels that she needn’t have left King’s Landing. By the time her ship docked in Gulltown, the rebellion was over. Ser Edric and Gunthor had failed to take a single town or defeat any foe. They had allowed themselves to be manoeuvred into a disadvantageous position by the much more skilled Lord Denys and were utterly routed from the field in their first clash with Arryn forces._

_Ser Edric was captured fleeing the battle and Gunthor Royce made it to Runestone in time to encounter his Aunt, who promptly seized him in the name of her liege lady and turned him over to her custody. The whole matter was considered somewhat embarrassing by all involved and both Ser Edric and Gunthor Royce were dispatched the Wall as quickly as Lady Jeyne could bring them to trial._

_The true mystery of the matter arose after, however, when it emerged that the two had a secret backer who had been operating in the Vale for quite some time. Who had supplied the two conspirators with enough coin to raise the mercenaries they did? Who had masterminded the political pressure that had severed Lady Jeyne from her Redfort allies? Ser Edric and Gunthor had refused to say, even when offered clemency for a name…”_

An excerpt from _The Black Queen: A True Tale of Rhaenyra the Reformer_ by Prince Gaemon Targaryen written, 230AC

_“Perhaps, dear readers, it is in poor taste to celebrate death. Yet Princess Rhaenyra could only have let out a sigh of relief when Grand Maester Mellos passed away in his sleep during the seventh moon of 125AC. In truth, no one could argue her not completely justified in doing so! He had been a poor Grand Maester from the beginning, possessing great skill in law, mathematics, history and administration and barely any skill in other areas._

_Truly, it is a miracle he managed to deliver the sons and daughter of Queen Alicent without inadvertently killing her in the process. Not only that, but Mellos had made it clear from the beginning that he did not support King Viserys’ choice of heir and often played stooge to Queen Alicent and Jasper Wylde during Small Council meetings. To say nothing of his utter failure in regards to protecting her health that saw her lose a finger due to his inaction. How did he reward the man who actually saved her life? By formally accusing him of a list of fabricated crimes!_

_It is a testament, dear reader, to King Viserys’ mercy that his head was not struck off at that moment. As it was, King Viserys sidelined the old man after the incident and was extremely supportive of Gerardys’ efforts on Dragonstone. Yet that is an aside! Grand Maester Mellos passed peacefully in his sleep and by the end of 125AC, the Red Keep would be assigned a new Grand Maester._

_This one would be much more troubling to Princess Rhaenyra, although she had no way of knowing it at the time. Grand Maester Edmund seemed a kind and compassionate man, eager to make up for the mistakes his predecessors had made…”_


	125. Timeskip 14

An excerpt from the text _The Three Journeys_ by Lyra Cargyll written, 175AC

_“Lady Laena Velaryon’s return to Westeros was less a glorious and warm welcome and more a dejected and almost unnoticed slink into Dragonstone in 121AC where she would stay for over a year before Princess Rhaenyra would visit the island. Even then, it was not even to meet with her friend and rumoured lover, but to meet with Marilda of Hull regarding the treatment of her bastard boys. It must have stung being relegated in priority by Princess Rhaenyra to behind her husband’s bastard sons and the woman who bore them._

_Yet they must have eventually met, because Lady Laena travelled back with her to King’s Landing after Princess Rhaenyra’s visit and took up the mantle of lady-in-waiting once more. According to Ser Joffrey’s letters, she also took up the mantle of mother and reconciled with both her children and him, as their father. According to gossip, her relationships with her fellow ladies-in-waiting even improved as their children thawed matters. _

_Lady Maris Strong had three boys; Joffrey, Osmund and Jon, whereas Lady Marya Hastwyck had one son; Edmund, and Lady Sabitha Frey had two sons; Manfryd and Olyvar. Perhaps this lack of children is why her friendship with Lady Falena Waynwood, unmarried and devoted to the cause of Septon Patrek, never quite mended itself. Although many argue this can not be true as Lady Sera Strong welcomed Lady Laena back with great joy, it’s reported._

_Perhaps, in Lady Falena’s case, it was the rumours Lady Laena’s journeys had provoked. It had been noticed by the Court, and Queen Alicent especially, that what places she had visited had ties with dark rumours or magic. A somewhat warped view on the matter as all her destinations also held significant historical importance too, but the once rumour has started, it is hard to stop._

_Not even court hostility could move her, though, and she would spend the next three and a half years by Princess Rhaenyra’s side, once again her favourite in all things. Yet if there is one thing that we know about her character from all sources, it’s that Lady Laena was a wanderer at heart. In late 125AC, she flew from King’s Landing for the final part of her famous journeys. Ser Joffrey says in his many letters that this was a trip begrudgingly approved by Princess Rhaenyra, who was always loathe to let her friend leave her side. He goes on to explain that even the Princess was aware that her disapproval would not hold Lady Laena in Westeros for long, and that the granting of permission would at least ensure she would not disappear into the night._

_This time, no one could track where she had gone. To any looking for her, it seemed she had disappeared completely. There was no rumour of Vhagar to be found across Westeros or Essos. No tracks that they could follow. Some rumours said that she had gone west, across the Sunset Sea, as Elissa Farman had once done. Others had said that she planned to go to Asshai-by-the-Shadow and learn dark magics there. _

_We know now that she only trusted her closest friends with her destination. Once again, it is Ser Joffrey’s letters we look to. It is one single line said in jest, in a single letter, sent whilst he was visiting his business in Lannisport but it truly is telling. “Has Laena returned from Valyria yet? Or has the Doom swallowed her whole?” This one jape lays out the destination she had in mind when she mounted Vhagar to leave on her final journey._

_The Doom of Valyria.”_

An excerpt from the text _The Green Death_ by Maester Oswell written, 288AC

_“Who can truly say why Princess Helaena often travelled back to Vale once she was free to do so. Prince Aegon wrote to his mother, upon being asked, that she had grown to like it there. It is no surprise then that her moniker of ‘the Green Death’ was first used by the Lords and Ladies of the Vale. The more her mother begged her to return home and bear a babe, the more time the Princess spent in the Eyrie alongside the friends she had made there._

_It was the nameday of Prince Aemond that finally drew her back for any length of time. Prince Aemond had been knighted in 124AC, returning home with a fair few young men from the Riverlands nobility to boost Prince Aegon’s growing crowd. He was even better than his older brother with the blade, boasting that he would be able to defeat his Uncle, Prince Daemon, with ease should he ever return to threaten Westeros._

_Skill with the blade, however, would not see him rival his Uncle in truth. Prince Aemond needed a dragon and at six and ten, he had yet to claim one. It was not for lack of choice; many times had he been offered first pick of any unclaimed dragon currently in the Dragonpit but he had demurred. Princess Helaena was of the opinion he hoped that some unfortunate accident would befall Lady Laena Velaryon, rider of Vhagar, yet she immediately clarified this as unfair and pointed towards an agreement with their Father, King Viserys. The King, fearing for his second son’s life should he try at such a young age, forbade Prince Aemond from attempting to tame a dragon from the Dragonmount until he had reached his majority. Most, like Princess Helaena, assumed he would claim one far before then due to impatience, but the Prince held true to his word._

_But before he could finally travel to Dragonstone to make his attempt in 126AC, King Viserys had one more Decree. The entirety of House Targaryen would travel with him as a celebration of their family and heritage. It was a sign of his good mood that he extended this definition of family to include Lady Rhaenys, Lord Corlys, Ser Joffrey Velaryon and his son and daughter…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All caught up with an extra bonus Christmas chapter!


	126. Tension - Chapter 103

The _Princess Rhaenyra_ was a beautiful ship, no one could deny that. A truly impressive construction of ash and pine, she was what my husband fondly called a hybrid galley. Which was, as far as I could tell, the resulting baby of a galley and a swan ship getting to know one another rather well. If he had his way she’d be the future of ship construction, a fact which no doubt had the shipwrights at Hull weeping. His new baby had required an expansion of the yards, necessitated taking on dozens more apprentices and had taken years to complete. Not to mention the amount of upset when I remembered a vague and half-formed memory of placing copper sheets on the hull and Laenor called a halt to the whole project for nearly a year while he figured out how to reproduce the effect.

I had to admit the ship was impressive, and I mustn’t call her a boat especially in front of Laenor; I’d only needed to weather his reaction to that once to know not to do it again. Still, ship or boat, she was a monstrous hundred and twenty feet in length and, given the next largest galley was a mere eighty feet in comparison, she easily dwarfed every other ship in the small fleet that was currently descending on Dragonstone as if to invade my poor island.

A poor choice of words perhaps but an accurate one. I had been so sure Aemond would give in and take a dragon before he turned sixteen and yet, time had conspired to spite me because he’d just passed his nameday and my dear Father had decided to make his trek up the Dragonmont into a family spectacle. Which meant the entirety of my extended family had piled onto boats because of course we weren’t using the dragons, the massive creatures that were the whole reason we were even royal in the first place!

I sighed, feeling far too frazzled for this to be the start of the trip. The view from the deck was not as pleasant as I would have liked given that it was composed primarily of Blackwater Bay, stinking and polluted with the refuse of the city. That and the dragons flitting about, free of their riders for this journey. Certainly no distraction from the inescapable family gathering we were sailing towards. And speaking of family…

“Jocelyn!” I barked as my firstborn daughter charged past me, shrieking with laughter. She braked hard and I let go of the taffrail to fix her with a stern look. “Why are you not in your cabin?”

She stared at me, mouth set into a unhappy grimace and I raised my eyebrow. Then she sighed and stared at her feet.

“Sorry, Mama. I will go back to my cabin.” It hurt like a genuine arrow to the heart to hear her sad tone. It hurt even more to see her throw one longing look at the rest of the children on the deck before dejectedly trailing away. I was forced to grit my teeth when a little sniffle reached my ears.

“A bit harsh?” asked Laenor, nearly giving me a heart attack as he stepped out of a small crowd of men.

“I must be harsh. You know she is behind in her lessons.” He grimaced and nodded, forcing me once again to reflect on the changes a decade of parenthood had wrought on us. We were older now, he was thirty one and I was twenty nine, although I liked to think neither of us looked our age. I had long given up trying to maintain a slim figure and had instead arrived at somewhere close to curvy although my looks remained unchanged by it, something I was exceedingly thankful for. I still wore my braids, time could not change that.

Although it had seen fit to steal a finger. I had been horrified to awaken one digit short all those years ago but I was used to it now. Joffrey could always be relied on to put things in perspective. I may be short a finger but he’d lost everything to a badly healed leg. It was hard to sulk with that knowledge, but that didn’t mean I was about to forget what Mellos and Runciter and their whole rotten Citadel had cost me.

As for Laenor, he was still built like a dancer, slim but strong. He’d also, much to Joffrey and I’s delight, grown a beard. Nothing as messy as some of the abominations that graced the Court but a neatly-trimmed one that put certain other people’s facial hair to shame. His hair was much shorter now, cut back to his ears, although everyone from Joffrey to Lady Rhaenys had tried to convince him not to do it.

There could be no doubt, though, that we were older. Considerably more stressed, too, thanks to our children.

“I know, but you know she struggles,” said Laenor, joining me in watching King’s Landing disappear over the horizon. “She hates feeling like she’s missing things as well.”

“Not enough to stay in her lessons,” I pointed out dryly and Laenor smiled. Our daughter was an adventurous one. There was nothing she hated more than to be cooped up in a room and forced to take notes or read books. 

I was being too harsh. I know I’m being too harsh. It twisted my insides to know she likely had some form of dyslexia or some other learning difficulty. Even when she wanted to focus on her lessons she was doomed to fail and my memory would give me nothing on how to help her. I sympathised, I made allowances yet she didn’t even seem to want to try and work with me, content to learn the way her twin learnt things and scream at me when it inevitably didn’t work out.

I sighed in frustration and Laenor rubbed a soothing circle in the small of my back.

“She’ll get there. She just needs time.” I gave him a look and he raised his eyebrow in response. Then added in a stern tone, “And her mother.”

“I am there for her!” I protested and he laughed, actually laughed, at that. I was about to draw myself up to defend myself when he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I know that! I saw what you did to the idiot that dared to suggest her simple!” he chuckled and I flushed. I had done everything short of threatening to feed him to Syrax. The fact that I had done it all with Rhaenys looming over my shoulder had likely just made it worse. “But she doesn’t see that. She sees your disappointment with her whether she’s in her lessons or escaping them. If she’ll earn your ire either way, why earn it in a stuffy room being lectured?”

“I’m not disappointed,” I replied. “Surely she knows that?”

He didn’t have an answer to that, instead clapping me on the back in commiseration and moving away to bark orders at his crew. I leaned against the taffrail for awhile and watched. These were his men, not Corlys’. He’d picked them himself, trained them himself and sailed with them himself. I was pretty sure half of them would die for him and the other half would kill for him given they were likely the sort that Joffrey employed these days.

I sighed as his words drilled into my head and pushed back from the rail, pausing to examine the small crowd of children playing catch and no doubt infuriating the crew. I could see Aemon, my solemn little boy, Lucerys, Jeyne, Rhaena and Aemma. I frowned as I realised I was missing three… Ah, almost hidden from view. Aliandra, Alys and Alysanne - they’d be terrors if they were ever motivated to do anything other than gossip. Alysanne directed a lazy wave at me and I smiled before returning it. She already had the sharp eyes of the famous archer she would become.

I left them to it, trusting Laenor’s men to make sure none of them did anything ridiculous, and made my way to the cabin Jocelyn shared with her sisters. I was willing to bet she hadn’t touched the books she was supposed to study on the journey to Dragonstone but I knocked on the door and called her name to at least give her time to make it look like she had. The slight delay in admitting me into the room spoke volumes.

“Come here,” I said, perching on the cot and holding my arms out. She threw herself into the hug and sniffled even more into my shoulder. “You promised me you would at least try to do some reading.”

At the gentle reminder, she pulled her arms even tighter around me and nodded into the crook of my neck.

“I did. I’m sorry I went to play first,” she mumbled and I sighed before gently prying her free of my shoulder so that I could look into her eyes. They were the Valyrian violet for all that her hair was coal black. Corlys was always happy to point out that she looked more and more like Rhaenys everyday and I was inclined to agree. “Mama-”

“Go and play, little one,” I said cutting her off and giving in. It was hard to be the stern parent when confronted by a sobbing ten year old. “But tomorrow you will follow me about for your lessons all day.”

“All day!” she cried and I nodded. I watched as her eyes travelled over to the books sat on her desk, one thrown open to a random page. She bit her lip and I struggled to hold my amusement in. “What would we do?”

“Well first we will speak with Ser Vaemond about the general state of Dragonstone, then we shall visit Marilda-”

“Will I get to see Addam and Alyn!?” she burst out, features brightening into a smile. I couldn’t help myself, I laughed.

“Addam will be with Ser Rogar, whom we will see, and Alyn has gone to Driftmark already, little one.” She sighed in dismay. It was funny to me now, although it had not been so at the time. Everyone had been so convinced that Addam and Alyn were Laenor’s that even Corlys claiming them had done little to combat the rumour. The problem was that my children and Addam and Alyn themselves also believed the rumour, for all that they promised to parrot that the boys were Corlys’. “After we have seen Marilda we will speak with Ser Rogar and then we shall go to my offices and I will test you on what you have learnt.”

“Alright,” she said, nodding to herself. “I will follow you tomorrow.”

I held my hand out and she took it solemnly, shaking it as if she were concluding the gravest business, before breaking out into giggles and throwing her arms around me again, nearly knocking me backwards.

“Thanks, Mama! You’re the best!” And then she was gone, racing out of the door to join her friends on the deck and no doubt get herself into every bit of trouble she could possibly manage on a ship. I waited until her footsteps had died away before standing up and leaving myself, ensuring the door was shut tight behind me.

The deck was no less busy when I returned to it but I could hear Jocelyn’s voice from clear across the deck as the sedate game of catch morphed into a more lively game of tag! that even had Alysanne joining in, much to Aliandra and Alys’ teasing. I didn’t bother fighting the smile their laughter brought to my face as Alysanne tackled Jocelyn into a pile of rope, both of them becoming a pile of flailing limbs.

I turned back to the view and sighed. I would have to think of some way I could convey the skills Jocelyn was lacking to her tomorrow. Maybe even convince her to have a reader. Learning difficulty or not, she was clever when she wasn’t forced to read from a book, she truly was. The issue was all three of her siblings were the classic book smart types and she was constantly comparing herself to them. 

How did that saying go? Judge a fish on its ability to climb trees and it’ll spend the rest of its life thinking it’s an idiot? How curious that I could remember that and not something that would help my daughter overcome her difficulties. Perhaps a visit to the College might be warranted? Gerardys’ students would be on placement so he shouldn’t be too busy… I tapped out an annoyed beat on the rail, the prosthetic I had under my glove causing it to clang discordantly. I knew the answers were some-

A scream split the air and I spun on my heel, heart feeling like it would pound right through my chest and my hand falling to the knives I still wore beneath my dress.

Jocelyn tumbled through the air and hit the deck with a thump I would hear in my nightmares for years to come. I stood there, frozen in horror, as she lay motionless on the deck.

Then Alys screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having some trouble creating and uploading the family trees so bear with me.


	127. Tension - Chapter 104

It was barely a conscious thought to sprint across the deck. All I could focus on was her unmoving body, her arm bent at an unnatural angle and the blood I could see dripping from a gash above her eye. Laenor reached her first, dropping to his knees and placing two shaking fingers on her neck. I almost threw myself down next to him, wanting to reach and grab at her but knowing I could not. I was aware, vaguely, of Laenor’s men herding the children away, hopefully to their cabins.

“Your Graces.” I glanced up and found a familiar face looming over us both, clutching his bag to his chest as if he feared he may need it to defend himself. “If you could… um… I need to get closer.”

It took Laenor pulling on my shoulders slightly to get me to rise. I leaned against him as the ship’s medic, a man I knew had trained under Gerardys, knelt down next to her and began his work. I held my breath, both of us silent and tense. It was the worst kind of wait.

Eventually, Jocelyn stirred and whimpered. I was at her side, holding her hand, before even the medic could react.

“Mama, it hurts,” she sobbed. The medic frowned and gestured over one of the waiting crew members. I didn’t catch their quick exchange but the man took off quickly enough. “Mama! Please! It hurts!”

My heart twisted and ached as I clutched her non-injured hand.

“It’ll be okay, little one. You be brave.” Her little face screwed up as she fought tears and I choked a little on tears of my own.

“You be brave for Papa and Mama,” said Laenor, kneeling down next to me, face solemn. “And I will take you on a tour of the shipyards at Hull when you are better.”

“I’m supposed to go with Mama tomorrow,” she whined, tears running down her face. I smiled, despite my own. 

“I think we can delay that for a few days,” I told her and she smiled. It was a small smile though, I could not imagine the pain she must be in. She was far braver than I, I would have been screaming by this point if her arm and how pale her face were any indication. The man the medic had sent returned with wine. It took me longer than it should have done to realise it was likely laced with some kind of sedative.

“Drink this,” I told her, before the medic could ask her to. “Drink this, I promise it will help with the pain.”

She scrunched her face up at the first sip. I did not let them have wine as a rule but the ship hardly stocked their usual drinks. 

“A little bit more, my Princess,” urged the medic. I nodded along encouragingly, aware of Laenor doing the same behind me. She gave in and drank deeply. It wasn’t long before it took effect and her eyelids began dropping closed. Once she had finally gone under, two men moved in, laying out a canvas stretcher and preparing to move her on to it. The medic stood up and turned to us.

“She’ll need the arm re-set and stitches on that gash but I’m hopeful she’ll be fine beyond that. When we get to Dragonstone, I’ll have her transferred to Dean Gerardys as a priority.” I sighed in relief at that.

“Thank you, Sanderson. There will be something extra for you in your pay,” Laenor said, faint with relief as well. Sanderson blushed and half bowed.

“Thank you, Your Graces, thank you, but I was just doing my job,” he insisted. 

“And you’ve done it well. You have my personal thanks,” I said and he went even pinker before bowing again and bustling off after my now sedated daughter. I wanted to follow but I knew I’d only get in the way. “Laenor? Get us to Dragonstone as soon as possible.”

“As long as you take the blame from your Father,” he replied but I could tell it wasn’t a serious objection. I didn’t answer as he strode away, shouting instructions to his men. The Princess Rhaenyra was a fast ship, as well as a big one. Father had made us promise that nothing short of an emergency would see us demonstrate that speed and leave them all behind. He had his heart set on us all arriving together.

I only realised I had been kneeling where our daughter had fallen when one of the crew made his way over with a bucket, mop and a meaningful look. I stood, cursing the pain in my knees, and got out of his way. It took me a while to realise we were already leaving the fleet behind and that Laenor had ordered the signal flag for medical assistance to be put up. I hoped Father would be told and wouldn’t be overly angry about it. No. He would not be angry about it because if he was, he would be having words with me. His need for spectacle did not trump my daughter’s need to see a doctor.

“Rhaenyra?” I whirled on my heel and sighed. Aliandra. She was dressed in her usual fare of Dornish fashion, picked out and bought over by her mother on the latest of her many visits. I could not begrudge her them though, her daughter had been taken from her at three and given over as a hostage to be raised by a stranger. It was a miracle she ever left when her visits came to an end.

“Aliandra, what’s wrong?” I asked, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. She reached up and clutched at it, squeezing my fingers tight briefly before letting go. 

“The others… we wanted to know how Jocelyn was?” There was a slight anxiety in her voice and I sighed, pulling her close into a half hug she accepted with rolled eyes.

“A broken arm and stitches but the medic believes she will be fine,” I told her and she sighed in relief. “What happened, Ali? Why was she climbing the rigging of all things?”

My ward frowned at the question before her mouth twisted in unhappiness.

“I didn’t really see,” she lied. I counted to ten and reminded myself that she was thirteen for all she liked to pretend to be a mature and sophisticated young woman. When she caught my stern look she sighed and ran an agitated hand through her hair. “I didn’t do anything!”

“I’m not saying you did, Ali, I just want to know why she was climbing the rigging,” I insisted gently. I was always careful to avoid the motherly tone I often took with even Jeyne and Aly. I was not her mother. An aunt at best and a jailer at worse. For all that she had received an upbringing worthy of a Princess of Dorne or even a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, she was a hostage to her countrymen’s good behaviour. Although, if Dorne rebels, I’m not about to hurt her. I wasn’t Ned Stark. I had raised the girl for all that she was technically my hostage. I wasn’t sure if Aliandra knew that though, her Mother certainly didn’t if the ideas she put in her head were any indication. I pushed aside my worry for Jocelyn with a deep breath and focused on Aliandra in truth.

Waves and the shouts of the crew were all I could hear as Aliandra thought that statement over, before sighing and looking aggrieved, her hand coming up to twist her long, dark hair about her finger. Something she only did when she was upset.

“Alyssa dared her to climb it.” I wanted to groan at the admission. Alys had been spoken to repeatedly about dares, especially those directed at her twin and Lucerys. “Jocelyn was boasting that she could climb all the trees in the Godswood at the Red Keep. So Alyssa dared her to prove it.”

“You won’t punish me, will you?” The question took me by surprise and she blushed. “I should have known better. I should have stopped Alyssa from daring her or at least stopped Jocelyn from doing it.”

“You aren’t at fault.” She was one of the oldest there. Jeyne being her age and Aly being only a year younger. Yet they were all still children. 

“You won’t tell my mother then?” she asked, sounding anxious. “I don’t want to be punished when she arrives. You know what she’s like.” 

“I won’t tell her,” I confirmed. “She’s not due to visit for a few months anyway.”

“She wants me to visit Dorne.” The statement was delivered as if it were no great matter, as if it were just a passing fancy of her mother, but I had raised Aliandra. I knew better. She wanted to visit Dorne more than anything else.

“I will speak to the King on the matter. Hopefully, we can arrange a visit for you before you reach your majority.” She nodded, pulling on the curl of hair she had wrapped around her finger, brown eyes staring into the distance as she momentarily lost herself to her thoughts. She was worried Dorne would not accept her. In truth, so was I. She knew Dorne’s history, she lived its culture and fashion and I had even arranged for someone to tutor her in the spear but was it enough?

Would she return and take up the reins of Dorne with little problem? Or would more flock to her Uncle’s banner like the Vulture King had? 

She certainly would know how to deal with snobby courtiers at any rate. King’s Landing had not been kind to its Dornish contingent. Whispers, rumours and even attacks in some rare cases. It had gotten better as time went on but I feared the poor initial showing had done much to sour our guests' opinion of us. They seemed friendly with Aliandra though, maybe that was a sign of hope?

“Do not worry so much, Ali. You are the Princess of Dorne,” I told her and she tugged on her hair again.

“My Uncle says I am more Targaryen than Martell now,” she whispered. I wanted to pull her into an embrace but I knew that would be a mistake. This was the first time she’d ever spoken such fears aloud. Jocelyn’s accident must have rattled her more than I thought if she were willing to share this with me.

“Your Uncle has been grasping at any reason for why he is more fit to rule Dorne than you since your Father died. It was why Lord Dayne ensured he got on a ship and did not come back,” I pointed out. “Your people did not support him then and they will not support him now.”

“But what if-” I caught her about the shoulders and looked into her dark brown eyes. 

“You are the Princess of Dorne. You are Aliandra Martell. You have already won the hearts of your court here. You have the full support of your Uncle and his family. You still have your loyalists. You are a Martell to your core, willing to put your own life in danger for the survival of your people.” She said nothing. I changed tact. “You can out-shoot nine out of ten of my men with a bow and out-fight almost half of them with your spear.”

That earned me a small smile. She was good with spear and bow but not as great as I was making out. She would be better when she had grown up a little more, I think, but it had been enough for Lord Aron to proclaim her Nymeria come again a few times. I’d had her learn a little of strategy and tactics from Laenor as well, just to sell the idea a little more.

“I am the Princess of Dorne,” she said. She smiled widely at me and I returned it gladly, then it faded and she bit her lip. “Are you angry at Alyssa?”

“We shall be having words, Ali, you may tell her that. I do not like being disobeyed.” Aliandra nodded, face serious. “But that will wait until we reach Dragonstone and I know how badly Jocelyn is actually injured. Until then, she can think about what she’s done.”


	128. Tension - Chapter 105

“I feared the worst when your ship left us behind.” It seemed I had badly misjudged my father’s reaction to our sudden departure. He’d barely disembarked before he’d set upon me in a panic. I’d explained the matter and he’d demanded to see Jocelyn. Not that there was currently much to see. Gerardys had tended to her arm and stitched the gash on her head shut before giving her something for the pain. Whatever he had given her was strong because she was snoring within minutes of taking it.

“I apologise for doing so,” I told him as we made our way back towards the hall. Ser Steffon lurked behind me, having only exchanged a nod with his Lord Commander. “But I fear we had no other choice.”

“Accidents happen, Rhaenyra, do not castigate yourself over it,” he replied, his smile wide. I paused and examined him. He was nearly fifty years old now and jogging towards fat once more, although he was nowhere close to the girth he had achieved before. He still had his moustache, I doubted even the Stranger could wrest it from him by this point, although it was grey now rather than Valyrian silver-gold. It made me happy to look at him. In canon he was nothing more than a blob at this point and suffering for it too. Dorne had given him what he needed to drag himself from his pit of despair and change himself for the better. 

Peace on the other hand… Peace was luring him into that mindset he’d had all those years ago. No, that was harsh, he was not nearly as bad as he had been. It was thinking he’d won that was causing the issue at the moment. 

He saw defeated foes, I saw old enemies preparing to strike once more. He saw clear signs of his, and my, victory and all I could see were my advantages slipping away. Even when I revealed what I knew about Larys, he had refused to believe it. Lyonel did not believe his son could be so devious, and my Father had given me an ultimatum: accuse him in open Court or drop the matter. Damn him, he knew I had no proof. When I had protested once more, Father had merely told me I had grown so used to fighting that I could not enjoy peace, that I saw enemies where there were none.

“Thank you, Father, for being so understanding,” I said, hiding my frustration. Larys Strong’s manipulations were not important at the minute. He had been left behind in King’s Landing with Maris to watch him, he was not likely to manage much under her supervision. Besides, he was Joffrey’s to deal with, I had promised my spymaster that much.

“My daughter, you need not thank me,” he said, resting a hand on my cheek with a smile. Then his smile fell, his eyes finding something over my shoulder. I blinked and turned to find Joffrey waiting patiently for me, his eyes solemn. At least I could take solace in the fact that little about Joffrey ever changed. His hair was longer, reaching his shoulders now, and his eyes bore signs of laughter once more, but he was much the same at thirty one as he had been at twenty one.

“Your Grace, there are some matters that require your attention,” he said politely, bowing low. I’d sent him ahead of our little fleet to ensure the castle was up to snuff. I had not been in residence in some time and the last thing I needed was for standards to have lapsed and for Alicent to notice.

“My apologies, Father, my work never ends it seems.” Viserys managed to drag his eyes from Joffrey back to me as I turned to face him once more. Then he forced a smile, evidently no longer feeling his earlier good cheer.

“I shall leave you to your duties then,” he said, as if relenting after a moment of silence stretched on just a beat too long. I caught his arms and stood on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek and he drew me close for a hug before striding off, Ser Lorent falling in behind him. After he was gone, I made my way towards my offices. Joffrey fell in behind me, as silent as I was, with Ser Steffon making up the last of our group. 

Joffrey must have predicted it would be my first stop because there was wine waiting for us on the table.

“Where is she?” I asked, pouring myself a goblet before passing the pitcher over. I did not mind saying such things in front of Steffon these days. He was loyal to me, even over my Father. A decade of service would do that.

“I do not know,” Joffrey replied. “None of my agents have reported seeing her and she has not made any of her check-ins for nearly two months.”

“Damn her, she was supposed to be back two months ago. No doubt that’s why she hasn’t bothered with the check-ins,” I hissed. Joffrey gave me a shrug before sipping at his wine. He had his own problems with his wife these days beyond the problems I had with her. I took a deep breath. At least this time I could be reasonably assured she wasn’t in a Lyseni pleasure house. “What of our guests?”

“Settling in well enough, although I do question why we needed them all here-”

“You should know my father by now, Joffrey,” I told him dryly, sipping at my wine. A dry white wine from the Riverlands that was a far cry from Arbor Gold but it would do in a pinch. “What are my siblings up to?”

“Aegon and Helaena are unpacking and discussing things of little note, Aemond is studying dragon lore and as for the other two…” he trailed off and I got the message loud and clear.

“With their mother.” He nodded in confirmation. If Aegon and Helaena had turned out better than their canon counterparts and the jury was still out on Aemond, then Daeron was unquestionably worse. A simpering mother’s boy that was more invested in Aegon being King than my oldest brother seemingly was. Worse still, when challenged on his attitude he would pretend he had done nothing wrong and cry into his mother’s skirts about it the first chance he got.

Viserra was nine. She was still learning who she was. Although at the moment what she was was the darling of the Court, much to Alicent’s glee. Jocelyn was too rough to be their perfect Princess which left Alys as Viserra’s only competition. Yet Alys was still sickly, and compared to polite, precocious Viserra? Yes, Alicent was very pleased indeed. 

“And my ladies?” I asked.

“They arrived well enough. They’re both in your rooms, awaiting you.” I smiled at that. Maris, Falena and Marya had been left behind in King’s Landing but Sab, that is Lady Sabitha Frey, and Sera had followed me here. With any hope my sixth Lady might grace us with her presence. I finished my wine and sighed, leaning back in my chair.

“Do you predict any problems for tomorrow?” I asked after a moment’s silence. He shook his head.

“The biggest threat is The Cannibal but he is on the far side of the Dragonmont currently. He took down a nearly grown dragon not three days ago, he’ll be resting now, the watchers report he was wounded in the struggle.” Something had to be done about that creature eventually. He had no defined range, instead attacking lairs and dragons all over the Dragonmont without rhyme or reason.

“And the others?” I asked.

“In their usual ranges. He will almost certainly go for Vermithor, you know?” I did know. Aemond wanted a big dragon and since Laena had failed to die and release Vhagar, he would only be pleased by the second biggest. The Bronze Fury.

“I know,” I said, debating pouring myself more wine. No, better not. I had one more issue to attend to today before I could truly relax. “My apologies Joffrey, I must leave you. I have a daughter to discipline.”

“Ah,” said Joffrey, pouring himself more wine. “Good luck with that task.”

I did not like the tone of his voice but it was an old argument. One not worth bringing up now. I rose from my seat and Ser Steffon fell in behind me as I left the office, heading for my daughter’s room. The castle was alive around me. Everyone knew what they were doing, no one was milling about without purpose. I could take pride in that at least, even the King’s Landing administration had its problems but Dragonstone ran like clockwork.

“Are you sure it’s wise to allow your brother a chance at the Bronze Fury?” asked Ser Steffon the moment the corridors we walked were empty. 

“Beyond finding someone to tame him before tomorrow, I’m not sure I have a choice,” I replied.

“You mentioned the possibility of using dragonseeds?” he said. Ser Steffon did not know the truth but he was privy to many secrets only my inner circle knew.

“I wouldn’t trust them to be loyal. We have no assurances the person we chose would not simply flee or defect,” I told him, thinking of dragonseeds in another time. Addam had been loyal, Nettles was, at a stretch… Ulf and Hugh however…

No. No dragonseeds. I did not need them yet. Hopefully I never would, they were a last resort kind of plan. One that promised to cause more trouble than it solved.

“Understood, Your Grace.”

We reached Alys’ room a moment later. It was silent but then, I hadn’t expected it to be anything else. I knocked on the door and a few moments later, Alys opened it, peering at me with wide eyes.

“Mama!” she said, throwing her arms about my neck as I staggered through the doorway. I laughed into her silver-gold hair. She wore it in ringlets, like Laena once had. Ironic, considering her relationship with her aunt was chilly at best. Not that it was her fault, that lay on Laena’s shoulders and Laena’s shoulders alone. “Mama, did we have to cancel the arrival celebration? I wanted to show everyone my new dress!”

I picked her up and cuddled her close. She was light, far too light for a girl her age. Small too, I sensed that she wouldn’t be that much taller than me when she was fully grown. Then again, she had always been small, even compared to children younger than her. At least she was not affected mentally by the circumstances of her birth. She was clever, learning quickly from both lectures and books.

“I am sorry, Alys, but you know Jocelyn was hurt.” She drew back and frowned, her small face scrunching up and her violet eyes shining in frustration.

“Jocelyn climbed the rigging. Why should we be punished because Jocelyn did something stupid!?” I raised an eyebrow and she crossed her arms, angrily.

“And was climbing the rigging her own idea?” I asked. Alys’ face morphed into triumph.

“Yes! She came up with the idea all by herself!” she told me proudly. “She was boasting about climbing trees and then she said she could easily climb the rigging.”

“So you dared her to prove it?” Alys froze, her eyes going wide. Then they narrowed.

“Aliandra told you,” she pouted. “I might have said that.”

“Might have?” I asked, eyebrow crawling further up my forehead. “Do you not remember?”

Alys stared at me for a moment and then looked at her feet. She stayed like that in silence for a while before a hand came up and rubbed at her eyes. When she looked at me again, tears were flowing down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry Mama! I am sorry! Please don’t punish me! Please! It was an accident.” I sighed and pulled her in close. She pushed her wet cheek into the crook of my neck and shivered in my arms. I frowned, pulling back.

“Are you cold?” I asked. Her room was relatively warm, she should not be shivering so.

“A bit. Mostly I have a headache and my tummy hurts a little,” she said, voice soft. I pulled her close again, burying my face in the hair on top of her head.

“Go rest, Alys. I shall send Gerardys to you as soon as he is free.” 

“Thank you Mama. I will wait for Gerardys here.” I pulled back and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

“Good girl. I’ll send him along the moment I am able.”


	129. Tension - Chapter 106

Night saw me lying awake in bed, gazing at the canopy of my bed as sleep refused to come easily. Next to me, Laenor snored away. Sometimes I envied his ability to fall asleep almost anywhere, and other days I skipped straight to just wanting to slap him for it. I wasn’t sure what point I was at at the moment. Perhaps that was a sign I had not been sleeping enough. There was too much to worry about, too much to plan, to fall asleep easily these days. After a few more minutes of listening to him snore, I gave up and slipped out of bed.

How I wished it were Laena by my side and not Laenor… but Laena was gods’ know where and Laenor could not be with Joffrey because of how many eyes were on us at the moment. I wrapped my robe around me, black silk with red trimmings, a present from Laenor a few years ago so that I would return his. When I left the room, Ser Erryk stood, jerking out of the daze he had been in. I smiled at him in the silvery moonlight and made my way through the castle.

It seemed wholly different at night, the moon’s glow lit it in a way the sun never could. Ten years under my rule had seen more love and attention poured into its structure than it had seen since the Doom and Aenar’s reign. And if I had taken great care to ensure the dragon imagery was brought down to acceptable levels then that was no one’s business but my own.

I wasn’t sure of my destination when I left my rooms but my feet seemed to have ideas of their own and it wasn’t long before I recognised that I was walking down one of the corridors that would lead me to what had been the Maester’s tower but now served as Gerardys’ home away from the office. There weren’t even ravens kept there anymore, Gerardys’ had been seized by the Citadel and since I had refused his replacement, none had been bought in to replace them.

It wasn’t too great an issue. If anything required my attention before my next visit, it was a simple matter to send a boat to King’s Landing crewed by oarsmen that were on retainer for such a situation. Laenor’s men, of course, you could tell because they waited until evening set in to start their drinking. One of my knights was on duty when I entered the ‘ward’ and he straightened before bowing.

Ser Alfred Broome. 

He had already betrayed me. When my old Castellan had passed away I’d selected Ser Vaemond Velaryon for the role. I imagine that with canon Rhaenyra in residence she had not needed to pick a replacement until the Dance had broken out and then she had picked Ser Robert Quince. I could not speak to Ser Robert’s abilities but Vaemond was good with numbers, ships and familiar with Driftmark. Also, without the obvious bastards of canon and Laenor’s ongoing survival, he had no claim to Driftmark and no ambition to fabricate one. In short, he had the skills I needed to link Driftmark and Dragonstone together as partners in trade and little downsides.

Ser Alfred had begun looking for a way to jump ship to Alicent’s side the day after it had been announced. Fortunately for me, he’d already been on Joffrey’s watch list, especially in this precise situation, and nothing had yet to reach Alicent that I didn’t want to. Of course, that was now, when misinforming Alicent was useful. If she insists on making the Dance happen, I have men on the island instructed to deal with a few problem members of my staff.

“Guard the door with Ser Alfred,” I told Erryk and the knight nodded, making sure Alfred left before him.

I dropped into the chair next to Jocelyn’s sleeping form and smiled down at her as she snored. She had awoken for supper and eaten quite a bit, although Gerardys said that was quite normal and to be expected, before falling back into a slumber when he gave her another dose of medicine for the pain. 

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there. I must have dozed off at some point because it was the doors to the ward opening that caused me to jerk back into the present. I readjusted myself in the chair, wincing at the various aches and complaints my body had from the angle I’d fallen asleep at. It wasn’t hard to deduce who had entered the ward. There were only three people Ser Erryk would let in without warning me; Laenor, Laena and Joffrey. No tapping meant it wasn’t Joffrey and Laenor would not awaken by himself until someone woke him.

“Laena,” I said, rubbing at a particularly achy spot on my side. “How nice of you to finally make an appearance.”

She didn’t answer straight away, instead grabbing a chair from somewhere behind me and placing it down oh so gently. She didn’t even make a noise when she dropped into it, even though she wore chainmail under her jerkin.

“I was looking into something,” she said finally, swinging her legs up and easing her boots off with a grimace. “For Joffrey.”

“He did not mention sending you on such a fact-finding mission,” I said, well aware my frustration with her was leaking into my voice. She paused, one boot off, and then sighed in defeat.

“That is because he did not know,” she whispered, turning towards me. “I am sorry. It was a risky undertaking but it paid off more than I could have imagined.” 

I looked at her as she turned to me and wanted to wince. She was tired, her eyes sunken and dark, but more than that… the road had not been kind to her. She was thin, thinner than she should be because her cheeks were gaunt and her cheekbones too pronounced. Her skin, normally tanned by the sun during her travels, was pale enough to match Lady Misery…

I said nothing to that. I had nothing to say to that. Whether we spent another year not speaking was entirely down to how useful her information was. I was being overly harsh again yet I had begged her to keep checking in, to keep me in the loop. To not simply run away again, to shut me out for over a year.   
She huffed at my silence before she pulled her other leg up. I watched as she seemed to struggle with the action… then she grimaced in pain, hand going to her side briefly before she pulled it away, as if I might not notice the action if she could do it quickly enough. 

“You are hurt.” Unfortunately, I was not as unobservant as she hoped. “How?”

“I’m not hurt, just stiff. Sleeping on rocks is a little more taxing on the body than sleeping on a feather mattress, Princess,” she hissed. 

“Get up,” I said, making up my mind. Anger helped. “Get up and stand in the next bay.”

She glared at me, some of her hair had escaped her braid and fallen across her face, ruining the effect somewhat. I met her eyes with a level stare of my own.

“I mean it. I am, as you so deftly reminded me, your Princess. Get up and stand in the next bay.” She stood and trudged over, reminding me of Jocelyn in full tantrum mode. The thought made me smile a little. Jocelyn was fond of Laena, she loved hearing her tales of adventure. I followed her over. It seemed she’d guessed my intention because she started struggling with her jerkin a moment before I reached her. I had to help her with most of her clothing, a testament to how ‘stiff’ her muscles were.

The lighting was not great but it was enough to see the damage wrought on her body. I circled her, heart hurting at the injuries both old and new - the old scar across her back from a Dornish spear, the arrow wound inflicted by a lucky clansman, three jagged wounds from some creature that had attacked her in the New Gift across her arm, one long and thin scar along her forearm from a hired assassin in Volantis and the one bisecting her lip, the one she had earned in a bar fight in a Lyseni brothel of all places. 

The Doom had given her two more for me to count, it would seem. I reached out and gently touched my fingertips to the mess of bruises across her torso, the centre of which was a nasty looking, half-healed puncture. Too wide to be a blade. I could see her ribs through her skin, I noted idly, as she hissed in pain. There was some kind of bite on her calf, angry and red. I’m surprised it had not forced her to limp. Gerardys would need to see to it whether she wanted to or not. It looked infected and I would not lose her to an infection. The skin on her knees was raw and when I caught her hands and brought them up, I could see they were littered with small cuts of their own.

“Slept funny,” I finally said. She gave me a weak smile, not quite meeting my eyes.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she replied, tangling our fingers together. “You fret too much.”

I dropped a kiss to her lips. It was risky… Jocelyn could wake up, Ser Erryk or Ser Alfred could open the door but I didn’t care at that moment. I loved my stupid, battered idiot of a girlfriend. She wound her arms around me and laid her cheek on the top of my head.

“If you must come home battered like this, then you will have to deal with me fretting,” I mumbled into her shoulder and she chuckled, before letting me go and catching my hand, bringing it up to the light. I shuddered as her finger probed where my littlest one should be. 

“You know I dislike that,” I told her, resisting the urge to snatch my hand back. She smiled sadly and let my hand drop.

“If Mellos and Runciter were still alive, I’d give them to Vhagar’s flames. I should have done when Mellos’ pride cost you that finger.” I couldn’t hold that intense gaze for long. “Could you fetch me my pack?”

I did so and then helped her dress in a clean shirt and breeches. We retook our seats next to Jocelyn, who had not stirred at all during my examination of Laena. Thankfully. Would I one day explain to them what Laena was to me? What Joffrey was to Laenor? I had not decided yet. Mayhaps it was best to let the matter lie, to never tell them, to leave them the comfort of knowing their parents loved one another passionately.

“What happened?” asked Laena, staring at her sleeping niece. I frowned, sensing the storm clouds of an argument on the horizon.

“She climbed the rigging and fell,” I replied, resolving not to mention Alys. Laena was quiet for a while and then she sighed, pushing her hair back from her face.

“I’m sure that was her own idea,” she said dryly. I scowled before I realised that I’d as good as confirmed her theory. “Of cou-”

“Enough,” I hissed. “I have heard this a thousand times. Enough.”

We sat in silence for quite a while.

“You need to open your eyes with that girl,” she said finally. “She’s a terror and you spoil her too much.”

I clenched my jaw and said nothing. If you believed Laena, Alyssa was responsible for every terrible event since the Doom and I’m sure my lover was busy working on pinning that on her as well. Just what kind of daughter does she think I would raise?

She ignored Alys’ kindness, her studiousness, her determination - would a child as evil as Laena claimed be polite to servants? To animals? To any beneath her? Even when she had never been told to? And I knew my staff would tell me if they thought otherwise. She was no Joffrey come again, just a ten year old too fond of the word ‘dare’.

“Rhaenyra, I’m serious.” I shot her a look and she met it with her own level stare. “Did you at least punish her?”

“She was ill. It would not have been appropriate,” I replied and she sighed again, running an aggravated hand through her hair and pulling more of the braid free.

“What was it? A tummy ache? Headache? I’m betting she’ll be perfectly fine today,” hissed Laena, eyes bright with anger and half out of her chair to tower over me.

“Enough!” My yell echoed about the ward for a moment and she raised an eyebrow. Pain made me look down and I realised my hands were clenched tight.

“Aunt Laena? Mama?” came Jocelyn’s tired and confused voice.

Shit.


	130. Tension - Chapter 107

“The servants say Lady Laena is back,” said Sab, leaning against the great oaken wardrobe and examining her nails. The way she said it implied it was a mere curiosity, a bit of gossip, but I knew Sab better than almost anyone else. Nearly a decade of service had seen to that and I could tell she had more interest than she liked to pretend. Sera finished fastening the shoulder cloak and dodged around me.

“Is it true? Is she? Oh, it has been too long! Little Luke and Rhaena have missed her fiercely.” I smiled at her enthusiasm. Sab did too, although I detected a bit of sadness there. I had long suspected my ‘sworn sword’ held a bit of a torch for Sera Strong.

“She got back last night,” I told them, to Sera’s delighted cheer. I hid my smile and turned to examine myself in the mirror, at least until a knock on the door disturbed me. Sab was the one to open it, moving aside to admit Joffrey.

“Good morning,” he said, dropping a handful of letters onto my table before stealing an apple from the fruit arrayed for my breakfast.

“Have you seen Laena yet?” asked Sera. He took a bite from his stolen prize and shook his head.

“I have been informed of her arrival but she has not yet visited me.” He went back to munching his apple as Sera frowned. I took pity.

“She is with Jocelyn, keeping her company and having herself seen to by Gerardys if she has any sense,” I told them and received three indulgent smiles in turn. After Jocelyn had awoken and realised she wasn’t dreaming her favourite aunt had returned she’d begged for stories until Laena had given in with a laugh. I had ordered iced milk with honey for Jocelyn and beef stew for Laena and left them to it after making Jocelyn promise that she would tell me if Laena did not eat everything she had been presented with. Now that she was home, she would be eating proper meals whether she wanted to or not.

“Tell me, were there any problems this morning?” I asked, adjusting part of my dress slightly.

“Alyssa is sick,” said Joffrey. I caught his eyes through the mirror and hated the look I saw in them. “The maids report that she was up several times during the night, although she did not vomit.”

‘Did not vomit’ was Joffrey’s way of telling me he thought she was faking the illness. Unlike Laena, he was never so bold as to say it to my face directly. Or Laenor’s for that matter. At least Joffrey was willing to acknowledge she her good behaviour and less likely to blow her bad behaviour out of proportion as his wife was wont to do. I held out my hand and Sera handed me the leather and silver prosthetic.

“You know what I meant,” I said, untangling the straps. “What of Aemond?”

“The guards saw your brother off and the watchers report no incidents as of yet,” reported Joffrey, eyebrow raised. He did not question me on why Laena would need to be treated by Gerardys, he had seen the scars just as I had. “He asked about Vermithor before he left.”

Sab scoffed and even Sera looked discomfited. I just sighed, pulling the leather straps of my prosthetic into place before pulling my gloves on.

“It was a predictable move on his part. What of my other siblings?” I asked.

“Aegon rose early and headed to the training yard. Laenor promised to watch him-” I cut him off, frowning.

“Without Helaena? She always goes with him to shoot?” I asked. Joffrey shrugged.

“Their maid says she slept in this morning,” he told me. 

“Have a separate maid drop by mid-morning to see if she is well,” I ordered and he bowed in response. The mocking gesture did not rankle although I admit to amusement when Sab used it as an excuse to lean over and ruffle his hair. “What of Father and Alicent?”

Daeron and Viserra would not be up yet, both enjoyed their long mornings in bed and frequently broke their fasts in their quarters before beginning their lessons in the mid-afternoon. With Grand Maester Edmund, of course, a competent replacement for the poor, deceased Mellos yet an unwelcome one. For me, at least. Alicent had been quite pleased by him.

“They are breaking their fast together in the hall,” Joffrey told me. “Along with Aemon and Aemma.”

“Then I think I shall join them,” I said cheerfully. “Sera, Sab, could you go on ahead? I have something to discuss with Joffrey.”

“Of course!” said Sera, cheerfully as Sab caught her by the arm and steered her away.

“What is it?” asked Joffrey once they were gone a few minutes had passed.

“Laena claims she has information you will be very interested in. I am of the opinion that she wouldn’t have disappeared for two months unless she thought it necessary,” I told him. “Arrange a meeting, I want to know what it is.”

He nodded thoughtfully before pushing himself to his feet and offering me his arm. I took it with a smile and we left for the main hall.

“How are Luke and Rhaena taking Laena’s return?” I asked.

“I have not told them yet. I did not have an excuse for why she did not rush to see them. Now I do.” An old frustration bubbled in his tone. I sympathised with him, with Laena’s children, but I also knew just how bad the place Laena had been in when she’d first left for Essos. Two months after Rhaena had been born she’d taken off, leaving Luke feeling like he’d been abandoned and Joffrey holding their newborn child. 

Postpartum depression, guilt for a massacre that wasn’t her fault... She was better now, not quite herself once more, but better. 

“She will be delighted to see them once again,” I said, shaking myself out of old memories. “I take it they are breaking their fast also?”

“Alongside Rhaenys and Corlys,” he told me, smiling broadly at the thought of his children. “And your brood.”

“My brood? I only have four and two of those are bed bound,” I replied, false offence suffusing my tone. He snorted.

“As if you have not adopted the rest of them. You adore Alysanne, Jeyne and Aliandra too much to not count them as your own on some level,” he teased and I sighed. It was true, to a degree. I had even mentally adopted Rolph and his Father was in the picture far more than the girls. We had left him behind in King’s Landing, spared from his duties to enjoy a small holiday with his Father.

Neither of us mentioned Luke or Rhaena, even if I did include them in the mental count of my own children.

Joffrey took my silence as an admission of defeat and began humming to himself cheerfully as we passed maids and servants. Before we entered the hall however, he caught my arm and drew me aside.

“Before I tell the children… how did she seem?” I hesitated and he sighed, running a hand through his long hair. “How bad?”

“She hasn’t been eating properly, or sleeping properly for that matter, and she’s got a hole in her stomach and an infected wound on her leg.” He winced.

“I will tell the children she is ill then, better warn them before they go charging in to see her in that state,” he decided. I nodded and he took my arm once more. The hall was a riot of noise and my Father was at the centre of it. He had seated himself at the high table with Alicent on one side and Rhaenys on his other and was shouting down at various knights and lords that had accompanied us to Dragonstone.

“Daughter! You’re late this morning!” he roared as I approached. Evidently not even Joffrey’s presence could dampen his mood. Regardless, Joffrey soon abandoned me to speak to Rhaena and Luke and I was left to face my Father and Alicent alone. Although it appeared Alicent had slept as well as I had if her thousand yard stare was an indication.

“I was visiting Jocelyn, Father,” I told him. “And Alys is ill once more.”

“Ill? What is wrong?” he asked, smile fading a little.

“Nothing serious, Father, just the usual. She will recover soon enough,” I told him and his smile returned to full power. “Good morning, my Queen, I hope you slept well.”

“Well enough,” replied Alicent, looking distracted. No doubt she was worrying for Aemond, she hadn’t even made a comment about Alys being ill. I took pity.

“The watchers have reported no news yet and I have been assured The Cannibal is licking his wounds far from where Aemond is heading.” Her green eyes found mine and she smiled thinly although none of the tension leaked from her.

“My thanks, Rhaenyra,” she managed, nodding graciously. “And I hope Princess Alyssa recovers soon.”

See Father, we can play nicely at times.

“It is no trouble, my Queen. Now, I must attend to my own little dragons.” I swept off, leaving Father beaming at Alicent like I smiled at Aemon when he presented me with artwork. Quite the little artist was my son.

Aemon had been born after Laenor had returned from the Conquest, made the same way the twins had been although it had been… easier with Aemon. We were more comfortable with one another; I was not so terrified and Laenor not so on edge. The first time… it had hurt my pride terribly, but with Aemon, it was not so. We were able to laugh and joke about it instead of acting like it was some shameful secret. The pregnancy had been easier too, less terrifying the second time around and without the pronounced symptoms the twins had given me.

Aemma… I had not thought Aemma’s conception even possible… it still makes me blush to think of it.

I had been in something of a rage when Laena had left without permission, fleeing in the night as if she feared I would have her imprisoned should I learn of her plan, but by the time she started to show up in the pleasure houses of Lys that rage had turned to grief and ennui. Laenor had held me close during those times, trying to give me the love I craved. Hells, he’d even named his damnable ship after me. That had been an honour, a show of love I had not been expecting, given that he had intended to name it _Sea’s Kiss_. In the aftermath we somehow… somehow ended up with an ‘oops’ baby of all things. 

“Mama!” screeched Aemma happily. I scooped her up and set her on my knee as I sat down at the high table. She was covered in jam but that was typical of her, especially given that my ladies had arrived late and my charges were unwilling to risk the tears she often pulled out to defend her stickiness. She squirmed in my grasp as Sera handed me a cloth and I wiped her down. She knew not to fake cry for me. I knew when my children were faking. “Mama, I wanted that!”

“There is plenty in the proper receptacles, Aemma. You don’t need to smear yourself with it,” I scolded and she pouted unhappily. I let her get back to attacking the food and turned to Aemon, who was waiting quietly for my attention. When he realised he had it, he perked up, straightening in his seat and I smiled.

“Good morning, Aemon, did you sleep well?” I asked.

“Yes, Mama, I did and I went for a walk this morning too.” I beamed at him and he blushed. He’d always been an early bird. “Dragonstone is very pretty! Do you think I might have a chance to draw before we leave?”

“If you so wish,” I told him, amused. He was more interested in art than swords at the moment, I loved that about him, when it did not worry me at least. 

“Can we explore the town?” asked Jeyne, leaning past him, her eyes bright. “I saw a market with lots of pretty things when we rode through!”

Behind her Aliandra was nodding and Alysanne was pretending to frown because a Bracken had suggested it but I could tell she also wanted to go. On my lap, Aemma had gone still and was staring up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Mama, can I see the pretty things?” I caught Sera’s eye and she grinned before turning to Sab, who merely rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“Sera and Sabitha will take you but you must do as they say!” I told them all sternly.

“Do you think they will have new colours, Mama?” asked Aemon, eyes bright with excitement. 

“I do not know, Aemon,” I said as Aemma wriggled from my knee to go and harass Sera with questions about ‘pretty things’. “Have you given more thought to making your own?”

His face screwed up in thought. One of their tutors had bought the idea up as a way of getting him interested in other subjects alongside learning history through art and beginning to practise his swordplay to learn how to better convey movement on paper. He was prevented from answering by Joffrey appearing at my elbow and bending low to whisper in my ear.

“Rhaenyra, Alyssa is not in her room.”


	131. Tension - Chapter 108

When the knight saw me stalking down the hallway, he struggled in the grasp of his captors. The two men in Targaryen livery kept good hold of him though, and eventually Ser Rogar strode past me and kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air. I heard Ser Steffon snort in derision and the guards hauled him back up onto his knees none too gently.

“What. Happened.” I managed through clenched teeth. The man whimpered at the ice cold tone of my voice. 

“Y-Your Grace!” he said, trying to bow only for one of the men flanking him wrench him back up. “Your Grace! Please! I swear I guarded the room! I did not leave my post nor did I sleep, I swear on the lives of my children!”

After Joffrey had informed me, I’d been frozen in an odd combination of fear and rage for long enough that Rhaenys and Corlys picked up on something being wrong. Once I’d explained it to them they had moved into action. Corlys had headed towards the docks to quietly raise as many of his and Laenor’s crew, as possible for a search of the town and docks. He was seventy three now and much the same as he had always been, although with considerably more wrinkles and laugh lines and less muscle. Time had also forced him to start dressing warmly, lest he catch his death because he wanted to show his chest off to everyone.

Rheanys had gone with Joffrey to organise the children and begin a search of the castle. Time had been very, very kind to the Queen Who Never Was. She was still as tall as she had ever been with the same striking features although her hair was beginning to turn silver at the temples now, not a surprise given that she was fifty two. The blade she had taken during the Conquest still troubled her on occasion which limited her flying at times but apart from that she was as hale and healthy as her husband.

The knight’s throat bobbed in terror as I met his eyes and stared him down. 

“Ser Rogar!” I barked. The man straightened. A fuck-up on his men’s part reflected badly on him. A fuck up of this magnitude… I had already decided that if Alyssa was hurt he would be stripped of his title. “How many children does he have?”

Ser Rogar’s eyebrows rose in surprise before they furrowed in thought.

“Three, Your Grace. Two sons and a daughter,” he finally replied. “They live in town.”

“And you would swear on all their lives that you did not fail in your duty?” He was shaking now but I wasn’t inclined to mercy. If my daughter was hurt… There was a moment’s silence before the threat sank in.

“Y-yes, yes! I would swear! Plea-” I cut him off.

“Has this man ever fallen asleep at his post before?” Ser Rogar was quick to reply.

“No, Your Grace, I make sure none of my men ever do. I run random checks, if they are ever caught, they are stripped of their position.” The man was nodding along desperately, tears now running down his face. I studied him and made up my mind. 

“I leave him to you to deal with then, Ser Rogar. I am satisfied he was not derelict in his duties.” The trembling man sighed in relief as he was released by the other guards. Ser Rogar half-bowed in response and I detected some relief in his frame too. 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Ser Rogar. “Shall I have my men join the search?” 

“Do so but as quietly as possible for the moment,” I told him and he bowed again. “I shall release your squire to you once I have finished questioning him.”

He moved off, his men dragging the guard with them and I stepped into her room. It was the same as it had been yesterday. The blankets and covers on her bed had been thrown aside to reveal two pillows stacked against each other, presumably to provide the illusion of the bed still having an occupant.

“They were fooled by this?” I asked.

“It would appear so,” said Ser Steffon, examining the room. “Perhaps the maids should be spoken to.”

“They will be,” I promised. “Still, no struggle and she deliberately tried to hide her absence…”

“She left by her own will,” concluded Ser Steffon for me, lifting open one of her trunks and finding only dolls and dresses. He let it slam close with a loud snap and stepped past me, sticking his head out the window and peering down. “Probably through here. Who is in the room below?”

“No one, to my knowledge. It should be empty, why?” I asked as he pulled his head back inside.

“The window below is open.” A quick trip down there told us that the dust had been disturbed recently by at least two people. One of which arrived via the window and was pulled in by her larger compatriot.

“Damn her. So, she had help, did she? Not Aemon, Aemma, Rhaena, Aly or Jeyne - they’re all too small to have made these footprints,” I mused, as Ser Steffon finished examining the room. It had yielded nothing but a half melted candle and more footprints. “Aliandra, Lucerys or Addam then?”

Aliandra was my first stop. My ward was agitated beyond belief when I arrived, pacing back and forth whilst curling her hair around her finger. She sat when she saw us, perching on the edge of one of her couches.

“Did you find her?” she asked, dark eyes wide in fear. Fear of what, I was not sure. Me, punishment and Alys being injured were all possibilities. She did not look tired, had she stayed up all night to help Alys escape then she would almost certainly be struggling to keep her eyes open.

“We did not. It seems she left her room via the window so as to not alert the guard. Given she is three stories up, this implies she had help,” I told her and she froze, dark hair curled around her fingers.

“I swear to you on all the gods I did not help her! I did not know!” the girl begged and I found myself believing her. The two were good friends which would make her prime suspect but that also counted against her. Aliandra was not an idiot. If Alys had confided in her a plan to run away, Aliandra would have come straight to me. She knew well that Alys was fragile and sickly, any terrible fate could befall her without protection.

“She mentioned nothing to you? She has not been behaving strangely?” Aliandra paused at that and then opened her mouth before hesitating and closing it. “What?”

“She… well, before we left King’s Landing she asked me to cover for her one afternoon. She had some papers with her and she said she had to deliver them to a friend but she wouldn’t tell me whom,” she said, squirming in her seat. “But it was at least a week before we were due to sail and she never mentioned it again!”

I sat back and closed my eyes. If that matter was related to this, and there was no guarantee it was, it could be any of the staff that we had brought over with us. That significantly widened the suspect pool, although papers? I would have expected money… actually, I would have expected whichever fool she had picked to help her to report it to me or someone in charge so that I could have dealt with this before my daughter went missing!

“I swear, Rhaenyra-” I opened my eyes and forced a smile.

“I believe you, Aliandra. You would not be so stupid but I had to ask.” She nodded, still looking worried. “Collect the others and enjoy a trip into town with Sera and Sabitha.”

Her worry gave way to relief and I smiled at her.

“Thank you!” she said, rising out of her seat. I rose also.

“You should not be punished for someone else’s actions but if you do hear anything or see her-”

“I will tell you! Or well, Lady Sera or Lady Sabitha.” I nodded and left for Lucerys’ room.

When I got there he was sitting with Joffrey and Rhaena, the two siblings curled close to their Father. Luke looked more like Daemon everyday, although that had long since ceased to bother me. He was boisterous, loud and impulsive but he was also unfailingly kind. His silver-gold hair was cut short, I think because he was mimicking Laenor although at eleven he was nowhere close to a beard. Rhaena was Laena in miniature although her hair was Joffrey’s dark brown. Small for her age, much like Alys was, and if I were to be completely honest, as Laena and Joffrey were supposedly being about Alys, spoilt beyond measure. Apparently she and Aemma were best friends although I could not imagine my quiet little girl getting along with such a terror.

“I thought it best to wait for your appearance before I took them to see Laena,” said Joffrey. Luke looked worried but not the fear I would expect from him if he thought he was close to being caught as Alys’ mysterious helper. Rhaena just glared at me, no doubt she resented being held back from seeing her mother after Laena had been gone for so long.

“I have just a few questions,” I said gently. Joffrey tapped both his children on the shoulders and they reluctantly sat up to face me properly. “Alys had help to leave her room, did she mention this plan to you?” 

“No,” said Luke, frowning. “She was just being her usual self.”

“And that means?” I asked gently. He looked at his Father, even more worried but it was Rhaena that answered me. She curled her knees close to her chest and glared at me as she did so.

“She was being mean! She was teasing Luke and Jocelyn about having small dragons and Aemon, Aemma and me about not having any!” she burst out. Joffrey froze, eyes wide.

“Alys doesn’t have a dragon,” I pointed out dryly. “And will not be getting one until she is two and ten at least.”

“Don’t be foolish Rhaenyra,” Joffrey burst out. “You are cleverer than this!”

I swallowed my rage. Screaming at him would not be conducive to finding my daughter. Not to mention the bad example it would set, I had no doubt the children would be eager to spread tales of my anger about the group. Instead, I took a deep breath and fixed him with a look.

“What do you-” I stopped as what he was getting at hit me like a brick to the face. “No… no, she would not be so foolish.”

“Would she not?” asked Joffrey. I stood up and clenched my hands tightly, ignoring the pain that brought.

“Do you dare say it to my face now? Or will you rely on Laena to do it once more?” My voice was cold. Joffrey watched me for a good long while before sending Luke and Rhaena from the room. When he turned back, there was fury etched in his face too.

“We both know she can manipulate you with ease. She is spoiled. She has a nasty streak. How many times has she escaped punishment with faked illness even Aemma can see through?” he asked and that fact was like a punch to the chest, driving the breath from my lungs. “You favour her so obviously that even your other children feel they can not complain.”

It was hard to tell when Joffrey was lying, downplaying events or omitting the truth but it was always easy to tell when he was telling the truth and nothing but the truth. His features had morphed into triumph. 

Damn him! Damn Laena!

I would know!

I did not have time to formulate a response because somewhere a bell began to ring. We both froze, previous anger forgotten, as we remembered what that bell signified today of all days. Two curious heads poked around the doorway Joffrey had sent them through and then the room exploded into action. 

I was first out but Joffrey was not far behind, surprisingly speedy despite his cane. Ser Steffon was behind, herding the two children ahead of him, his armour clanking as we made our way down stairs and through corridors. The entirety of Dragonstone seemed to be rushing towards the agreed location. Of course the others were there before us, they had been waiting with bated breath for his return.

“Which one is it?” I asked a guard who was peering through a far eye, already knowing the answer in my heart. 

“Vermithor,” replied the guard, tone grim. “He’s got the Bronze Fury.”


	132. Tension - Chapter 109

It seemed the entire courtyard was holding its collective breath as the vast bulk of Vermithor, second only to Vhagar in size, cast us all into shadow as it came in for landing. I forced myself to tear my gaze from the dragon to examine the crowd. Aegon’s grin was wide, Daeron and Viserra were curled close to Alicent… Alicent looked as if all her dreams were coming true. A son of hers riding the dragon of the Old King. Actually, it probably was a dream come true. Even Father looked proud, his chest puffed out and a smile so wide I feared he’d strain something.

Then Vermithor landed, its rider sliding off its back with an audible thud and a stagger, and all the smiles died.

The silence of the crowd was deafening as Alys regarded us all before seemingly falling backwards onto the mass of her dragon. That got me moving, shoving some of Aemond’s river knights aside to reach her. Joffrey was in pursuit behind me but it was Father that beat me to her, his face a mask of worry. She smiled at him weakly as he pulled her into a hug, her tiny arms only just able to wrap completely around his bulk.

Whispering broke out across the courtyard, interspersed with some cheers. Mostly though, people were confused.

“Grandpapa,” she mumbled, clearly tired. “Look, I have a dragon now.”

“Indeed you do!” he laughed, putting her down gently. Then he turned to me with tears in his eyes. “She’s just like her namesake! Who else but my mother would have done such a thing! Except my daughter, of course!”

Her grin only widened, then she seemed to notice my shock and horror and it dimmed considerably. I could barely summon words… my daughter… a dragon that size…

The reality of just how much danger she had been in hit me and I took a deep breath, willing myself to be steady.

“Are you angry with me, Mama? I’m sorry. I just wanted a dragon like Jocelyn.” I stared at her, her little chest rising and falling with the exhaustion of trekking up a mountain and taming a dragon. Then I stared at Vermithor, the second largest dragon in existence and Jaehaerys’ mount…

As quickly as my horror had come, relief flooded through me and I rushed forward to pull her close, laughing with the force of it. She sank into the embrace happily, her little hands tangling in my dress. I lifted her up and twirled her around, my earlier anger at her disappearance gone in the face of the sheer knowledge she was here and okay. 

“Angry? No, no - as long as you’re okay...” I told her breathlessly as I set her down. She leaned against me and I could feel how warm she was through her thin clothes. Worry crept its way back in as Laenor crashed to a halt next to us and set about his fussing. I wanted to laugh again, to pull her close and never let her go.

I caught sight of Alicent and was pulled back into the present unpleasantly. She would need to be watched. She looked as if she might throw up or decide to attack my daughter where she stood. She wasn’t even bothering to hide the fury that sent her face pale and her youngest children fleeing to their older brother in fear.

Even Aegon looked discomfited when he met my eyes. He had helped Aemond research Vermithor and dragon lore for years… he would have something to say about Alys beating him to the punch. Still no sign of Helaena… damn, this would not look good to any of them.

I looked at the great dragon my daughter had claimed and swallowed back my no doubt hysterical giggles. Who could have thought? Who? I had been resigned to the fact that Aemond would claim Jaehaerys’ dragon… and my daughter had instead.

“Rhaenyra,” whispered Joffrey. “If Alyssa just climbed a mountain whilst ill and wearing a tunic that thin, we should probably get her seen by Gerardys.”

He had a point and she had felt warm to the touch when I held her and she had been ill the night before.

“Laenor!” I called. “We are taking her to Gerardys!”

“Come on, little one,” he whispered to her. “Let’s get you seen to before your mother worries herself half to death.”

It felt like the eyes of the world were on me as we left. My legs felt like jelly as I wobbled my way to the old Maester’s tower. It was all I could do not to stop every few moments to reassure myself that she was really there. Should I be thankful that I had only realised how easily she could have died after it was apparent she was alive and well?

I did not know whether to laugh or cry and that same indecision was still gripping me by the time we found Gerardys, Laena and Jocelyn. Alys was laid down on a bed and Gerardys was soon examining her with a concerned look on his face. I seated myself next to Laena and Jocelyn and gazed at my daughter.

“She claimed Vermithor,” I heard Joffrey whisper to his wife, yet I could not summon my usual ire over the matter. I could not even summon it when I felt Laena’s glare on the back of my head.

“Ill, was she?” she asked finally. I heard Joffrey sigh and in the corner of my eye, Laenor’s gaze swung to his sister. “Yet well enough to climb the Dragonmont?”

“She has paid for it,” I pointed out, feeling the need to defend that at least. “She’s running a fever.”

“And that is punishment for disobeying your orders and taming Vermithor?” Her tone was tart and I swallowed. It was not punishment but…

I turned to them, dragging my eyes from Alys. Jocelyn watched me with wide, violet eyes. Confused, she turned to Laena for clarification. As if she did not believe Alys could have truly tamed Vermithor and I was surely somehow mistaken. I remembered Joffrey’s revelation from before her landing with a guilty start.

“But… but you banned everyone from taming a dragon from the Dragonmont before they were six and ten like Grandpapa did with Uncle Aemond?” she said in a small confused voice. “Why did you let Alys go up?”

I stared at her, mouth hanging open and Laenor answered for me.

“Alys did not ask for permission,” he said gently. “She will be punished for that, do not worry. Your mother is waiting until she is well enough to appreciate what she did wrong.”

Joffrey caught my eye and nodded to the corner, incurring a suspicious look from Laenor.I laid my hand on his knee and got up.

“You need to punish her,” Joffrey said quietly. “Even if you don’t yet realise what she has done is wrong, you need to.”

I could feel Jocelyn’s gaze on me, despite Laenor and Laena doing their best to try and distract her from the matter. Did he assume...

“I am well aware of that,” I breathed, wondering why my knees still felt like jelly and my heart still raced. He tilted his head as if puzzled at my response. “She went up the Dragonmont...” 

Yet she had only done what I myself had done… and she was older now than I had been then. Could I truly punish her for following my bad example? My gaze went to her as Gerardys listened to her chest. 

She looked so small. No… No, I had to. If I didn’t, Aemon would be next and Aemma as well. Jocelyn scowled at her bed sheet and I bit my lip. She had disobeyed me, planned this little trip before we’d even sailed for Dragonstone.

“How did I miss it?” I groaned as the implications of that unpleasant thought made themselves clear.

“She is as clever as her mother,” he said dryly. “And twice as spoiled.”

“You say she is spoiled,” I said. “Maybe she is. Maybe I should be angry and maybe I should yell and rage at her…”

“I would not ask you to, I know well how traumatising a screaming match with you is,” he said and I recognised his tone with a flash of annoyance, the tone he took when he was playing the gracious victor. “I am not saying you need to be angry… just apply consequences. This is an escalation.”

I took a few more deep breaths.

“Yet how? Do I ground her? Ban her from the library? Have her struck? No. No, the punishment must be related to the crime.” Of that, I was certain. When Jocelyn grew angry and struck other children, she was banned from the training yard. When Aemma stayed up past her bedtime to read, her book was taken away.

Yet what punishment fits the crime of taming a dragon? We made our way back over to Jocelyn and I dropped a kiss on her forehead, being sure to avoid her stitches and the truly impressive bruising that had formed around them. 

An idea formed in my mind as Laena took Joffrey’s hand as he settled beside her. An idea that could kill three birds with one stone if I were lucky.

“Your sister has done something terribly bad by sneaking out in the dead of night,” I told Jocelyn and her eyes lit up. Did I truly fail to acknowledge Alys’ wrongdoing to that degree? “So she will not get to choose whom she takes her riding lessons with.”

Black eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“But, my little warrior, you do. I know Grandmama Rhaenys wanted to teach you, as did Auntie Laena and Papa but I also want to teach you. I promise that if you choose me, I will never be too busy for you.” Laena glanced at Joffrey, confused, but Joffrey hadn’t yet seen my plot either. Jocelyn pushed herself into a sitting position and gazed at me.

“You would teach me to fly Morrigan?” she asked in that same small voice. I smiled, hoping it wasn’t too pained, and caught her hand.

“If you want me to, I would be honoured.'' One arm wrapped around my neck as she flung herself forward to cuddle into me. I heard Laenor chuckle delightedly at the scene. She drew back, looking excited.

“When can we start? Mama, can we start soon!? Morrigan is here on the island so we could start tomorrow!” I pointed to her arm and she glanced down before frowning unhappily. “My arm doesn’t hurt. Please, Mama?”

“We shall read dragon lore together,” I told her. “In the comfort of my offices until your arm is better. Then I will teach you how to ride.”

She would have to be happy with that. I had first hand knowledge of what could happen if a break went bad. She seemed to be on the same track because her eyes travelled down to the prosthetic hidden by my glove. Then she scrunched her face up and nodded seriously. Laenor covered his mouth with his hand to hide his amused grin.

“But Mama, shall we be able to start tomorrow?” I turned to find Alys. She gave me a grin and clambered into Laenor’s lap. I smiled in relief, before remembering my resolve to punish her, regardless of whose example she had followed and how much it had benefited me. 

“You may if your tutor allows you,” I told her and she frowned. 

“But I want you to teach me, Mama? You’re teaching Jocelyn.” I winced at the tiny voice she said it in. She was so frail, for a moment I nearly wavered, until Joffrey cleared his throat and I remembered myself.

She’d tamed Vermithor, I told myself. It had been dangerous and ill thought out. Aemond would be after her and the Greens would consider her greater target than usual. She had tricked me, lied to me…

When I thought of it that way... anger stirred in my gut.

“You disobeyed me. You went up the Dragonmont. You lied to me,” She sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. 

“But Mama, I didn’t want Aemond to get the dragon! He’s nasty and he didn’t deserve it,” she explained, fighting tears. “And you did the same thing when you were younger! I just wanted to be like you!”

I forced my face to remain in its stern expression even as my heart hurt with the knowledge.

“And I tricked him! He helped me take Vermithor right from beneath his nose!” I stared at her and even Joffrey let out an impressed whistle. The she added in a begrudging tone. “Well, Aunt Helaena helped too, but she only helped a little bit! She didn’t know either!”

“How did you trick them?” asked Laenor, seeming genuinely curious. I filed away that information about Helaena’s involvement for later.

“Remember when The Cannibal went into his home? And the watchers sent you a letter about him moving? I gave that letter to Aemond and I told him that if he helped me claim Silverwing I’d tell him where Vermithor moved to.” Okay, maybe my daughter was slightly more devious than I had thought. 

“Very funny,” said Laena dryly. “But have you thought about the consequences?”

“I got the dragon first! He can’t have it now,” Alys said, her silver gold eyebrows coming together in an angry V. “Mama, tell her!”

“He can not take it from you,” I replied. “But he will be angry. His friends will be angry… Do you not understand? What you did...”

“Was wrong,” finished Laena. “No matter the result.”

“I got Vermithor though. So will you teach me? With Jocelyn?” she asked as I recovered.

“No! You have to be punished!” said Jocelyn, looking at me as if she expected me to give in. Alys blinked and her bottom lip quivered. I sighed.

“Jocelyn is right, Alys. So as punishment, you don’t get to decide who teaches you. I do.” She glared at her sister as Jocelyn glared right back before turning to me sullenly.

“Alright, so who is teaching me?” I caught Laenor’s eye and tried to communicate that he needed to keep a good hold of her as I sensed she definitely would not like my decision.

“You needn’t sound so upset, Alys. Your Aunt Laena is the best rider of our generation.” It took about three seconds for that to sink in. Then Joffrey’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair, Laenor grinned widely and Laena and Alys exploded into furious denial and screaming.


	133. Tension - Chapter 110

“Mama! Please,” begged Alys, squirming on Laenor’s lap. There were tears in her eyes, I noted with a wince. “Mama, please, Auntie Laena doesn’t like me! She’ll be mean! Please don’t make her be my teacher.”

“She is not making me do anything. I refuse,” said Laena icily. Joffrey placed his hand over hers and she paused in her tirade, glancing back at him, confused. He leaned in to whisper something in her ear but I was distracted by Jocelyn.

“Why does she get to be taught by Aunt Laena!? That’s not a punishment!” she asked, angry tears in the corners of her eyes. 

“And what should her punishment be, little one?” I asked Jocelyn gently. My firstborn furiously rubbed at her eyes before turning to Laena in appeal. Laena for her part appeared to be lost in thought about whatever Joffrey had just told her. Finding no help there, Jocelyn pouted and sank into the bed. When I reached for her hand, she pulled it away and fixed me with such a glare my heart hurt. Yet before I could deal with that, Alys gave a furious screech and struggled in Laenor’s arms, clawing at his bare arms, leaving angry red marks behind.

“Very well,” said Laena. Alys froze, staring at her aunt with a shocked expression. One that mirrored Jocelyn’s perfectly. “I’ll teach Alys.”

My sigh of relief came too soon though because Laena was not done. I perhaps should have consulted her before bringing it up but I had always been of the opinion punishment should be swift, not some drawn out mess.

“On two conditions,” she elaborated. “One, that I have total control over her lessons and two, I decide if her skipping them was acceptable and her punishment if it is not.”

“No!” screeched Alys, suddenly desperate. “No! Mama, she will punish me for everything! She will be mean! Mama, please!”

I met Laena’s eyes. Was that true? I did not think so, if I were forced to think objectively. Laena took riding, and teaching, as seriously as Rhaenys did. She would not risk compromising Alys’ lessons for petty reasons even if I had no doubt she would be strict with her.

And after this? Yes, strict was what Alys needed. Some part of that numb shock became determination.

“I agree to those terms,” I said. She sighed in relief and I did not miss Jocelyn’s smile brightening up her face once more as she no doubt imagined Laena given free reign with Alys.

“Mama…” whined Alys, staring at me. “Mama, please, I only wanted to be like you.”

“And your mother was punished also,” said Laenor. “She was banned from all her friends and the library for nearly a month!”

True… but how had Laenor known that? He had been on Driftmark, his parents still sulking because of Rhaenys being passed over twice. I am sure I never told him of such in our letters either. Alys’ eyes narrowed at the revelation though and Jocelyn’s smirk became wider, bordering on a shark-like grin. Then Alys slumped against Laenor and closed her eyes.

“May I go to sleep now, Papa?” she asked, sadly. He gave me a pained look before scooping her up and carrying her over to the bay Gerardys had made up for her. As he drew the thick velvet curtains around it, I heard her ask if he would tell her a story and I was forced to clench my teeth until they ached.

I always told Alys and Jocelyn their bedtime stories.

“Mama? When I go to sleep later, I still want you to tell me my bedtime story,” whispered Jocelyn and I glanced down in surprise. She smiled at me and I found my hand pushing the hair back from her face, grief and love welling up within me in equal measure. The bell began ringing as a tear trickled down my face. I froze, remembering what that meant before pushing myself up.

“Laenor, stay here. Ser Steffon, you as well. Aemond is not to enter this ward unless he’s on a stretcher.” My white knight hesitated for a moment but fell back, taking up a vigil at the end of Jocelyn’s bed. It was Laena that followed me, limping slightly on her injured leg now, no doubt due to Geardys finally giving it a look over. The race to the courtyard felt even longer than the last one had. This time, I was one of the first there.

Alicent had beaten me, of course, but then I wasn’t sure if that should count because I wasn’t sure if she had actually left after I had taken Alys away. A few other knights who had been close by… I squinted into the sky, making out the vague shape of a dragon. Which one had he tamed? My question was answered the moment I had thought of it.

“Silverwing!” called the guard with far-eye and I forced myself not to laugh at the sense of victory that bought. Silverwing was still a dangerous dragon in her own right, I reminded myself, but oh, to lose Vermithor and be forced to settle with the dragon associated with the Good Queen… 

I forced myself to look solemn and concerned, it would not be well received if I made my amusement too obvious. I frowned as I remembered Alys’ earlier words, if she had told the truth Aemond had helped her leave the castle… he’d helped her put herself in danger...

Silverwing was navigated down fairly deftly by Aemond. He’d clearly taken those dragon manuals to heart. If he ever managed to find himself a teacher, he’d be a fearsome rider indeed, I had no doubt about that. I watched as he slipped off Silverwing’s back and stalked forward. The crowd itself was back to that confused muttering that rose like a hiss. They knew that something had gone wrong for Aemond today, they just weren’t sure what.

Viserys pulled his son into a tight hug. Aemond’s arms hung by his sides for a moment too long and then rose slowly, returning the embrace. 

“My son! My son, I am proud of you. Silverwing!” said Viserys, releasing Aemond, seemingly oblivious to the fury that was pouring off of his son. After a moment of silence, Aemond forced a smile.

“Thank you, Father,” he managed, through gritted teeth. Aegon swept forward then, seizing his brother about the shoulders. He made it look like a joyous motion but I detected the true purpose. He was putting himself between Aemond and the crowd. He must have said something to father too.

“Come! There will be a feast tonight and I wish to prepare for it,” he called to the crowd, after giving his oldest son a somewhat puzzled look. The crowd took quite some time to disperse. I considered leaving with them but decided against it when Aemond scanned the crowd and his eyes met mine. I saw the hate and anger spark in his eyes. Better to head this off now than have him do something foolish to Alys. I would kill him if he did anything to her, I hoped my eyes conveyed that as I returned his gaze.

I picked my way through those leaving, ignoring the curious glances I was getting from onlookers. Aemond watched, looking as if it were only Aegon’s hand on his shoulder holding him back.

“Congratulations, Prince Aemond. Silverwing is a fine mount,” said Laena, once we were within spitting distance.

“Don’t act like my friend, Witch!” snarled Aemond. “And you! See what happens when I get my hands on that little traitor!”

“Aemond,” said Aegon sharply. “You are angry, but this is not the way to behave.”

At his brother’s admonishment, Aemond’s eyes dropped to his boots. Yet his shoulders were still tense and his hands still clenched tight. His chest fell and rose as if he had spent the day running with the force of his anger. Aegon watched him with a stern expression before turning to me.

“This was ill-done, sister.” He looked too much like father when he was like that. I am so glad he chose not to copy the moustache in this timeline. “You know how long Aemond has sought Vermithor.”

“Do you honestly think that I sent my daughter, my ten year old daughter, up a damn mountain with no escort when she was ill to beat Aemond to a dragon?” I asked, making sure he understood I was disgusted with the accusation. “Perhaps you should ask Aemond who did send her up the Dragonmont?”

At the mention of his name, Aemond’s head jerked up. Aegon’s stern gaze flickered and became one of confusion as Aemond did not move to deny my accusation.

“Aems? What did you do?” asked Aegon, aghast. Aemond’s face screwed up in anger before he turned to his brother.

“She had detailed reports on all the dragons on the Dragonmont, did you know that brother? She kept them from us! From me! That little shit agreed to give me Vermithor’s if I helped her tame Silverwing!” Even being caught in the wrong by his precious older brother was doing little to cool Aemond’s anger. Aegon just sighed, bringing his hand up to his face.

“She is being punished for what she has done,” I told them. “But Aemond went behind my back, he put my daughter in danger-”

“He is sorry for that,” said Aegon in a tone that implied that if Aemond were not already, he would be when he was done with the chewing out he was about to get. “Aemond, go to my quarters and wait there!”

Aemond trudged off, foot bouncing off of the doors that led inside. We watched him go in silence.

“May I speak to you, sister?” asked Aegon, before his gaze flicked to Laena. “Alone?”

“Of course. Laena?” She hesitated and I raised an eyebrow. “Aliandra was hoping for some instruction tomorrow, I believe. You need to gather your strength for that.”

“Very well,” she sighed before bowing mockingly. “As my princess demands.”

The moment she was out of sight, my brother and I began a slow, meandering walk through Dragonstone. It gave me time to reflect on the man he was now. Nearly twenty, he was every maiden’s dream and a far-cry from the man of canon, with his silver-gold hair cut short and no facial hair to speak of. A tall, trim knight with a reputation for honour. He was more than good with the blade and lance as well, he had a lot of tourney wins to his name.

The perfect Prince. That was by design, I suspected.

I had long ago realised he wanted the Throne. He may love me as his sister but that did not mean he was willing to stand aside and let me take what he perceived as rightfully his. Yet he was not a threat to me yet, he was still building his legend.

“It was a cruel thing Alyssa did,” said Aegon. “And it is a cruel thing for you to take joy in it.”

“I will not pretend to be unhappy that my daughter tamed Vermithor. It keeps him from you, after all,” I told him and he straightened up considerably. He may be just shorter than Laenor but he towered over me. “But if you believe I take joy in it you are very wrong, Aegon.”

“You still believe there will be rebellion? No one will rise against you, sister.” He sounded frustrated.

“Yet you have visions of a crown dancing behind your eyes. I will not give it up and neither will you.” It was an old argument, as old as his return from the Westerlands. He had returned with the idea that Viserys should hold another Great Council, arguing that he should use it to gain the lords approval of his choice of Heir as Jaehaerys had once done for him.

Father had told him no, of course. There would be no Great Council whilst he lived, as he had decreed me his Heir and his word was the law. How dare Aegon imply that a monarch’s power was not absolute? My dear brother had run into the usual Green flaw. If a King could not overrule a previous ruler’s laws, or indeed overrule his lords, then how could he maintain the illusion he was the ultimate power in the realm?

“Must we have this argument once more? I merely propose a Great Council after father’s death,” he said. “To prevent any conflict between our lines.”

A Great Council where my votes would be split between me and my son. A Great Council where I would be at a disadvantage from the beginning.

“A Great Council you believe you will win, else you would not propose it,” I pointed out, trying to hide the frustration I felt. He sighed, clearly aggravated over the matter.

“I did not come here to argue about the Council. A wrong was done to Aemond today.” When I looked unconvinced, he added, “And to Helaena, too. She worked hard, helping Aemond study. You owe her an explanation, Rhaenyra.”

“I owe her nothing, for it was not me that engaged in a harebrained scheme to send a ten year old after a dragon!” I shouted, remembering Alys’ words. He stopped, staring at me before he sighed deeply.

“Helaena to? Well, at least speak to her. She is quite upset by the whole matter,” he told me. “And if you do, please try to be rational about it. I will not allow you to yell at her.”

Sometimes I wonder if canon Aegon would have been better, was my thought as he strode off, determined not to give me the final say.


	134. Tension - Chapter 111

Entering my old labs filled me with longing for simpler times, when it seemed I was only one step away from an easy answer to all of my problems.

They were much different these days. Their current occupant had certainly changed them to reflect her own research and style. One part of the wall had been filled with old and dusty tomes likely filched from the Alchemist’s Guild and perhaps, if I knew Laena, even further afield. The great table that had once dominated the centre of the room was gone, leaving a vast amount of floorspace, and as a result a great deal of the floor now bore signs of scorch marks and… miscellaneous stains. Which is not to say she’d rid herself of all my furniture. A great oaken bench was still there from the days I had wasted away my time in here. The cabinet above it too, although I had filled it with chemicals which I very much doubted was what Laena used it for.

“Oh, you’re here early?” said Laena, entering behind me and definitely not frightening the life from me. 

“I thought it prudent, you said you had something of great importance to discuss.” She picked her way past me carefully, carrying a wooden box in her arms. I winced as she let it collide with her workbench with a loud bang.

“You’ve even beaten Joffrey though. That counts as early,” she teased, fumbling at the box’s clasps. Trying not to look as if I were watching her every move in a manner that implied I was judging her, I made my way over to the window and peered out of it. Dawn had only just broken and the castle and town beneath it were beginning to stir to life.

“I have other things to attend to this morning,” I told her. 

“As do I. Alys for one.” The box was opened to reveal three dragon eggs resting in straw. I stared as she hummed in satisfaction before closing it once more and placing the box beneath the workbench. I wasn’t sure which bait she wanted me to take but I was sure both were bait given the raised eyebrow she was now directing my way.

“And Aliandra,” I replied. She smiled at that.

“A short session, I think. Travel took a lot out of me.” It was not travel that had taken so much from her but I wasn’t going to have that conversation now. It was different this time, she had come back better and mostly whole. This was not the Laena that I had found here all those years ago yet I could still see that miserable figure hunched in a corner; defiant as she always was but broken in a way even she could not deny. Still, perhaps she was not entirely wrong with her assessment, this journey had taken something from her. “Who has roused your anger today?”

“Why do you assume I’m angry?” I asked and she chuckled, turning to face me and leaning on the workbench with crossed arms.

“You’ve been glaring out that window for a while now,” she said, smiling. “I can only hope it is not me.”

“It is not. I am thankful, you know, that you have agreed to train Alys,” I told her. “I should have asked you before announcing it. Yet you are the logical choice. You fly the only dragon larger than hers.”

“Am I now?” she chuckled. “Alys would not agree.”

“It has become apparent to me that Alys needs your scepticism,” I sighed. “So thank you.” 

“You may not be so thankful when you start fielding her complaints. You believe I will find her a perfectly nice girl and I believe I shall finally introduce her to consequences for her actions. Time will tell who is right.” I frowned at the unusual bluntness of her manner but was prevented from pursuing the matter further by Joffrey and Laenor arriving together. Laenor was already kitted out for his daily training, I noted with amusement.

“Do you not believe in chairs, Laena?” complained Laenor. She didn’t answer him, instead standing aside so that Joffrey could lean against the worktable. 

“You will be fine, Laenor,” I said and he sighed but didn’t push the point. Then I directed my attention to Laena once more. “Well, what is this information?”

“Whilst travelling the Demon Road I began hearing rumours,” she began. “Merchants travelling west began speaking of… well, of dragons.”

“Dragons? Plural?” I asked and she nodded, face grim. “Daemon?”

“That was what I thought. Yet your sister’s warning rang in my ears-”

“You still have not told us the contents of the warning,” said Joffrey, cutting her off. “Only that it concerned what would happen should you travel to Gogossos.”

Laena took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

“And I will not tell you. It was meant for me alone,” she stated firmly. “I went as far east as I dared.”

“And what did you discover?” asked Laenor, his face grim. Joffrey took his hand, running his thumb over his palm and Laenor spared him a small smile in turn.

“Daemon was in Qarth and he has another dragon rider with him.” The statement was like a punch to the gut. Another dragon rider? How!? Whilst I could not set aside the possibility he had managed to lay his hands on a dragonseed, where would he get a second dragon? “I did not explore further. Only long enough to confirm the matter.”

“So he has reappeared with another dragon at his side. An alarming development to be sure but right now, Daemon is a world away-” Joffrey began but I cut him off.

“He will not stay a world away. He will come back here and he will be looking to make us suffer.” Laenor stood a little straighter at that while Laena merely squirmed, clearly uncomfortable.

“I will send spies to him,” vowed Joffrey. “I will ensure we know what he is doing and when he is doing it before he does.”

Silence reigned a little after that. We were all tense. Daemon’s return would be fun for none of us and we had children to think about now. I would die, I would kill, before I let him lay his hands on my children. Yet it was not only me in danger when my Uncle returned to Westeros.

“Warn Lady Rhea if you would. I fear he may strike at her,” I said and Joffrey nodded, a frown on his face. 

“We will be ready for him,” said Laenor. “We will be ready for him and he will pay for what he has done.”

The grim look on his face was enough to let me know he meant every word. A far cry from the man I had married but a change for the better, no one could deny that. Then as soon as the fierceness had come, it was gone again and he gave me a small smile. 

A knock on the door was enough to put an end to any more discussion about Daemon for now, although I knew it would be a topic we were likely to revisit many times in the future. When Laenor opened the door, one of the maids stepped in and bowed low.

“Your Grace, you asked to be notified when Princess Helaena left to attend morning practice?” she asked and I did not miss the way her eyes flickered curiously about Laena’s workspace. We’d both decided letting the servants in here was too dangerous - physically and socially. This was likely the first time she’d seen it since its transformation into Laena’s lair. No doubt it would be a blood soaked torture room in the stories spread by evening.

“Thank you, I shall endeavour to meet her there,” I told the maid and she bowed once more, scrambling off with wide eyes.

“You are angry at Helaena?” asked Laena, sounding confused. “What has Helaena done?”

She allowed my daughter to put herself in incredible danger, was the simple answer. I had thrown the accusation at Aegon yesterday as a way of going on the offensive, forcing him to defend Helaena and Aemond to me, but the more I actually thought on the matter the angrier it made me.

"It is what she didn’t do that has made me angry,” I replied, wondering how on earth I could explain it to her.

Helaena and Aemond had gone behind my back and helped my ten year old daughter run off up a mountain and confront a dragon. They both knew, beyond all doubt, that had I known of their plan I would have put a stop to it in an instant. Yet they had both done so regardless.

Perhaps it was easier to swallow that behaviour from Aemond. He was still, in many ways, the angry young boy that had been sent to Riverrun, even if he had learnt the Tully words and the lessons they imparted well. We were not close, the rift that had opened up between us when he had been a child had never truly healed, yet he acknowledged me as family and I knew he was, or had been before the business with Alys, more fond of his nieces and nephews than he liked to claim. I had been told of three occasions in which he’d challenged some luckless idiot to a duel for spreading unfortunate rumours about my children. 

But Helaena… Helaena should have known better. Helaena should have _been_ better. The very fact that Alys had blindsided her by taking Vermithor meant she had not been operating on some kind of vision. Even if she had, that was still hovering on the barely acceptable side of the scale. She had been the first of my siblings to hold Alys, she had been one of the first people Alys had ever smiled at… to think that she might have gotten her killed…

Yes, I had made myself very angry thinking about this.

“Ah,” said Laena. “Alys.”

I paused by the door at the tone and gave her a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes in response.

“Before you leave it was my hope to speak to you about… about certain matters.” Puzzled, I stepped back into the room.

“Is it about Alys? If it is, I will stay,” said Laenor, his eyes flickering back and forth between us. Laena looked as if she wanted to squirm.

“I don’t think it is,” I replied when she didn’t answer straight away. “Go train.”

“Could you-” Laenor paused at his sister's voice. “Could you tell Aliandra I may be a little late?”

“Of course,” he said, his gaze finally softening from suspicion a little. She was silent for some time after we were left alone.

“Am I forgiven?” she asked, voice small. The question took me by surprise and she blushed, eyes finding her shoes. “You were quite clear on what would happen if I were late this time.”

“Idiot,” I said, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. “Have you truly been worrying over that?”

She half-shrugged, scuffing her shoes over a particularly odd looking purple stain before looking up again. I was startled to find tears in her eyes.

“I made a mess of things,” she said, finally. “And you forgave more than I thought you ever would. I do not want to test that forgiveness again.”

“Idiot,” I said again, moving forward to embrace her. She sighed as she laid her cheek on my head and if she was shaking, I wasn’t about to point it out. “I love you. I forgave you the moment you got back.”

She chuckled and I knew she was crying in earnest now. I pushed myself closer into her, hoping I wasn’t hurting her chest.

“If I am harsh, it’s because I fear for you,” I whispered. “It’s because I do not know what I would do without you.”

She drew back to look at me properly, a few tears running down her face.

“You do not know how much that means to me and how much… and how much I love you in turn,” she replied, raising a hand to my cheek. I smiled at her and leaned into it, savouring the warm touch. After a moment, she seemed to shake herself out of whatever thoughts she had been lost in.

“Go find your sister and take her to task! I shall clean up here and hope Aliandra hasn’t exploded with impatience.” I laughed and dropped a kiss to the palm of her hand.

“Of course,” I replied. “Do not be too long though, else Laenor will have her half convinced she should be using a sword again.”

I left her giggling helplessly.

The training yard was not busy this early. I spotted many miscellaneous knights, Ser Rogar instructing Addam with Laenor watching, Aegon duelling a knight in Westerling colours and, of course, the woman I had come here to see. Helaena was seventeen now, and as different from her canon counterpart as Aegon was from his. Tall for a woman and well-known for her skill with the bow, whether the target was a deer or more dangerous prey. Her silver-gold hair was styled in a braid similar to mine and despite my anger, it did cause me to smile slightly. She’d always be my little sister, even when she was pulling shit like this.

“You’re better today?” I asked, causing her to curse as one of her arrows missed its mark. She turned to me with wary eyes and my hands found my hips almost without conscious thought. “I do believe we are due a talk.”

She winced and it was enough to tell me that Aegon had likely warned her I was aware of her involvement. I remained silent as she placed her bow down slowly, as if she had just been invited to take a walk to the headsman’s block and was determined to delay it for as long as possible.

“I am sorry,” she said when we finally found a corner with some privacy. I was not unaware of Aegon’s eyes on us from across the yard, though. “It was reckless of me.”

“What possessed you to think it a good idea?” I asked with heat in my tone. She was staring at her boots and that annoyed me enough that I had to put effort into controlling my temper. “To go behind my back and send her up the Dragonmont alone at ten?”

“Alys is very persuasive… she begged me. I thought of Aemond and how it was not fair he had to wait…” Her shoulders slumped and she raised her head to look me in the eye. “I was wrong. I am sorry.”

“Sorry!?” I cried and Helaena flinched. “Sorry is when you accidentally break a vase! Sorry is for when you spill wine on a rug! Sorry is for when you borrow jewelry and forget to return it on time! Sorry is not for when you send my child up the side of a mountain!”

From the corner of my eye I saw Aegon move to stalk towards us only to have Laenor drop a hand on his shoulder.

“I thought-”

“Did you? Did you really think? She was sick!” I cried. She shifted from foot to foot. “No amount of persuasion should be enough to send Alys to tame a dragon! You should have come straight to me the moment she brought the matter up! She is ten, she has no sense! You could have killed her!”

“I knew nothing bad would happen!” I stared at the sudden anger. “I am not so foolish as to hurt her, on purpose or through recklessness! I love Alys, Rhaenyra, I merely thought I could bring Aemond closer to your children...”

The regret seemed genuine at least. Or maybe it was because their idiocy had lost Aemond the dragon he truly wanted. I did not know for certain, but at least she had not chosen to complain about that. I watched as she brought a hand up to her face to rub at her eyes. If I knew her, and I did, she was likely castigating herself for the matter worse than I could.

“Anything could have happened,” I said, lowering my voice. “As it happens, she is well if bemoaning her punishment, but if you ever, ever, pull something like this again…”

I left the threat hanging as she nodded so hard I feared she may pull a muscle.

“Did it change your visions or something? You didn’t leave your room yesterday?” I asked, trying to inject some gentleness into my tone. She blinked in surprise and then rubbed at her forehead with one hand, grimacing.

“No, not my visions,” she finally said. I understood why she had reacted so. She hated to even acknowledge them. Those months after she had warned Laena of whatever future she had seen had been some of the worst of my life. My sister in a near coma-like state - her very sanity at risk? I did not know what would have happened had the worst come to pass. If Helaena had sacrificed herself for Laena….

“What is it then? I can have Gerardys attend to you if you do not wish to speak to me,” I told her and she sighed before meeting my gaze.

“It’s not you. It really isn’t… it’s just a big thing.” Her hand curled at her stomach, protectively. I stared at her as the meaning of her words hit me.

“Oh,” I said. “You’re pregnant.”


	135. Tension - Chapter 112

Steam curled from the tea into the pleasantly warm air. I watched it disappear, dispersing the smell of fruit throughout the room, trying to marshal my thoughts into something resembling order. 

“You are not angry with me, are you?” asked Helaena. Her own tea was similarly untouched. I raised my head to stare at her before mustering a smile.

“Not about this!” I insisted and she relaxed a smidgen. The matter with Alys still rankled but I had said what I needed to say on that matter. Anything more would mean repeating myself. “I am merely worried for you. You will accept a midwife, will you not?”

“Aegon has been frantic, he wanted to bring the matter up with you himself,” she told me, a small smile fighting its way onto her face. It was still incredibly creepy to me that they were married. I had hoped that my increased political manoeuvring would force Alicent to seek strategic marriages for the two of them and not… incest. Yet she had sought the legitimacy it would offer over the power the marriages could bring and my siblings were betrothed.

It had not gotten off to an amazing start. Aegon had been hoping for a Lannister match, I think, and had made his dissatisfaction with his mother’s choice very clear when Daeron had been betrothed to Cerelle Lannister and not he to Jocasta Lannister. Certainly the sour look on Alicent’s face when he spent the entire betrothal feast by my side, badgering me for information about dragons, was something I would treasure for the rest of my days. Helaena had gone one further, in typical Helaena fashion. It had taken an official order from father to make her come home for the wedding, her way of making clear that she did not approve.

Helaena loved her mother but the two got along like water and oil. Leave them in the same room together without a go between, or worse, only Aegon, and the two would be at it like cats before an hour. Yet I never missed my own mother more fiercely than when I saw them reunited after Helaena’s frequent trips to the Vale, in which Alicent would cling to her and weep and even Helaena had teary eyes.

“I shall make an appointment for you,” I told her. Then a flicker of amusement went through me, despite my misgivings. “As long as you promise to let me be there when you tell Alicent you intend to employ one.”

Helaena pulled a face, scooping up her tea and taking a hesitant sip. No doubt she was thinking on the inevitable argument that would provoke. Alicent would see it as a betrayal, she’d been furious enough when father had thrust Alannys upon her for Viserra’s birth.

“Mother does not know yet,” she replied finally. “Aegon and I want a little more time without her being completely insufferable.”

I remembered well how everyone had sought to wrap me in cotton wool until I felt I could not even breathe without someone fretting over my health… and if I thought Father was bad, Helaena would be dealing with him and Alicent combined. I caught her eye, noting the look of someone who was staring down nine months of imprisonment at the hands of her frantic mother. True imprisonment would probably be kinder as she wouldn’t have to deal with Alicent hovering over one shoulder and Grand Maester Edmund hovering over the other, cataloguing her every move and breath.

“I will not be able to help you on that front, I am afraid,” I told her, sipping my own tea and savouring the fruity flavour. “Alicent would take my interference poorly. She will already see a midwife as an unacceptable overstep on my part.”

Helaena tried to smile but it turned into a grimace halfway through.

“Is it wrong to fear what her influence may do to the babe?” I raised an eyebrow at that and she sighed. “Aegon and I - she put so much pressure on us. Even now… if I am carrying a boy, she will do the same to him.”

“It is not wrong to fear such a thing,” I told her and she did smile at that. “You have my support, Helaena. I will be by your side the moment you need me. Even if what you need me for is distracting your mother.” 

That startled a laugh from her but there were tears in her eyes when she leaned across to embrace me. I held her tightly, fighting the misgivings her words had awoken in me regarding my own children. The slithering suspicion that they would come to see me in the way Helaena saw Alicent…

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You are the best sister I could have asked for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you could do better,” I told her, drawing back. “For example, when it comes to telling father, you are on your own. I have had quite enough sore ribs to last me a lifetime!”

That set her laughing and by the time I left she looked much more at ease. If only I could have that. The way she’d spoken of pressure, of how she feared her own sons would be caught in the same trap. Aemon… was I doing the same thing to him? When it came to him, all I could see were the potential rumours. He was eight! My son should be able to enjoy his hobbies, I shouldn’t have to force him to the mold of the perfect Prince.

Yet that was exactly what I was doing every time I forced him to attend training or accompany me through my day so that he could begin to understand what was in store for him when I took the Throne and he was my Heir in turn. He was a quiet boy and all he wanted to do was create; to draw or paint. He was good at it too, for an eight year old anyway.

I decided that whatever else I had on my schedule for today could wait and I began my hunt for him. I had always known I would not be the best parent, I had known that since I had promised away three of my four children before they could even walk. Yet I hadn’t thought myself too terrible, at least until I had somehow missed Alys charging up the side of a mountain and Jocelyn’s resentment towards me.

What was I potentially missing with Aemon?

He was drawing when I found him, perched on a balcony overlooking the dragons, a chunk of charcoal moving across the paper. His tongue was poking out of his mouth, as it so often did when he was completely focused. 

Gods, he looked so much like Laenor. There was no question at all as to who had fathered him. I watched for a while as he began finishing up, admiring the skill he had even at his young age. Had I tried such a thing, it would have been a smudged mess.

“Tessarion,” I said, when he was finally done and was rewarded with his fright. He dropped his charcoal and peered around before a smile lit up his face. 

“Mama!” he cried before throwing himself at me. I caught him and lifted him up high, whirling him around as Laenor was fond of doing. “You got it right!”

“It’s the horns that give it away,” I told him, and his grin grew even wider. “It’s very good. You must do one of Syrax for me.”

“I will Mama,” he promised, then his smile dimmed and he looked at me almost warily. “Are you here to tell me off?” 

“And why would I do that?” I asked carefully. He sighed and adopted his usual solemn expression. It had never torn at me this way before. Damn it Helaena, couldn’t you have chosen your words more carefully?

“Because I didn’t go to training like I promised I would,” he admitted. “I skipped it to go draw Tessarion.”

I sat down on a nearby bench and drew him onto my lap, a lump in my throat at his expression. It had been like watching a light bulb switch off. Was that happy little boy my son and the solemn one I knew so well what he felt he had to be around me?

“Why did you skip your lesson?” I asked, searching for any hint of the answer in his features. He squirmed under my scrutiny.

“Daeron is asleep and he won’t wake up for ages. So I can draw Tessarion now without him yelling at me. If I went to practice I wouldn’t finish it and then he would be able to catch me.” I smiled at the explanation. My son was delightfully straightforward. I doubt it had even occurred to him to lie and claim he wasn’t feeling well or some other excuse. I lifted up the drawing again, staring at it.

“It’s a very good picture of Tessarion,” I told him. “But why would Daeron yell at you?”

“Daeron is mean!” he cried, louder than he intended if his wince was any indication. “He shouted at Jocelyn and he wouldn’t let me teach Vis a dance once!”

I had known Daeron’s temperament, of course. Snivelling little bully. I’d caught him teasing Jocelyn over a few weeks ago and given him a tongue lashing for it only for him to tell Alicent I’d yelled at him for playing with his nieces. It had taken Ser Steffon relating the tale to my father for the truth to come out and even then Alicent had demanded I leave any punishment to her when it came to her children. Which would be tantamount to no punishment at all.

I deeply, deeply regretted not taking the chance to have him fostered out when father had given me the decision.

“Enough about Daeron, Aemon,” I said and he nodded. “How was the market yesterday?”

“Oh! It was very fun, although everyone was very upset about Alys. Can we go again?” I refused to let his comment about Alys dim my smile.

“We might but I do not see why we can not go to the bigger markets in King’s Landing.” He went very still as the possibilities made themselves known.

“Maybe we could explore lots of King’s Landing?” he asked. “I want to see the Great Sept. Lady Fal says there are some very good paintings and tapestries there and Aemma wants to go and see Septon Patrek anyway.”

I blinked at the sudden word vomit before filing away the interesting news that Aemma was agitating to go for later. My youngest was even quieter than her brother and much, much more well-behaved than her sisters, preferring to spend her days quietly in the company of Septa Leyla. Perhaps a trip there would be a suitable reward for the both of them? I doubted it would interest the twins somehow so it could be a nice thing for my youngest children and I to do together.

“We could,” I said slowly and he realised where I was going straight away.

“But only if I work hard at training?” he asked, not as upset as I thought he would be.

“I would accept attending all your lessons for a month,” I told him and he rolled his eyes.

“Why go if I don’t work hard there?” he asked, as if the idea of merely turning up was not one he’d even entertained before. I tried to cover my amusement at that up with my hand but he spotted it anyway and pouted.

“Oh my dear boy,” I chuckled. “You are a treasure. Now, how would you like to spend the day with your dear mother?”

“Really?” he asked, his eyes flickering to his drawing.

“Oh? What is this? My own son does not wish to spend time with me?” I cried, throwing myself to my feet and sending him scrambling away with laughter. 

“Mama! I do want to spend time with you!” he said, wrapping his arms around my midsection. “But I thought you had lots to do?”

“Lots to do, certainly, but nothing is more important to me than you all,” I told him and he beamed up at me. “Besides, spending the day with you is much more fun than spending the day with my lords.”

“Well,” he said. “If it’s more fun with me then I wouldn’t mind, but if people will get angry at you, you shouldn’t make them wait.”

“No one will be angry,” I told him, kneeling down to his level. “And if they are, for whatever reason, they will have me to deal with.”

“Alright,” he mock sighed, adopting his solemn expression once more. “I suppose I could spend the day with Mama.”

I swear he gets this side of him from Laenor.


	136. Tension - Chapter 113

I was somehow not surprised when Rhaenys invaded Laenor and I’s room on the _Princess Rhaenyra_. Anyone else might have been wary about barging in to the private quarters of the Heir to the Throne and her husband but Rhaenys wasn’t just anyone. 

“Mother!” said Laenor, half rising out of his chair and dropping the book he’d borrowed from his father’s library. He was beaten to the hug by Aemma all but flying from her position on the carpet and entangling herself in her grandmother’s legs.

“Thought I’d come straight to the source. Why did Viserys cut our little trip short?” asked Rhaenys, crouching down to her youngest grandchild and gathering her on her knee. It was an odd feeling to be looking down at Rhaenys Targaryen, given our height disparity. She’d boarded with us, after father had decided it was time for us all to leave, instead of boarding the _Sea Snake_ with Corlys as I’d expected her too. I should have known it was because she wanted information and not because Corlys was returning via Driftmark as opposed to our more direct trip. 

“Rioting in Dorne,” I told her, although I could tell that answer had not satisfied her. I groaned and sat up on the bed, putting aside my book. Aemma pulled a face at me, evidently recognising the adults would engage in boring talk and her grandmother was unlikely to play dolls with her just yet. Behind Rhaenys, Laenor swivelled around in his chair. “It’s the second time this month.”

“And the boy he put in charge can’t deal with it?” she scoffed.

“Gwayne is hardly a boy, mother, and he has dealt with it. No deaths and only a few injuries, all ringleaders brought to justice,” said Laenor. I’d filled him in on the news the moment father had told me, if only so he could prepare the Princess Rhaenyra for the announcement and ensure his men were all present, correct and at least mostly sober.

“Then what has your father so spooked?” asked Rhaenys.

“The fact that it is the second time this month, as like as not. Yet not enough for him to agree to let me take Aliandra home.” The Lady of Driftmark’s lips pursed at that news. She was not my ward’s greatest fan and she did not approve of father’s decision regarding her marriage. 

“Unsurprising. You know what the Dornish are like. What’s to stop her poisoning you? Poisoning any you bring with you?” she asked in tones just the wrong side of frosty. Over her shoulder, Laenor rolled his eyes theatrically. Rhaenys had never truly forgiven the Dornish for the ambush. I don’t even think it was the wounds that stung but the fact she had been pulled back from the front lines and had missed all the action.

And that, subsequently, had led to the first crack in Laena’s mental health. Although I wasn’t sure how right she was in blaming the Tolands for being murdered as they surrendered. It was Ser Dickon Bulwer’s fault more than anything and… well, he was far beyond anyone’s reach now.

“The Dornish are treacherous, or so people say. Aliandra is a good girl and she has never shown any of this supposed nature to me,” I said, thinking of the girl who tried so hard to be older than she was. Well, she’d had to grow up fast in such a hostile court where even grown men would join in on the bullying. Not even my protection could see her safe from sneers and the stories spread by the other Dornish hostages.

“There is time for her to grow into it yet,” Rhaenys grumped.

“Do you have so little regard for my ability to raise children?” I asked but it seemed Aemma had finally cottoned on to what we were talking about because she squirmed off of her grandmother’s lap and stood to look her in the eyes.

“Grandmama! You mustn’t be angry with Ali, she’s nice!” my daughter told her, very seriously. I struggled to contain my giggles at the surprised look on Rhaenys’ face and Laenor was forced to hide his grin behind his hand.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” she finally said after a moment of silence had passed. “I am not angry with Aliandra, Aemma. She seems like a nice child.”

“She is nice! She caught a cat for me in the market! And she lets me borrow the nice scarves her mama brings her!” I caught Laenor’s eye with a meaningful look and he rose from his seat with a chuckle.

“Come along, little one, let’s leave your mother and grandmother to talk.” She pouted as she was lifted up, squirming in his arms until she could see me once more.

“You will tell grandmama that Ali is nice, won’t you?” she asked me plaintively.

“Of course! Now, go and find Auntie Laena for me and keep her company,” I told her, standing up to help Rhaenys to her feet. There was an audible crunch as she stretched and I grimaced in sympathy.

“Don’t get old, Rhaenyra,” she told me with a chuckle. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

She took Laenor’s recently vacated seat and sighed.

“How is Laena?” she asked a moment later, as if she were debating on even asking. Then added, sadly. “She does not come to me with her problems anymore.”

“Better,” I told her. “She picked up a few knocks on her travels but she is better.”

Rhaenys nodded and we were both silent for a while as Laenor’s ship creaked and groaned around us and the waves battered the sides.

“How serious is the Dorne matter?” she asked suddenly.

“Bad enough. Nothing widespread but… more and more people call for Prince Garin’s return these days. The Stony Dornish are almost certainly backing him, the Vulture King grows bolder by the day and neutral Lords are beginning to waver,” I explained. “Ghost Hill has become a rallying point for them, Lord Allard Toland a figurehead… this Myles Sand does not help matters either.”

“The bastard?” grunted Rhaenys and I smiled, surprised she’d even heard of the name. A rabble rouser that had been given control of Ghost Hill as regent for his young sister until she gained her majority and returned home. Then, he would become our hostage in turn as Myles Toland, legitimised bastard.

“He has a year left as his sister’s regent. Lord Dayne believes he may be… reluctant to give the post up to his sister and become a hostage. If he does refuse Lord Dayne’s commands, a second army turning up at Ghost Hill would not look good for our side.” Rhaenys snorted.

“Sounds like Garin is the issue. Can my beloved goodson not aid you in this matter?” Rhaenys asked. “A dagger may solve what swords can not.”

“Contingent on the dagger reaching him. He has proved… elusive so far,” I admitted and she leaned forward, rubbing her hands over her face.

“I don’t like this,” she said finally. “Seems everywhere has something going to shit these days and it stinks of her doing.”

“Our Good Queen? Surely not,” I mocked and she smiled, although there was no joy there. “Perhaps I should give thought to my procession once more.”

“You should have been and gone already. Your father should have had one long before our grandfather died.” I picked up the usual judgement in her tone when she’d spotted what she saw as a failing in us. Although these days she was much less vocal about it.

“He feared you might come and steal back your Crown if he abandoned the capital… as for me, you know I planned one. Then Dorne and Aemon and-”

“Never enough time,” said Rhaenys, ignoring my jab about father. “Perhaps you should make time.”

“I have the children to think of, Aegon constantly looming over my shoulder and I dread to think of what Alicent would do with the capital as her uncontested playground.” Not to mention the duties I had as my father’s Heir and Lady of Dragonstone-

“Excuses. Pretty ones but excuses all the same.” She pushed herself forward and met my eyes. “You have gotten too comfortable this past decade. You’re letting Aegon do as he wishes, you are letting Alicent plot against you in the shadows… the Rhaenyra back then would have had a plan in place to deal with Larys Strong by now, she would be dealing with Aegon and Aemond-”

“The Rhaenyra back then walked straight into Otto’s trap and got us mired in a war with Dorne!” I shouted, standing up, suddenly full of restless energy. “If I make another mistake like that… what do I risk then? Laena? Laenor? Joffrey? My children?”

“Are you your father’s daughter as I once feared?” Rhaenys hissed, standing and towering over me. “You seem happy to merely hold your position! To merely respond to the plots of others! Exactly as your father would do in your shoes!”

Anger slithered through my veins at the accusation igniting into a burning fury that robbed me of my ability to even scream at her for such an insult.

“I am far from passive, Rhaenys, far from it. I have brought my loyal lords to Court, I have shored up my support, I have two lots of professional soldiers ready to move, the Small Council is loyal to me, the Gold Cloaks are loyal to me, the Kingsguard are loyal to me! What more do you want!?” I managed to choke out, trembling with the sheer rage that accusation brought. 

I tried to tell myself it was because she did not know about canon Rhaenyra. That version had done nothing, had hidden on Dragonstone for most of her life, and had made bad decision after bad decision. Even then she had come so close to victory over her half-brother.

I was not her, I had done more than she had ever done!

If the Dance kicked off then King’s Landing would fall behind me. There would be no riots, no stolen treasury and no loyal lords killed for their support. Soon after, the Stormlands and the Vale would declare for me, the North would not interfere and Dorne was more likely than not to declare for me as well. The Riverlands would bow to pressure from the Vale as long as the Lannisters were kept busy by my Reyne allies and their little coalition. That left the core Green lands, and many in the Reach were standing ready to give the Hightowers what they so richly deserved… 

Aegon could call for his Great Council all he wished, he would not get it. There was no true dispute, not after my Father had been so vocal in his choice of Heir, and Helaena would ensure he fell in line soon enough.

“I’ll not deny you’ve done much in the past,” said Rhaenys, interrupting my thoughts on the matter. “But it bothers me you could be doing more. You have shown the ability to do more. What was the College if not the start of a fight against the Maesters and their Hightower overlords? What was this whole business with your Septon if not working to break Oldtown’s stranglehold on the Faith?”

“Such things do not happen over days. It is as Laenor so often says, I am seeking a Throne, not the total reformation of Westeros,” I snapped.

“Bah!” I sensed she was well aware she’d roused my anger, and it only further annoyed me she seemed not to care. “Your daughters have more fire than you these days.”

“I suppose Laenor told you what happened?” I asked through gritted teeth. Rhaenys chuckled before stretching, filling the cabin with yet another crack.

“Joffrey, actually. Boy seemed to think I should persuade you to punish Alys more harshly,” she explained. “I admit she can be trouble at times but she is showing the backbone you appear to have lost. Or are you denying you did the same thing when you were even younger than her?”

I stared at her, at the way she was meeting my eyes so defiantly, and had a small revelation. This wasn’t a new frustration. She’d been feeling this way for a long, long time and now it was all coming out.

“How long have you been waiting to have this conversation?” I asked and she shook her head again.

“A few years… since Aemma was born.” Ah. Six years then.

“I am not nineteen anymore, Rhaenys. I have made my mistakes and I have learnt the lessons they imparted well.” Corlys, Otto, Larys - all had been harsh teachers.

“That’s horse crap and you know it!” I winced at the sheer frustration in her voice. “Corlys once complained you were doing too much, too fast, that you played the game too aggressively. Now he complains you barely play it at all. What new lords have come to your side this past year? What new resources have you brought your cause? Let me save you your breath, the answer is none. And the year before you secured three, one of which I would argue is of questionable value at best and all little more than landed knights.”

“And just what would you have me do? Slaughter my brothers? Murder my father’s wife? You and I both know how that would end!”

“I would have you send your men out to root out the Vulture King, I would have you court the Tyrells once again, I would have you try for another son… I would have you play the game once more instead of miring yourself in contentment! You are a dragon!” she bellowed, leaning forward with a fierce expression.

I might have argued but the sound of a bell ringing above deck and one of Laenor’s men calling out that King’s Landing was in sight had us both peering around. 

“Think on what I have said, Rhaenyra. Think good and hard because I am not the only one who feels you do too little.”


	137. Tension - Chapter 114

The blade met the solid pine of the spear shaft as Laena managed a hasty block. She soon put distance between her and her opponent though, dancing back as he too drew back as if to decide how best to push forward and break Laena’s defence.

“Go Papa!” shouted Jocelyn from the small crowd of children that had abandoned their own practice to watch. Hell, many of the actual knights had abandoned their practice so I wasn’t inclined to blame them.

“Show her who is best!” shouted Alys. If it was usual, before she broke her arm at least, to find Jocelyn in the training yard practising with a blade under her father’s supervision, then it was extremely unusual for Alys to be here. Yet Laena had decreed there would be a lesson after she had finished up with Aliandra, and my daughter may sulk and rage, but she had not tested Laena’s punishments yet.

Other members of the crowd included Aliandra, Rolph, Lucerys and Aemon. It might usually include Alysanne too, but she had remained in bed this morning as Helaena, her usual teacher in all things archery, was not feeling up to a lesson.

She would not be able to hide her condition for much longer.

“Go Mama!” cheered Lucerys, much louder than my two daughters, earning himself a shove from my firstborn. I gave her a warning look before it descended into a fight and she returned it with a cheeky grin before her attention went back to Laena and Laenor’s match as they clashed once more. She had been more cheerful since our return and her lessons with me, even just a month’s worth of reading together, had done her a world of good confidence-wise.

I can’t say the past month had done much for me though. Whenever I had any free time, whenever I entered the Throne Room and gazed up at the twisted monstrosity of metal we call a throne… even whenever I slipped the Good Queen’s crown onto my head, all I could recall were Rhaenys’ words.

_“Are you your father’s daughter as I once feared? You seem happy to merely hold your position! To merely respond to the plots of others! Exactly as your father would do in your shoes!”_

I tapped out an annoyed beat on the bench, hearing them echoing again in my head. I had long been frustrated that father was too keen to rest on his laurels, were people experiencing that same frustration with me? Laenor had not seemed to think so when I had questioned him in the early morning hours. Perhaps it should be considered a sign that I was not able to bring myself to ask Joffrey his opinion?

A sudden restlessness seized me and I might have stood up and left had Laenor not pushed past Laena’s guard and knocked her into the dirt, placing the tip of his blade against her chest. She yielded with grace and my children burst into wild cheering and swarmed over to their father to congratulate him. Aliandra and Lucerys were quick to help Laena to her feet, a quick glance telling me she wasn’t in too much pain. Rolph hovered nearby, clearly wondering if he should congratulate his mentor too.

I met Laenor’s eyes as he pulled his helmet off and stood, making my way down towards him and the veritable mob of children he’d attracted. They parted before me and I dropped a kiss to his cheek, prompting Jocelyn to make an exaggerated gagging sound, to the amusement of her peers. Her arm was still bound and it would not be fully healed for a few more weeks yet. I could tell she was frustrated with the matter. Still, that did not preclude a little revenge.

“You will have a husband of your own one day,” I told her, nodding towards Rolph. His face promptly went the same colour as his hair and Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Both of the twins had discovered their betrothals during this year’s nameday celebrations. As had Rolph, as a matter of fact, something that surprised me. Still, there had been no meltdowns or tantrums so far, although there had been some teasing of the twins on the matter.

“At least you get Rolph,” said Alys, tartly. “I get to marry Osgood.”

“What is wrong with Osgood?” asked Aemon, sounding perplexed. After Alys and Jocelyn’s betrothals had been announced, he had come to me and asked if he had a similar arrangement waiting to be announced on his tenth nameday too. I had told him that he was to marry one of Lord Borros’ daughters. The Three Storms, in this timeline, as Lady Elenda had given birth to a boy, named Orys, instead of Floris.

“He’s boring. And only a kid, like Aemma!” protested Alys as Laena joined us.

“He will grow up,” said Laena. “And it is your duty to marry him.”

I wasn’t going to analyse the tone she was using there. Although it earned her a questioning look from Laenor at least.

“An excellent fight, my children.” We turned as one to find Corlys strolling up to us, seemingly without a care in the world. He clapped his son on the arm as the attention of every child narrowed in on him. They loved Corlys and his stories, the ones that grew ever more exciting and dangerous as he told them. “Perhaps I may steal away my son and gooddaughter for a moment?”

“Could it wait?” I asked, keeping my tone polite. “I promised Jocelyn a lesson.”

“It’s alright, Mama! I can practice with Aemon while you talk with Grandpapa!” I glanced down at her earnest face. I did not think she was lying.

“Do not pick a blade up yourself!” I told her sternly before turning to Corlys. “A few moments then but no more, I did make a promise after all.”

Corlys smiled warmly and gestured towards an empty part of the yard where we would be afforded a little privacy at least. His face soon became serious and I bit back the urge to groan.

“I thought it best to speak to you myself,” he said quietly. “Rhaenys informs me you and she had words on the trip back from Dragonstone.”

“We did,” I said, hearing those words once more. “She implied you agreed with her.”

He watched me with narrowed eyes for a moment and then nodded.

“We have not always been so close, Rhaenyra, and I will not deny that we had a difficult start to our alliance. Yet, I will not play the sycophant even if you are given to distrusting me.” I felt Laenor tense next to me and I resisted the urge to reach for him. “You once played the game aggressively, so aggressively I was worried it would bring us to ruin. Yet it did not, even if it did bring many unnecessary complications.”

I bristled without meaning to at the words ‘unnecessary complications’ and what they implied. He had profited well from my ‘unnecessary complications’ and he knew it. The Glassworks at Driftmark had repaid the Velaryon investment many times over and that was just one of my projects.

“Father-” began Laenor but Corlys cut him off.

“You are playing the slow game now, reacting rather than making your own moves, but it is a valid strategy, even if I disapprove.” He leaned back to look his son in the eye. “It’s Driftmark I worry about the most, Laenor.”

“What is wrong with it?” asked Laenor, perplexed.

“Nothing, our home thrives,” he said. “Yet what will happen when I die, Laenor?”

“I will inherit and serve as Lord of the Tides,” said Laenor, confusion giving way to caution. I remained silent. Driftmark was not my wheelhouse. 

“And who will inherit after you?” Corlys asked. “Aemon will be King in time and Jocelyn the Lady of Castamere.”

“They could still inherit,” he protested. “Or one of Jocelyn’s children with Rolph.”

Corlys turned his head to me then, jaw set in determination.

“Their time would forever be divided between Driftmark and another. Driftmark has thrived because I was there to guide it-”

“Aemma then!” said Laenor, frustrated. “Aemma is not betrothed. If it bothers you so much I shall seek a betrothal from one of our cousins.”

“Raising a daughter over her younger brothers is one thing, but a daughter over her elder sisters?”

“Our argument on inheritance does not preclude doing so,” I told him. “You are as Valyrian as we are. Why should you not name your own heirs as well?”

“It would be better if you had another son,” he said firmly. 

“Or if we legitimised Addam and Alyn?” Laenor snorted at his own question. He adored his brothers in his own way but he did not want them closer to Driftmark than they already were as his ‘sons’.

“That would be a last resort… given the complications in doing so.” I was surprised to find myself pitying him when the brief look of frustration flashed over his face. His children, whom he loved, did not see him as their father. They played along, but they’d made it clear with their frequent slips when with Laenor that, in their minds, he was their father and Corlys their grandfather.

It seemed less funny now than it did before.

Laenor ran his hand through his hair looking beyond agitated. The way he often did when he had genuinely not seen a problem coming and was unprepared to deal with it. Corlys had adopted a solemn look, his violet eyes on his son rather than me.

“At least discuss the matter,” he said quietly. “I do not wish to take matters into my own hands.”

“We shall, Lord Corlys, and you will be the first I come to with our answer,” I said coolly as Laenor glared at his father mutely. Corlys nodded and shot a final, pained look at his son before departing.

“Why is he like this?” Laenor asked once he was out of sight. “Why does he always say things like that when he knows what it sounds like?”

“He is proud. For all that he wants his blood on the Throne, he wants Driftmark secured first and foremost.” I didn’t need to say it, Laenor knew his father well. I reached out and took his hand. “It is not just your father that worries on the matter. We will speak about it with Laena and Joffrey later.”

“Later is best, lest our little dragons get out of hand,” he chuckled, although I could tell it was forced. I turned in time to see Jocelyn awkwardly demonstrate a few swings to Aemon with only one arm. She caught my gaze and dropped the sword quickly, looking guilty.

“I suppose it was too much to ask her to restrain herself,” I sighed, making Laenor genuinely chuckle this time.

“She is your daughter,” he said.

“Sometimes I wonder if I somehow gave birth to your mother,” I said, and he doubled over in laughter, which definitely got the children’s attention. I left him giggling helplessly and took Jocelyn’s uninjured hand. “Now, are you ready?”

“Yes, Mama!” she chirped before looking past me curiously. “What is papa laughing at?”

“Nothing, he is being a fool.”

“As usual then,” said Laena, falling into step next to us, Alys trailing after her with a sullen look. “Are you flying today?”

“On Syrax,” I said, ignoring Jocelyn’s sigh of frustration at that information. “What have you got planned?”

“Oh, Alyssa and I will be going over riding equipment and how to ensure it is in good order-”

“Do I get to ride Vermithor? Or even Vhagar?” I smiled at Alys’s eagerness. 

“No.” It was only Laena’s warning look that prevented me from saying something. Although I did deliver Jocelyn her second Look of the day when she stuck her tongue out at her sister, who was staring at me with tears in her eyes. “Safety is a huge part of dragon riding. What will you do if you fail to correctly look after the saddle and miss damage to it?”

“Fall off!” said Jocelyn in a sing-song voice.

“Oh? Do you know this already?” I asked and she nodded eagerly. 

“Aunt Laena already taught me and Luke! And… uh, Aunt Helaena as well.” Laena frowned and I struggled not to smile at the guilty way Jocelyn had thrown my sister’s name in there. “Alyssa didn’t come to either lesson.”

“Then Alyssa can have her lesson now and Jocelyn can enjoy a ride on Syrax,” Laena finally said. Alys was still muttering about the matter, and throwing dirty looks at her aunt when we reached the dragons half an hour later.


	138. Tension - Chapter 115

Syrax was still one of the greatest joys in my life. Nothing compared to the endless freedom of the skies, the feeling of her moving beneath me and the wind whipping by me as we soared. I could just hear Jocelyn’s laughter and exclamations of delight as we swooped and circled, dropping low to the sea and flying so high that we flew above the clouds themselves. She screeched when I coaxed Syrax into a barrel roll, clutching at me half in fear and half in excitement. Eventually, I took us low over the Bay and tapped her to get her attention.

“Watch how I use the whip,” I told her. “You will need to use yours a lot when you start riding, but you will get better and then you will need to use it less.”

I demonstrated a few turns, cracking the length of leather this way and that. Syrax turned obediently, the way I’d trained her to all those years ago. It was amusing to see my daughter so intent on the way my wrist moved and just where the whip cracked in relation to Syrax’s head and what reaction it produced in my mount. 

“What if I accidentally hit Morrigan?” she asked, suddenly, her violet eyes wide. I responded by hitting Syrax as hard as I could on her armoured shoulder. Jocelyn squealed in fear but I doubted my dragon even noticed it. It was the sound they reacted to, of course, despite what non-riders may claim.

“These scales can take a hit from a ballista,” I told my daughter, after she had opened her eyes once more. “My Syrax can stand up to a strike from a whip.”

Jocelyn moved her hand out, leaning forward until I feared I would have to reach out and pull her back, and ran her fingers over the scales with a sigh of awe. I let my own, of relief, when she finally settled back. She was chained to me, and I knew that logically, but still…

“But,” I said. “That is not to say you can’t hurt them.”

“But if they can take a bolt, how could you?” she asked curiously.

“Remember how Syrax likes to have her head rubbed? And the skin is very soft?” I smiled as she wriggled against me in excitement, catching the answer before I was able to tell her.

“No scales! What about the wings though? And what would happen if you did hurt her with the whip?” she asked.

“The wings are hardened, to a degree. They wouldn’t take a bolt but they shrug off arrows. Well, my Syrax would, you will need to be careful with Morrigan… her wings will still be quite delicate”, despite the sheer size of her. She was bigger than Skywalker and bigger than Morghul too, although Frost still beat her in size. Tessarion too, strangely enough. The Blue Queen was a monster of a dragon and I had been alarmed to realise that if she kept growing as she did, she would soon challenge Frost in size. And from there… Syrax was the next biggest dragon up from him.

It infuriated Laena to no end, of course. Tessarion was a pit dragon, yet her growth was faster than even non-pit dragons. Hell, it infuriated me. Yet it was Laena that pointed out the issue… it was magic, quite simply, and magic was never predictable. The knowledge had yet to stop her grinding her teeth whenever she encountered the Blue Queen.

“And what would happen if I did hurt her?” she asked. I hummed with thought.

“I have never hurt Syrax so but I would imagine she’d throw me off if I were incautious enough to,” I told her. She pressed close to me and I wrapped my arm around her, smiling when she brought her unbroken hand up to grip at my forearm.

“Tomorrow we will begin training Morrigan to respond to the sound of the whip,” I told her. It would not be too hard, dragons only got hard to truly teach when they’d breached one hundred, as Laena had discovered with her bad tempered old lady. “Now, would you like another ride? For educational purposes, of course.”

When we finally landed, I had been in the air far longer than I had initially planned. Jocelyn was wide-eyed and panting with exhilaration. I kept up the thin pretence of a lesson though, by having her help me remove Syrax’s gear and examine it, very solemnly, for signs of wear or damage. Then we stored it safely and turned our attention to the other occupants of the shed.

Alys was not enjoying her lesson. The new gear, made especially for Vermithor, was laid out in front of her and Laena loomed over her, arms crossed with a frown. My daughter glanced up and gave me a mournful look.

“Mama, please,” she said. “I know all of this! She is making me do it again when I get it wrong but I get it wrong because I’m tired.”

I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it again when Laena raised an eyebrow, as if challenging me to say something. I had agreed I would cede all power to her… and Jocelyn was staring at me too.

“You have the option to leave,” said Laena. “I did tell you that.”

“But then you’ll punish me!” protested my daughter. Laena merely hummed in agreement. “That’s not fair!”

“It is. Now start again.” Laena was relentless, staring down my daughter, who turned back to her gear with an angry sigh. “Oh, one of Joff’s men is waiting for you. Something about an urgent raven.”

Now that was alarming. I didn’t bother saying goodbye as I strode towards the door, Jocelyn trotting after me obediently. As promised, I found one of Joffrey’s runners taking refuge from the summer sun under the eaves of the shed. When he saw me he scrambled to his feet and bowed low.

“Y’grace,” he said, his accent betraying his Fleabottom heritage. “Ser Joffrey sent me wi’ news.”

“I thank you for making the trip, what news does my goodbrother send me?” The man patted down his pockets and removed a note, written in a hand that I recognised immediately. Joffrey’s neat letters. I took it and passed him a moon for his troubles. He bowed low again, and then bowed to Jocelyn for good measure, before trudging back to his horse and setting off back towards the city.

“Jocelyn, go and keep Syrax company,” I told my daughter. She hesitated, her eyes fixed on the note before giving in. I watched her jog over to where Syrax was bathing in the shallows before breaking the seal. I made one read through before smothering the urge to scream in annoyance. 

Bennard fucking Stark.

I had known, of course, that he had not given up on his dreams of the North. Just like I had known his success in Dorne had given him bargaining power with the Northern Lords who resented being held back as others went to win glory. When Rickon Stark had died unexpectedly as winter finally retreated from even the North he had been at the forefront of installing Lord Beron Karstark as Regent for his young nephew.

Normally, I would not have cared. If Bennard prevailed, he would owe me. If Cregan prevailed, I had not invested anything in Bennard to lose and while he was a known Black, he was not so close to my cause that Cregan might think I had a hand in his attempt. Perhaps Bennard had figured this out because he had promptly all but publicly tied my name to his by ‘arranging’ the trade deal that saw the Glassworks sell to White Harbor at a cut price.

In one fell swoop, the annoyingly charming Stark had made it all about him. That he had so won my favour that I had been moved to gift the North with cut prices and that I would only continue to favour him as time went on. Which, of course, was when Borros gave him Red Wolf’s Hold, the lands that had once been Wyl, albeit with a healthy chunk cut out of them and given to Nightsong of course. 

I wasn’t stupid. I knew what the optics were like. The people of the North praised both my name and his in the same sentence, a fact Cregan could not ignore if he won in his struggle against his uncle.

So I had given Bennard leeway I should not and hoped that he could weather the storm he had started in the North gracefully enough that Cregan could not afford to go against his uncle for fear of offending Lords more loyal to Bennard than him. It would appear that I had been proven wrong. Not three weeks past, Lord Cregan Stark had imprisoned Lord Beron and his sons, declaring them traitors that sought to profit off of the regency.

No mention of Bennard of course but the message was clear to any looking for it. It was a challenge: ‘Come face me uncle and you will find I rule the North’

Now Bennard rode for King’s Landing, seeking my aid and advice. No doubt he would bring with him a horde of Borros’ Marcher kin, the Lord of the Stormlands would become vexed if I refused to help and so Bennard would get his way once more. If what was written in Fire and Blood had the right of it, then Cregan was even better than Bennard at this. The Hour of the Wolf was beginning to make more and more sense as time went on and I was consistently made a fool of by these Northerners.

_“Are you your father’s daughter as I once feared? You seem happy to merely hold your position! To merely respond to the plots of others! Exactly as your father would do in your shoes!”_

I crumpled the note, annoyed. I should have seen this coming. I should have headed it off at the pass. Rhaenys’ words stung worse as I realised they were true. Damn her! And damn me for letting it get this bad...

“Jocelyn! We are heading back to the city,” I called. My daughter ceased in her attention to Syrax and began scrambling back towards me. Syrax grumbled, annoyed, but soon clambered to her feet and waded even further into the water, seemingly enjoying the water lapping over her.

“What was in the letter?” Jocelyn asked, eyes flickering to me nervously, after we had mounted up and begun our ride.

“Lord Bennard is coming to visit,” I replied. She grinned.

“Really? Do you think he’s bringing Ben?” I paused and examined her. Benjen was Bennard’s oldest and the current heir to Red Wolf Hold. He was betrothed to a Caron and was a few years older than the twins. He was also the spitting image of his father and the two shared a good portion of their personality too. She blushed under my attention and I smiled knowingly, which only made her face redder. 

“In all likelihood, no,” I told her finally. “He is coming because his goodfather has gotten into a spot of trouble.”

“That is… a Karstark?” Oh my. A crush indeed if she’d even taken the time to remember what family his mother came from.

“Lord Beron Karstark,” I told her. Then I let my features become grim. “Lord Cregan alleges that the bookkeeping for Winterfell during his time as regent was of dubious quality.”

She was silent for a long time and I rolled my eyes.

“He has accused Lord Karstark of stealing his money, little one.” 

“Why would he do that?” she asked, perplexed. “Surely Lord Karstark is not so hard up for coin… or so dishonourable.”

“Never underestimate the depths a man, or woman, can plumb when they are desperate… or are given unchecked power,” I told my daughter. “But I am of the same opinion. Lord Karstark is not the type. It is why Lord Bennard seeks my aid on the matter.”

“And what will you do?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I replied, honestly. She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “But I have until Lord Bennard arrives to think of something, little one.”


	139. Tension - Chapter 116

“Alright!” I called, sweeping in Joffrey’s offices with Aemon at my back after ruminating on the Northern matter for a couple of days. “I have delivered my son for a lesson!”

Joffrey dropped his quill to the desk with a bemused look. No doubt he had been expecting a ‘surprise’ drop-in. He was a master at reading my moods… better even than Laena and Laenor, for all I was supposedly closer to the two siblings.

“Ah,” he said. “Regarding the North, I assume?”

Ah, he’d even guessed the topic. I should be creeped out, or flattered maybe, but mostly it was just useful to have someone that could anticipate what I needed.

“I know about the North,” my son protested as he took his seat. “I’ve read about them and their culture and their art!”

“Yes, I have no doubt you have done,” I said dryly. “But what do you know of Cregan Stark, or even the Starks in general?”

He opened his mouth, no doubt to lecture me on the research he had done over the course of his lessons with his tutors, and I waved my hand back and forth. He had picked that particular habit up from his aunt and his father and could go on for hours when he was speaking on a topic that interested him. Evidently, our Northern neighbours had piqued his fancy. The way he had said ‘culture and art’ told me exactly what drew him to them.

Something told me that under my son’s rule, there would likely be a golden age of culture if nothing else.

“Let’s skip to the start of this little mess in particular, rather than starting with the King Who Knelt. Walton Stark,” I said.

“He was Lord of Winterfell when King Jaehaerys ascended the Throne. He was slain in a rebellion by Maegor’s former supporters, the ones the King had sent to the Wall,” my son told me, sounding as if he were reading straight from a book rather than recalling from memory. “He was succeeded by his brother, Lord Alaric Stark.”

“And what can you tell me about Lord Alaric?” I asked as Joffrey leaned back with an amused expression. I caught his eye and he smiled, his features shining with fondness. Their lessons were not as regular as I liked but Aemon loved his uncle Joffrey and my spymaster could bring him out of his shell in a way no one else could. Joffrey liked to pretend he was the quiet and dangerous spymaster, the man who could order a death or disappearance without blinking, but that mask could never stay up in the presence of our children.

“Lord Alaric became Lord when his older brother died. He… uh, he hosted Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys when the came North and his daughter was sent south with them after that. He was Lord when Queen Alysanne created the New Gift.” 

“A mistake, if there ever was one,” I said. “Well done!”

“Why was it a mistake?” he asked, eye round with curiosity. 

“Because, dear one, the lands that form the New Gift have been steadily losing population for years. The Night’s Watch, as stalwart as they are, can not defend the realm and administer the lands Alysanne gave them. They are too few and this long peace has only whittled down their numbers further. The lords that ruled the lands before had no other duties to distract them from it. I would guess that within a hundred or so years, the New Gift will be as empty as the Gift is now.” I was cheating, I knew, yet it was the truth all the same.

“Then we should give it back to the lords?” asked Aemon. “So they can rule it again?”

“Ah, now there’s the problem,” I chuckled. “Pride will not allow it.”

“Queen Alysanne is a legend and there are those still alive today that met her personally… to so openly reverse one of her decisions would provoke opposition,” Joffrey told him.

“Yet I will find a way,” I promised. There had to be some way of utilising this conflict between nephew and uncle to return the New Gift to the lords of the North and strengthen the Watch at the same time. There was evil in the North and although it would not strike in my time, or even the time of my grandchildren, it would strike eventually. “The Wall was not raised so high for nothing… nor was it raised so high for wildlings. It is our duty, Aemon, to ensure it is kept strong and not left to rot. If only to keep the wildlings from causing trouble.”

“What are wildlings like?” I would have answered my son’s curious question but Joffrey cleared his throat in the manner that indicated he felt we were straying too far from the topic. I shot him a Look. My son needed to learn about Westeros and what threatened it. I vaguely recalled that a King Beyond The Wall had come to threaten the North during the rule of… now who was it? Daeron II? Maekar? One of the kings of that era, regardless. “Perhaps you could summarise the next few Lord Starks, Ser Joffrey?”

“Very well,” he replied smoothly, ignoring my ire. “You are correct in what events happened during Lord Alaric’s reign, Aemon, but you lack the context for them. Alaric was known to have adored his older brother and when there were none left alive who were directly to blame for his death, he shifted his attention to those indirectly responsible. It was King Jaehaerys that had sent so many traitors north and so it was King Jaehaerys’ fault in Alaric’s mind. This blame festered, with hate for the faceless royals of the south growing worse, until Queen Alysanne came north.” 

“But it wasn’t the King’s fault, not really?” said Aemon, Joffrey shrugged.

“Men are not rational, Aemon,” I told him sadly, thinking of Westeros as a whole more than what the Dance would make of my family. “Love, war, loss and heartbreak - such things can make monsters of anyone. Look at the Blackwoods and the Brackens.”

My son, who had been raised with Jeyne and Aly, nodded thoughtfully.

“Something the old King was well aware of. Queen Alysanne came alone to the North because preventing that hate from forming into rebellion could not be delayed. It worked, for the most part. Queen Alysanne became the darling of the North and she did so in a way that even Alaric could not protest at. She wore down his stoic demeanour, she supported the Watch, she flew about the North and met the smallfolk. By becoming loved by his people, Alaric could not move against her or her husband,” Joffrey explained. “And when Jaehaerys finally came north himself, Alaric could not deny their request to give the lands now known as the New Gift to the Watch. How does your mother put it? Alysanne was the velvet glove to Jaehaerys’ iron fist. Alaric had been shown what would happen if he was loyal… and given a taste of what would happen if he was disloyal.”

“Soft power and hard power, Aemon. Do you remember my lecture on the matter?” He nodded furiously. “Queen Alysanne stripped the North of land without a single blade at her back.”

“Indeed,” said Joffrey. “Lord Alaric never forgave them though, even if the North did so happily. When he died in 72AC, he was succeeded by his grandson, Edric Stark. Edric was the son of his first son and although the boy had only just obtained his majority, Edric had been taught Alaric’s grudge at his mother’s teats and was happy to continue it.”

“He was not taught common sense though, he barely ruled for a decade before falling from his horse after a dare.” Aemon flushed guilty. Before I had caught onto her games the first time around, Alys had gotten Aemon to carry out a fair share of dares. He had not been as bad as Jocelyn or Lucerys but it had been annoying to deal with. “And then came Ellard.”

“Lord Ellard Stark was the son of Alaric’s second son,” said Joffrey, retaking the reins of the lecture from me. “He succeeded his cousin in 81 AC and, like Edric, resented House Targaryen for Walton’s death. He summoned his aunt Alarra home from her place by Queen Alysanne’s side and turned down the King’s offer to have Benjen, her son, squire with Prince Aemon.”

“He is the Lord Stark we credit with the founding of the Northern Isolationist Movement,” I told Aemon and I could almost hear the capital letters in my speech. My poor son looked a little overwhelmed with all the sudden information. If I knew him, he’d likely scramble off to write as much as he could remember down as soon as our little lesson was done. “He was the first to actively step away from what the south could offer and focus entirely on the North.”

“Yet even then, the memory of Queen Alysanne’s visit was strong amongst the Northmen,” said Joffrey. “When Prince Baelon died and the Great Council was held to select King Jaehaerys’ heir, they voted for your Papa in honour of her wish for Grandmama Rhaenys to be Queen.”

“And against King Jaehaerys’ wishes.” That was, in my opinion, their biggest motivator. A reminder that, ahem, ‘The North Remembers’ those who have done them wrong. Spite, in other words. 

“Lord Ellard passed away not long after that, also without issue, and Winterfell passed to his cousin, Benjen in 103 AC. Lord Benjen had been born in the south and had long resented the lost opportunities there. He sought to mend the relationship the North had with the south but he did not make much progress with his stubborn lords nor did he last long as ruler. He died in 106AC, leaving Winterfell to Lord Rickon Stark,” Joffrey droned on. I remembered the old curmudgeon’s face clearly, even after he’d been dead for five years. He had never forgiven his brother for going south to fight in Dorne and had taken his refusal to return when commanded to even worse.

He had spent his last few years ranting and railing against Lord Borros, Bennard and me for abandoning the North. He had become a divisive figure by the end, with families like the Flints, Umbers and Boltons rallying to him and the Karstarks, Manderlys and Dustins quietly withdrawing their support in favour of the much more charismatic Bennard, a war hero by that point.

Then he’d died and Bennard’s faction had made its move, checking the Isolationists’ power with Lord Beron Karstark’s appointment and luring supporters to their banner with cheap glass and farming techniques.

“Which brings us to Cregan Stark,” said Joffrey. “Who has recently taken control of Winterfell after accusing his regent of dishonestly using his position to steal coin that rightly belongs to himself as Lord of Winterfell. He has also imprisoned his former regent’s sons and placed Karhold under his own stewardship until the matter is resolved.”

“We have concerns that the arrest was politically motivated rather than for justice’s sake,” I told my son. “And that without our intervention, Lord Beron may not be given a fair trial.”

“But… why?” asked Aemon.

“Do you remember your mother’s friend, Lord Bennard?” asked Joffrey. “He is Cregan’s uncle and the two disagree on many things. Lord Beron is Bennard’s goodfather.”

“Oh,” said Aemon, his eyes lighting up at his realisation. “So Cregan is warning Bennard that he is in charge.”

“Indeed,” I said, smoothing Aemon’s hair back from his face. “And we hope to ensure Lord Beron does not become a victim of that rivalry.”

“It is not to say that Lord Cregan is entirely in the wrong,” said Joffrey. “In many people’s eyes, Lord Beron is part of a plot against him as they seek to weaken him to push their own vision for the North forward.”

“Also true,” I sighed. “And that is another problem, for Bennard was able to entangle your papa and I in the matter.”

“With the glass?” asked Aemon. “For their gardens?”

I nodded and he settled back, looking thoughtful. My College had never truly interested him beyond the two or three scholars that studied architecture. He’d begged Joffrey to take him to see lectures and begged me to buy their books.

Another form of art, I suppose, was my fond thought.

“What will we do?” he asked finally. 

“Now, that is the question, isn’t it?” I said. I had a half thought out plan in mind, it would all depend on what game Cregan was playing of course. “I intend to prevent Bennard storming north as he no doubt intends to, for a start.”

“Wise,” drawled Joffrey. “Cregan would have him in the dungeons before he could demand Lord Beron’s release.”

“Which is what Lord Cregan wants,” breathed my son, his eyes wide. “Because his uncle is threatening him!”

“Well reasoned,” Joffrey said, barely keeping his proud smile from taking over his entire face as he ruffled Aemon’s hair. “We shall make a schemer of you yet!”

“We keep Cregan from his true objective with one hand,” I told them both. “And we offer him a truce with the other. I will send a delegation to Winterfell, one he can not afford to imprison, to gauge his mood and see what peace can be made between us.”

“And what if he doesn’t want peace?” asked Aemon, flattening his hair down anxiously. I grimaced. That was the worst case scenario. If he did not play nicely now, I would more than likely be facing a Green North. Even though he had not spent his full strength to aid Rhaenyra in canon, he’d still been one of her greatest supporters.

What would Alicent do with a mind like Cregan’s at her back?

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it… if we get to it,” I murmured, worrying at my lip. “Tell me Joff, what is Forrest doing these days?”


	140. Tension - Chapter 117

Forrest Frey was attending on his father at the Twins and would not be back in King’s Landing for a week or so, although he should return before Bennard reached us. Thankfully.

It gave me some time to relax anyway. Relax being a relative word given a few days later, I was summoned to my father’s quarters. Family dinners may have become less awkward over the years but I still found myself dreading them.

“Good evening, Aegon,” I said as I rounded the corner, arm in arm with Laenor, to find my sibling staring out the window with a grim look on his face. At the sound of my voice he whirled round, looking as if he might be having some sort of heart attack. When he saw it was me, he pulled a face.

“Rhaenyra, you know I hate that,” he grumbled. The Court was keen to point out that both my brother and I frequently became lost in our own thoughts. The only difference was that these days Ser Steffon, Laenor or one of my ladies were quick to prod me from mine if it became too obvious. Ser Garibald had no such care when it came to my brother. Still, I chuckled in response to his fright before nodding graciously at Ser Steffon’s brother-in-arms.

“Your Grace,” Ser Garibald said in reply with a solemn nod.

“Have you seen Helaena?” asked Aegon, peering around me as if I might have hidden her beneath Ser Steffon’s cloak.

“I have not,” I replied… and then it hit me and I was forced to smile, despite the way my skin still crawled at the knowledge. “Today is the day?”

He fidgeted with his doublet; black edged with green dragons.

“Yes. We can not put it off any longer, your midwife will arrive soon and Grand Maester Edmund is not… he is not as blind as Mellos was.” The statement was accompanied by a guilty look at my hand. I clutched at the prosthetic without meaning to and summoned a weak smile.

“He is certainly better than our last two.” It was as neutral as I could get. Grand Maester Edmund was full of platitudes and apologies, ready to restore the Citadel’s standing in the eyes of the Royal Family, or so he said. He had even offered Gerardys his chain back and had been affably understanding when Gerardys had informed him he wouldn’t take it back even if the Citadel paid him.

And yet it had not taken long to spot their plants trying to infiltrate the College. It had not taken long for Edmund to preach against the Alchemists Guild every time he could reasonably jam it into conversation. It was never about me when it came to Edmund, to do so openly was a one way ticket to being sidelined by my father once more, but he damn well wasn’t on my side. Aegon seemed not to have noted my carefully neutral statement and carried on speaking, his eyes flickering back and forth about the corridor.

“Yes, well, it would be hard to be worse. I thank you for lending us one of your women. Many at Court sing their praises.” Is it possible to feel disgust and happiness at the same time? His nervousness was adorable and yet… it was Helaena! Brother and sister. 

“They have earned every shred of praise. The Seven know I might have lost Alys had they not been so talented,” I said, thinking back to the tank. No pregnancy since had been so difficult. I looked at Laenor, who merely looked at me sadly in return. He would welcome another child with joy.

As would everyone else in my life, practically. Even my ladies, who bore the full force of my pregnancy moods. I had left Sab and Marya back at the manse with a good meal and my children to entertain theirs.

“She was very small,” he said gravely. “Aemond has still not forgiven her.”

“And I have not forgiven Aemond.” He winced at my tone and Laenor’s grip on my arm tightened as if he could not stop himself.

“I understand, Rhaenyra, I really do but… do you not think it underhanded?” His wide violet eyes met mine and it was almost like looking at a puppy that was trying to understand what it did wrong by chewing on the carpet or something.

“Underhanded without a doubt,” I replied, thinking of Jocelyn’s fury and the uncomfortable feeling the idea of Alys being a bully brought. “And I have unleashed Laena on her in turn.”

When Aegon just frowned, Laenor chuckled which made Aegon stare at him in surprise. Laenor never much got involved in conversation during these events father liked to hold. Father loathed him and did not bother hiding it and the feeling was not quite mutual but it was close. He was also neutral at best when it came to the rest of them - well, perhaps that was wrong, like me, he adored Helaena.

“Laena and Alys get on like cats and water,” said my husband, and Aegon’s surprise and confusion drained away to amusement.

“Do they? Helaena had mentioned something to that effect but I truly did not think it so bad.”

“It is quite simple,” I said dryly. “Laena believes Alys to be trouble and is happy to ferret out her bad behaviour as proof whilst ignoring her good behaviour and Alys is convinced Laena hates her and is out to get her.”

Aegon wasn’t listening anymore, however, instead he’d stiffened up. We both turned and followed his gaze to find Helaena approaching us. She was pale and as nervous as her husband, dressed in a deep purple dress and draped in silver jewelry I just knew had been a gift from Jeyne. She smiled when she saw us but it was a weak one.

“It won’t be that bad, sister,” I told her. “It’s Aegon who must worry for his ribs.”

It startled a chuckle from my brother at least. Then he held out his arm, which Helaena took, and we finished the walk to the private dining rooms we were all so painfully familiar with these days. Daeron, Viserra, father and Alicent were already there which was unsurprising. We were all treated to father’s usual bear hugs followed by my own polite but awkward hug with Alicent, an icily correct greeting for Laenor and a much warmer embrace for my siblings.

“Good evening Daeron, good evening Viserra,” I said cheerfully. 

“Good evening, Rhaenyra,” they chorused back dutifully. They were dressed neatly in their Mother’s favourite colour and both had been sitting quietly before we entered. Father gave them an indulgent smile as they turned to greet Aegon and Helaena. In truth, I reflected, I should have made more time for Daeron and Viserra. I had made time for Aegon, Helaena and Aemond but it had been easier then. Even Helaena had discovered how hard it was to play the adoring big sister around the clock. 

My youngest sister was reserved and quiet. She lacked Daeron’s more annoying behaviours and was always polite to everyone but I sensed I did not much figure in her life, even though father had been desperate for her to forge a friendship with the twins. That had gone as well as expected. Viserra had been almost baffled by them, scared of Jocelyn’s rambunctiousness and especially of Morrigan. It was enough to make me wonder if she even wanted a dragon, as even Tessarion frightened her.

I had thought she would get along better with Alys but it seemed destined not to be.

It was Aemond who slunk in last, his doublet rumpled and his hair still damp. The look he shot at me made it clear he still resented the loss of Vermithor. I didn’t need Joffrey to know he spent most of his time this past month on dragon back, practising manoeuvres from the manuals and growing ever more familiar with his new mount. 

“How was your day?” asked father as our meals were laid out before us. He was ignoring Aemond’s sullen silence apparently.

“Well enough, Jocelyn is coming along well. She will soon have both arms free once more.” He smiled at that and dug into his meat pie. “And you, father?”

“Bah, Lord Manfred complains to me once more about Lord Royce.” I grimaced at the pastry I had just scooped up. Lord Manfred Swann and Lord Royce Caron… the two were more argumentative than Jeyne and Alysanne and that was saying something as I once caught the two of them arguing over the colour of a damnable dress. It did not reflect well on Borros that Lord Manfred had bought his complaint to the King but then again, Lord Royce was his goodfather…

“A headache to be sure,” I said with sympathy I actually felt. “It is still about the title Lord Royce claims, I suppose?”

Father nodded grimly and washed down his food with a little wine. Yet before he could reply, Aegon piped up.

“He ought to complain to Lord Borros,” he said as Aemond nodded along with him. “It is not the Crown’s job to interfere with the business of the Lords.”

“I have something to say!” declared Helaena as father dropped his cutlery and opened his mouth to respond. “I… that is, Aegon and I… we are expecting. A child. Probably.”

“Truly?” breathed father, his eyes wide and Aegon’s insubordination forgotten. There were tears in his eyes. He didn’t wait for confirmation but surged to his feet, seizing Aegon and hauling him up before drawing him into a bone crushing hug that had Laenor wincing in sympathy. He had endured his fair share of those when Father forgot his dislike in the face of yet another addition to the family.

“Another niece or nephew,” said Aemond, smiling for the first time I had seen since Dragonstone. “Congratulations.”

He had already known, just like I had. Helaena smiled at him fondly and thanked him all the same though. Laenor rose to clap Aegon on the back after Father finally released him. I might have further congratulated Helaena but Alicent finally recovered from her shock and almost dragged her eldest daughter across the table in her haste to pull her close. Indeed, she ended up spilling wine all over Daeron. I sighed and acquired a napkin to mop him up as Alicent swapped children, leaving Helaena to Father. 

“My doublet is ruined,” he sniffled as I patted him down. 

“You have others,” I told him gently and he glared at me.

“This is my favourite though.” I examined him, the way his hands twisted on the arms of his chair… then how Viserra was clutching her dress tight as she watched Father twirl Helaena around in joy.

Ah.

“Your mother will not mind. I am sure if you ask, she will take you to have a new one fitted,” I told him. He sniffled again and Viserra moved closer, as if she were trying to ascertain if I were the cause. 

“What is wrong?” asked Aemond, apparently noticing our little aside. He was staring at the snot flowing from Daeron’s nose with not a small amount of disgust.

“Helaena spilt wine on him. It is fine,” I told him. When Viserra distracted her brother by laying a hand on his shoulder, I leaned over and whispered to him. “He fears losing his mother’s attention.”

It was enough for Aemond’s eyes to soften, no doubt remembering the days leading to his fostering at Riverrun. He had been afraid then and he had lashed out. Time had taught him his mother still loved him and that nobody had forgotten about him.

“Daeron,” said Aemond, capturing his brother’s attention. “I need a squire.”

Daeron’s violet eyes went round even as Viserra frowned, clearly annoyed. Daeron was the brother she was closest to, if he squired for Aemond then she would be short her usual playmate.

“Perhaps it is best to let Aegon and Helaena have their night, tonight,” I said. “And ask father in the morning?”

“But you would take me as a squire?” asked Daeron quietly. “Really?”

Oh, I had done Daeron a disservice by not playing the older sister, hadn’t I? I had been here. The others had not, so his loneliness was on me, as was Viserra’s. How many times had I told myself I should visit more? 

“Really,” said Aemond. “I did say I would take you.”

“Daeron? What is wrong, sweetling?” Evidently, Alicent had just noticed the small crowd around her youngest son. We parted for her to come and fuss at him. She didn’t seem to notice the stain when she drew him onto her lap and rocked him back and forth as he sniffled into her shoulder. Aegon and Laenor both gave me the same bemused look and Aemond snorted at the sight.

“I will tell father in the morning,” he murmured finally.


	141. Tension - Chapter 118

I was sitting with Laenor in the drawing room, sipping an excellent vintage from the Reach and dozing, when I had a revelation. I had been thinking about how happy Helaena had looked and remembering that feeling of knowing a new life was growing within you. That another one of my children was coming into the world and the joy that brought both me and my husband, my husband who had always been saddened we’d officially stopped at Aemon, who had been so overcome at the idea of Aemma…

“Let’s have another child.” It was worth it to see Laenor choke and spew red wine down his beautiful sea green tunic before staring at me.

“Truly?” he asked, voice faint. “You were set against it… even Aemma was unplanned!”

My reasons for being so seemed faint and far away now; fear it would kill me, fear it was merely an avenue for Corlys to exercise what control he could over me, fear the child would be a daughter and I would go through that pain for nothing. I put my wine glass down and sat forward on the couch, taking his hands in mine and meeting his eyes. 

“Perhaps seeing Helaena so has changed my mind, yet I find myself unable to recall why I dismissed the option.” He swallowed thickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You wish for another child, your father and mother as well. The Seven know Laena and Joffrey would not object… they would delight in another little one.”

We had yet to discuss the matter Corlys had raised, too little time and too much to do. Laenor reached up and pushed some of the hair that had escaped my braid back from my face and smiled, yet it was sad and I couldn’t quite understand why.

“You have had entirely too much wine,” he told me. “I shall escort you to Laena’s side.”

I remained sitting as he stood, ignoring his offered hand, instead favouring him with an annoyed look.

“I am not so drunk that I have lost my wits to wine,” I groused.

“We are hardly going to make a child now,” he said tartly. “So what should it matter if we wait until morning to decide the details?”

Oh, he had me there, even if it was because he thought I’d change my mind on the matter without wine and sleep making my head heavy. I accepted his hand and he drew me to my feet.

“I thank you for the sentiment,” he said. “Truly, I do.”

I smiled into his chest as he pulled me close, he might be a little weepy himself yet there was no sign of it when I drew away.

“Well then, my loyal knight. Perhaps you should escort me to my lady-in-waiting?” He smiled and dropped his arm around my waist. He need not have bothered, I was as steady on my feet as I usually was. Perhaps pretending to himself that I was sloshed was his way of protecting himself from the inevitable disappointment he thought he’d feel tomorrow when I awoke having changed my mind about another child.

He kissed my cheek as a way of good night and I let myself into my rooms to find Laena perched on the bed, absorbed in some sort of tome and… not wearing a whole lot, actually. The wound on her torso was healing well though, I was glad to see her sparring had not reopened it, even if the bruises had faded to a sickly yellow and even green in places. 

“Good book?” I asked and she glanced up, smiling when she saw me. She had her own rooms of course, close to where her children slept but it was not unusual she slept in mine. She was my lady-in-waiting after all.

“Certainly interesting,” she said, putting it aside and smiling at me. “How did your meal go?”

“Helaena made her announcement, Aemond is still sulking with me and… and he intends to take Daeron as his squire.” She rose as I moved to look at myself in the mirror, tugging on her shirt as she seemed to realise she’d gotten distracted undressing. Her long fingers were soon relieving me of my jewelry before she worked at the laces of my gown. I could tell she wasn’t much interested in the minutiae of my family, she cared about who would be a threat in the future and Aemond was high on that list. 

“And take over his training in riding at the same time no doubt,” said Laena. “He’s better than I would have thought he’d be with no teacher and in such a small timeframe.”

“He has father,” I said, shrugging off my clothes until I stood in my shift. “And Aegon and Helaena.”

“Your father, forgive me, but he was no great rider and he does not even have a dragon these days.” I thought about that as she found a brush and began unbraiding my hair. 

“I do not know if I could ride another if Syrax were taken from me.” It was like contemplating losing a limb and stitching on a completely different one in its place… one that did not even match my body.

“I feel the same. I do not judge your father, Rhaenyra, none could compare to Vhagar in my eyes just as none could compare to Balerion in his,” she told me, running the brush through my hair. She had gained some weight this past month, I reflected. She looked far healthier now than she had on her return.

“Do you recall the subject of your father’s little ambush near a week ago?” I asked in the silence afterwards. She paused in her brushing.

“About Driftmark’s inheritance? I recall, yes,” she said. She had apparently seen her father’s outburst coming since her mother had confronted me so brazenly. Not that she’d seen fit to mention either to me or her brother, too involved in her studies and her children. Luke and Rhaena were thrilled at her return and wanted to spend every moment of the day with her. Not that I could begrudge them her time, they had been overjoyed to learn she did not plan another journey anytime soon. “Why?”

I did not miss the look in her eyes, one of cautious hope.

“I may have reconsidered my stance on babes in the face of Helaena’s announcement.” The brush went down and she almost forcibly swivelled me around, her hands on my shoulders as she peered at me.

“That’s great news!” There were tears in her eyes as she drew me in close, holding me tight. Laena had struggled to conceive Rhaena and my niece had been premature. Alannys and Gerardys were of the opinion that she was unlikely to get with child again - another contributor to that terrible breakdown. 

Her reaction to Aemma on her return to King’s Landing told me all I needed to know about her plans to deal with that: she would live vicariously through my children as well.

“Laenor thinks I have drunk too much and will change my mind in the morning.” She guided me to the bed and I sat down, watching as she flitted about the room with nervous energy, putting out candles and dowsing the fire in the grate.

“Laenor does not like disappointment,” she told me, blowing out the last candle and leaving us in darkness. I smiled to myself as I felt her clamber into bed next to me, the way to bed dipped under her weight and how pleasant it was to have her curl into me. “I wish you had not mentioned it, I doubt I shall sleep tonight from excitement.”

“What a shame,” I said and pretended to curl into my pillow, turning my back to her. I heard her choke in indignation and a snicker escaped me.

“Tease,” she muttered, she shifted closer to me under the coverlet. “Help me sleep, my Princess?”

“Are you attending me tomorrow?” I asked, rolling over into her embrace.

“With Falena, yes.” There was an odd tone to her voice but I did not want to think about Falena Waynwood right now, so I kissed her deeply and she returned it happily.

The next morning saw me slowly arrive at consciousness as the birds outside started up their usual loud greeting to the day. I stretched underneath the covers, sighing heavily when my body cracked and popped.

“I hate that,” mumbled Laena from next to me. “I really do.”

I chuckled as she rose, wrapping her robe around herself and shuffling off to tell the maids I was awake and ready for some juice and sliced fruit. We were digging in when a knock on the door disturbed us and Sab slipped in, her customary chain and short sword on display. I paused.

“Is she ill this time or did she finally come out and say it?” I asked, to both of my ladies obvious amusement.

“She begged me to swap shifts,” said Sab dryly, dropping into one of the chairs by the table. “Marya had something to do with the charity and Sera never gives up her shift with the kids.”

“And Maris?” Laena asked, sounding more curious than upset. Falena had refused to have anything to do with her since her return from her second journey and despite the many conversations we’d had on the matter she refused to budge. 

It wasn’t even religious in nature truly. Septon Patrek dealt with the rumours surrounding my lover by pretending she was not a follower of the Seven and therefore not subject to it’s rules. Even Marya had come round, letting her son play freely with Luke and Rhaena and happily gossiping with her old friend.

“She told her to extract her head from her behind and quit being…” Sab trailed off with a glance at me. “Well, let’s just say Maris had words.”

“I will have words with her myself if she keeps this up,” I grumbled, rising from my bed finally and making my way over to where Sab had begun preparing today’s dress. I let myself be tended to as my hair was put into its customary braid and my dress was pulled on around me. “Where has my husband got himself to?”

“He is with Jocelyn in his office, waiting for his man’s arrival,” Sab informed me and I half wondered why he hadn’t gone training until understanding dawned. 

“Ah, no doubt my daughter will be thrilled,” I said. “Feel free to have some time to yourselves whilst I oversee my daughter’s checkup.”

I left them chatting amongst themselves. Laena had hated Sab when I had first invited her into my service. I had been grateful… Sab had saved my life. I could still see her charging my would-be assassins as if it had happened yesterday… actual Dornish assassins this time, courtesy of Walter Wyl. 

I wasn’t even sure why Laena had felt that way, it just seemed to be hate at first sight. Yet Sab had persisted, especially after she had returned from her exile on Dragonstone. Laena had come round eventually and the two had become close enough, no doubt their shared interest in women had helped.

Laenor and Jocelyn were exactly where Sab had said they were and I dropped myself into a chair opposite him. Jocelyn was sat on the floor, frowning at her work book as if it had done her some great insult. My husband looked as if he had not slept although he greeted me with a pleased enough smile.

“Does your head hurt you much this morning?” he joked as I sat.

“Not at all, my love. I did tell you my wits were not addled.” His eyes widened a little and he glanced at Jocelyn. He needn’t have bothered, she was absolutely absorbed in whatever problem she was trying to reason out. “Where are the others this morning?”

“Lessons,” he breathed. “Did you truly mean what you said last night?”

Now Jocelyn glanced up, her face scrunched up as she tried to parse the meaning of her father’s words.

“Did Mama say something mean?” she asked. Laenor chuckled.

“No, little one, she did not. It would only be mean if she did not tell the truth.” 

“And I did tell the truth,” I said, triumphantly. “So it is not mean.”

That just puzzled Jocelyn more if I read the expression on her face correctly. No doubt trying to figure out what would be mean if it wasn’t the truth but not mean if it was. I had a feeling it was because the conundrum was more interesting than her homework. Laenor just stared at me, shifting in his seat as if he wanted to spring up and dance at the news. I gave him the most earnest smile I could. The one he gave me in response was a little watery.

“Do you think they’ll take the bandages off today?” asked Jocelyn, failing to read the mood. “My arm itches all the time!”

Laenor shook himself out of his stupor and gathered her into his arms, ignoring the way she whined in protest at how embarrassing he was being. The sight had me smiling like an idiot again.


	142. Tension - Chapter 119

The removal of Jocelyn’s bandages took most of the morning, mostly because my daughter was unable to sit completely still for any length of time. By the end of it all, I was sure that poor Sanderson might weep as she leapt from her chair a sixth time to run and tell her father about something she had remembered.

“Jocelyn,” I said, my tone carrying a warning. She froze, as if she had forgotten she was supposed to remain seated and trudged back to her chair, the back of her ears turning red in embarrassment. Laenor chuckled as Sanderson gave me a grateful smile.

“Did you truly mean it?” whispered Laenor again, as if he suspected this some cruel trick I was playing on him. 

“Yes,” I whispered back. “But we will discuss it with Joffrey and Laena later. Right now we must focus on our little warrior.”

“Tonight?” he asked, fingers tapping out a nervous beat on his thigh.

“Tonight,” I promised and he smiled at me again, tears threatening to fall.

“All done!” sighed Sanderson in relief. I watched with amusement as Jocelyn held up her arm and marvelled at how pale the skin was. She prodded it experimentally before directing a bright smile at us all.

“Thank you,” she said, evidently remembering her manners before Laenor and I needed to remind her. “Will I be able to play normally now?”

“Be careful for a few more weeks, Princess,” Sanderson told her, placing the soiled bandages into a bag. Likely to be burned, if I knew the practises Gerardys beat into all his students. “You do not wish to break it once more, do you?”

She shook her head very seriously, her features solemn. My firstborn had chafed at the injury… well, it would serve her right for clambering up things just because her sister dared her to. The gash above her eye had healed well enough, although she had earned herself a scar. It was not her first, she was like her aunt Laena that way, she collected them. 

“Now, little one, I believe it is time for you to rejoin the others!” She groaned as I stood up and held out my hand but took it anyway. It took her a full minute to be distracted once again by her newly freed arm once more.

“It’s so skinny,” she whispered. “And pale!”

“It has not seen the sun in some time,” laughed Laenor from behind us. “And it is skinny because you have not used it.”

“It will be normal again, won’t it?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “It won’t always be smaller?”

“It will go back to normal soon enough,” I told her and the worry in her eyes faded but did not die. “As long as you are gentle with it.”

“What if it doesn’t?” she whispered. “Then-”

I frowned at her as she cut herself off.

“It will, I promise,” I told her. “What is wrong?”

She pressed her lips together in a manner that told me I was unlikely to get an answer from her. I sighed and caught Laenor’s eye. He looked just as helplessly confused as I was by the matter. She was clearly worrying about something.

“I will not force it from you,” I told her, as her violet eyes met my own. “But if you ever want to talk to me about anything, even if you think it is silly, I will always have time for you. So will your father.”

“Thank you Mama, thank you Papa,” she mumbled before tugging insistently on my hand. “We have lessons!”

“Ah, our little one is eager all of a sudden,” japed Laenor as we began walking again. It had unsettled him as well, this strange behaviour from her. Perhaps it might be worth asking Laena, although the thought made my heart ache with the knowledge she might know my children better than I did.

It turned out we needn’t have hurried Jocelyn along anyway, for when we opened the door to the room the children took their lessons in, they were enjoying a snack break. I marvelled at how it changed, from a dining room that was considered small by the manses’ standards to a brightly lit and even more brightly decorated classroom.

When Corlys had bought the manse, most of it had not been in use. It was huge, ridiculously so, even for a building close to the Red Keep. I had been told, and I could believe it, that it had been some lord’s prestige project back when Jaehaerys had been young. Perhaps that explained why Corlys had bought it all those years ago. Yet I could not deny how useful it had been in keeping me out of the Red Keep. Most manses could boast ten, perhaps twelve, bedrooms with a fair few of those being for the use of live-in staff.

We did not have much live-in staff here, not anymore. We needed the space. There were sixteen of us, all that needed their own rooms… the manse may have about twenty bedrooms but all of them were full and only a vanishingly small amount of that space was staff space.

It was costing a fortune in the ‘housing benefit’ we gave to those who should have a room here but didn’t. There had been no argument about moving to the Keep though, even a decade later I still could not do it. Still, there might be something in buying out the next door neighbours…

“You’re doing it again,” chuckled Laenor, poking me in the ribs. I jabbed him back and forced myself to focus on the children now that they had greeted Jocelyn, thoroughly examined her wrist and then gone back to whatever they had been doing before our entry.

“My apologies,” I said dryly. “I’ll try to keep myself as thoughtless as possible. Would that please you, husband?”

That made him snicker. I turned my attention to the children. Aliandra was regaling Jeyne and Aemma with some tale from Dorne’s past, Alysanne and Jocelyn appeared to have gotten into an intense discussion about bows and swords… a discussion Rolph was occasionally interjecting in, weighing in on Jocelyn’s side. That did not surprise me, he had talent with the blade and Jocelyn was a frequent sparring partner. Alyssa was watching them bicker, amused. She’d thrown her arms around Jocelyn’s neck and begged for forgiveness once again, which Jocelyn had stoically granted before collapsing into giggles.

Aemon was curled up with a book on art he’d likely liberated from the Keep library last time he had been set loose in there. I blinked as I realised what I had mistaken for a blanket over his knees was the damn cat, taking advantage of the only still child he could find. I met his green eyes with an unblinking stare.

“Really?” snorted Laenor. “It’s a cat, Rhaenyra.”

“It’s evil,” I told him, memories of scratches and bites making my arms tingle. I regretted getting them that cat so much. He loved the children but he hated me. “Where are Luke and Rhaena anyway?”

“With Joff,” he said cheerfully. “His father is in town.”

“Ah,” I said. It did not surprise me that I had not been told. Hells, I doubted Laena knew in truth. Joffrey was touchy when it came to his family. Lord Gyles was proud of his son but I know it still stung the Lonmouth lord that he had not risen so high with his own family name but the Velaryon one. It also did not help matters that Lord Gyles had come to hate Laena… he had pushed for Joffrey to annul the marriage after she had fled in the aftermath of Rhaena’s birth. Something Joffrey had only admitted at the hour of the bat after Rhaena had been screaming for most of the night. He had been tired and upset, the only reason he had even allowed himself to rant and rave about Laena in the way he did.

He had apologised for it later, in typical Joffrey fashion.

What I did know for certain, however, was that Lord Gyles believed Lucerys to be his grandson, believing Joffrey had gotten Laena with him after their respective childhood crushes had gotten out of hand. Luke and Rhaena were fond of their father’s father. I had been told Lord Gyles was given to spoiling them both - sweetmeats and presents that had Laena huffing with equal parts annoyance and laughter when they returned from a visit.

“No doubt he will be thrilled at your decision,” said Laenor. I smirked, I knew he’d be unable to contain himself for long. “I did not tell him last night.”

“I told Laena. So it appears Joff will be the last to know.” And he would likely sulk about being so too, although he would understand why Laenor had not brought the matter up. 

“He hates being the last to know anything these days,” said Laenor dryly. I pushed myself off of the door frame and shut the door to the classroom gently, bidding goodbye to them all with a wave.

“Do you miss your Knight of Kisses?” I asked, as we ambled off. “The way he was before Criston?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Joff was… you did not really know him then. He wore his heart on his sleeve, he was honest and warm.”

“He threatened to duel me for your honour,” I teased and Laenor smiled before sighing again.

“I wish he could regain some of that openness, Rhaenyra. Now he hides it all away from me.” And Laenor hated that because it was partly leftover from the days Joffrey had felt he needed physical distance from Laenor… and a decade had not healed that, just as it had not healed his leg.

“He hides it from everyone,” I pointed out. “Then he weeps about it when it all becomes too much.”

“To Laena,” he groused. “Or you.”

“Only because we were convenient and because he loves you too much to want to burden you with such things.”

“I would gladly bear those burdens a thousand times over!” protested Laenor.

“Have you told him this?” I asked and he blushed red.

“He is adept at ensuring I never get the chance,” he grumbled over my snickers. “I am not saying I want the man he was back, I love the man he has become, I just wish-”

He trailed off, waving his hands about and I sighed. I understood, even if Laenor was not able to put his desires into words. Well, it too eerily mirrored my thoughts on Laena. She had grown so much since Daemon and she had been damaged so much as well. It forged someone I loved with all my heart and yet part of me wanted to see that carefree ditzy version of her instead of the focused and occasionally grim woman she could be now.

“Do you think they talk of us like this?” asked Laenor suddenly. 

“Complain about our shortcomings more likely,” I japed and he giggled. I could well picture Joffrey and Laena’s conversations about us. A sudden flicker of glee ran through me. “Certainly Joffrey and I complain about you to one another!”

He gaped at me like a fish before I could not restrain my smirk and gave the game away. 

“Do you get together when Laena and I go riding with mother?” he asked, struggling to contain his giggles at the thought. A family bonding exercise Rhaenys had instituted after Laena’s return. Sometimes I wondered what might have happened had Laena returned hale and healthy… certainly she would not have earned anyone’s forgiveness. Least of all Rhaenys, who had been a frequent visitor to Dragonstone in the year it had taken me to calm down after her return.

It pains me to admit but had it not been for Rhaenys’ increasingly panicked letters regarding Laena’s state, I might not have seen her at all, merely concluding my business with Ser Rogar and Marilda and then going on my way.

“Sometimes. Other times we observe Court with a good vintage to savage the different fashions.” That got him laughing harder.

“Ha! Perhaps I should take up a similar practice with Laena?” he joked. 

“You should. Your disagreement has gone on for too long.” My unexpected firmness ended his laughter.

“Our disagreement… do you forget what she did to you? To Joffrey? To our children?” There was heat there.

“Do you not think she has paid for it?” I asked. 

“No. You say she broke but I saw Joffrey break too. I saw you break. I saw mother grieve and rage and I saw my father… he gave up on her!” I winced. “I swore I would be civil, Rhaenyra, but I did not swear to clutch her close once more. To accept all she did and forgive her for it.”

“I am not asking you to,” I replied. “I am asking you to build something new from the wreckage of what you were to each other.”

He dashed away the tears that threatened and I caught his wrist with my hand, placing it over my cheek. He swallowed thickly, struggling to hold himself in check.

“You need not hide it from me,” I whispered. “Let the mask of perfect prince fall and be my friend and husband in truth.”

“That is not fair,” he said. “You were the one that forced me to wear it to begin with.”

“As I wear my own. We can not be who we wish to be. None of us can, Laenor. We should at least bind ourselves to one another. We are the only ones that know, that understand.”

He stared out of the window, throat bobbing and features formed into a terrible frown. When he spoke, his voice was rough and raspy.

“I will speak to her and to Joffrey,” he said, removing his hand from my cheek. “But I make no promises when it comes to her.”

“All I ask for is that you try.”


	143. Tension - Chapter 120

If there was one thing I regretted, it was that my control on the Small Council had slipped ever so slightly. I still held the majority but Green power had unmistakably grown although with Lord Borros allied with me, Lord Jasper wavered more often than not.

Perhaps I may be able to sway him yet. All the rewards in the world would matter little if I could persuade Borros to crack down on House Wylde.

“Your Grace, might I be able to escort you to today’s meeting?” I swallowed my urge to shudder and smiled at Larys Strong. I even managed to make it look half natural.

“I would be pleased to accept, Lord Strong!” We were so very good friends, after all he had freely sworn every oath my father, and his, had made him when he took his place as Master of Whisperers. Somehow the act that was supposed to reassure me just set my teeth further on edge.

His little obsession with Joffrey was still ongoing and had only grown, like some kind of horrific fungus, since we had first come to realise it.

“Tell me, might our Master of Whisperers know what is on today’s agenda?” I asked. Father had not mentioned but it was likely more of the same. Westeros’ many woes and little good news to be found amongst all the shit.

“I believe there is a small incident in the North His Grace wishes to discuss,” Larys said, his smile mocking. “And of course, the Braavosi grow ever more tiring.”

“They still push for a permanent representative at Court?” I asked and Larys nodded grimly. Well, at least Alicent and I had found yet another topic we could agree on… even if we disagreed on what needed to be done about it.

The Braavosi had undergone a change in management. A hazard of sorts when it came to Sealords, I had come to understand. The previous one had been rather hands off when it came to the Iron Bank and who it loaned to. The new one was not pleased the institution had enabled the Conquest of Dorne. 

Which is not to say he could officially punish them or sanction them in anyway but he had made his displeasure known. Poor Laraz, who had approved our little loan, had been found dead a month after the new Sealord had been elected. Everyone agreed it had been his heart giving out finally and that the man had gone peacefully in his sleep. Jaerys Sorrelion had gone next, stabbed to death in a tavern brawl that had gotten out of hand.

As for dear Tycheo’s kinsman, Maranos… well, he was in the wind as far as the Braavosi were concerned. As far as I was concerned, he was employed in the custom houses of Spicetown. Should he prove useful, I might refer him to Lyman to train up.

He’d come begging on bended knee to Corlys. The Hartios family was ruined and he was next on the Sealord’s hit list. He’d had nowhere else to flee to, not truly. He did have a tiny shred of leverage against Corlys, although it was a shred. Had Laenor not been present at the meeting, the Lord of Tides would likely have sent him on his way regardless.

“Indeed. And we, of course, can not afford to pay them should they call the debt,” Larys sneered. The Greens wanted father to borrow from the Lannisters or the Hightowers and rid ourselves of the Iron Bank that way, but father was not so far gone that their suggestions sounded like good ideas so far.

I wasn’t sure if that would change as the Iron Bank applied yet more pressure.

“They will not call the debt,” I said with confidence I was entirely sure was warranted. “It would damage them far more than us if we did not pay it.”

Larys merely shrugged as we reached the doors of the Small Council chamber. Lyman, Edmund and Jasper were already there, talking quietly among themselves. Corlys and Lyonel would likely arrive together, I know the two men were still fond of sharing a drink before making their way down.

As for father… well, that was anyone’s guess. He attended religiously, of course, in the way he had done since Daemon’s final banishment, but he was not always on time these days. No sooner had I taken my seat then, as predicted, our Master of Ships and Hand of the King arrived together, looking as if they had just finished sharing a wonderful joke between them.

Their smiles dimmed noticeably as they took their seats in the silence that sprung up since Larys and mine’s arrival had killed whatever debate Lyman, Jasper and Edmund had been having.

“Has anyone seen my father today?” I asked after too long passed with no words.

“He is attending to your brother, Daeron, Your Grace,” Edmund informed me. He was a tall man, Edmund, with a kind face. His fair hair was threatening to turn grey soon enough and his hazel eyes almost sparkled when he smiled. He certainly had the best bedside manner I had seen in any Maester, excluding Gerardys of course, whose cool competence had never failed to put me at ease.

“Is Daeron well?” I asked and Edmund nodded.

“He has complaints regarding his squiring.” That got chuckles of amusement out of us all. Aemond had done exactly as he said he would the morning after Helaena’s announcement almost a week ago now. By all reports he’d marched into our father’s chambers and declared, leaving no room for argument, that Daeron would be his squire going forward and that he had a list of rules for this.

Alicent had gone ballistic, of course, but with every member of the family supporting Aemond bar Viserra, it was a foregone decision. Daeron had been given a room in Aemond’s suite instead of his own, he was in Aemond’s service six days out of seven and had been told, in no uncertain terms, he was to act like it. Which meant no running to Alicent unless it was his day off.

“Aemond is a fine knight,” I declared, to the surprise of the table. “Daeron could do much worse by being in his service.”

“I agree, Your Grace,” replied Jasper. “Both of your brothers are fine knights and finer men. Daeron would do well to heed the advice they give him.”

We were saved from further discussing my brother’s virtues by the doors opening once more and my father marching inside, his face a rictus of anger. I winced. Such an expression did not bode well for this week’s meeting. Even seeing us readily assembled did not give him pause. Instead he threw himself into his seat and fixed us all with a glare that bordered on sulky.

“Well?” he demanded. “Get to it.”

I placed my hand over his and he blinked, violet eyes falling to it, before he sighed heavily and summoned a small smile.

“My apologies, my lords, I have had a trying morning.” He clutched my hand, giving it a squeeze, before releasing it back into my custody. I did not miss the grateful looks some members of the Council shot me for so adeptly diffusing their King.

It still did not mean they should not tread carefully around him.

“Perhaps we should start with domestic matters,” said Lyonel, giving each of us a sharp look.

“We have had no more riots in Dorne this past month and a bit,” I pointed out. “And the Vulture King met the forces of the Ullers in battle. A battle they supposedly lost.”

“Indeed,” said Larys. “Although the Garin matter continues to vex me. I have to discover where the man is… or how he communicates with his followers.”

I might have sneered at that but Joffrey was similarly stumped. We had gone as far as searching Tyroshi brandy imports for hidden messages at one point. Nothing.

“I once again recommend that we seize the Stepstones,” said Corlys. “If Garin intends to take his Sunspears to Dorne, he will have to use the islands as a staging area.”

“The islands are infested with pirates and sellsails. They serve as a more than adequate defence at no cost to us,” said Lord Jasper. “I fear that the realm’s finances could not manage an invasion and the cost to hold it afterwards.”

“It could not,” said Lyman as Corlys sat back in his chair, scowling fiercely. Gods, Lyman looked so frail now. It made my heart hurt to look at him. “We already struggle with the payments to the Iron Bank alongside the money for Dorne’s economy.”

“Your Grace, if I could suggest scaling back some of those payments?” said Edmund. “The Dornish economy is the strongest it has been since the Dragon’s Wrath. We win no more hearts by continuing these payments.”

“Lord Aron and Ser Gwayne report that it inches closer to being profitable every year. It will begin making money within the next few years,” said Lyman. Father stroked his moustache in thought. The Dornish Economic Plan had been Lyman’s idea and the amount of cunning it betrayed had surprised me.

He had put forth a model to develop the production of luxury exotic goods within Dorne rather than focusing on food. It was expensive, our treasury certainly knew that, but when it was complete, Dorne would be very profitable indeed.

And nearly all of its arable land would be taken up by spices, grapes and other such enterprises. It meant that they were entirely reliant on food shipments from other areas of Westeros and their dream of being self-sustaining was dead in the water. 

“As long as the markets are there,” said Edmund, proving that he had paid attention in his Economics lectures. 

“Westeros is market enough in the beginning,” I replied. “Then Braavos, who will be happy to have luxury goods not produced by slaves.”

“Yet the Sealord sulks with us,” said Larys. “Trade is difficult.”

“Not too difficult,” rebutted Corlys. “His disapproval has done little to limit the glass the Braavosi buy from us.”

“Enough!” barked father finally, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I will not deviate from Lord Beesbury’s plan for Dorne. Nor will I send a fleet to the Stepstones. If you wish to seize them once more, Lord Corlys, you are free to do so but you will do it on your own.”

“As for Dorne,” he continued when we all remained silent. “Send for my cousin. I want her to fly down there and remind them why they should fear us.”

I did not miss the way Corlys tensed slightly at that but he did not protest. His wife was loathe to let on how much damage that Dornish knife had done to her leg. She’d fly to Sunspear even if it flared up once more out of pride if anything else and the fact she’d barely be able to move once she got there would not even enter into her decision.

“By your will, Your Grace,” said Lyonel, noting down father’s decision.

“What other matters trouble my realm?” asked father. 

“The Northern issue,” Larys replied. “Lord Beron is still imprisoned and the lords of the North become restless.”

“It's preposterous!” Lord Jasper burst out. “Lord Karstark is clearly innocent of these charges. The boy lord seeks to lure his uncle North to settle old scores!”

“Yet he claims to have proof,” pointed out Edmund, voice mild. “And we can hardly go about interfering with the Great Lord’s rights to visit justice on their own vassals without invitation.”

“I intend to send a delegation,” I said. Father stared at me, mouth set in unhappiness. “Lord Bennard is a friend and will be arriving within the week to personally request that I intercede in the matter. I trust being invited by one party is enough to interfere?”

“Why does Lord Bennard even seek to go North?” asked father, perplexed. “What case does a man who has not set foot in his realm for near a decade have to answer?”

“It is complicated,” I replied before even Edmund or Jasper could. “But the long and short of the matter is Lord Bennard feels his goodfather will not receive a true trial. Cregan has his father’s resentment of Bennard.”

“Humph,” said my father, not wishing to question family dynamics lest the stone he threw shatter his glass house. “I shall leave it to you then.”

“I believe that covers the more pressing domestic issues,” said Lyonel. “Barring a small skirmish between Bracken and Blackwood men that took place not a few days back.”

Oh boy, that was going to be a fun evening when Jeyne and Aly found out.

“The Tullys have it well in hand, however,” continued Lyonel. “Does anyone else have anything to add?”

“I wish to discuss a small matter.” Edmund’s mouth takes on a particular set when he’s about to bring the Guild up. Ten dragons says it regards my most controversial supporters. “It has come to my attention that part of the research quarters occupied by the Alchemist’s Guild on Dragonstone blew up recently...”


	144. Interlude - Bennard

The sight and smell of King’s Landing had put him in a miserable mood. He felt it fair, for the South was a miserable place. Even in the winter months it had been too warm, the air too still and rank besides… and the land far too tame.

He missed the wilds of the North, he missed the danger of it. He missed the winds howling against the walls of Winterfell, he missed the snows and the rains and the way the fire that roared in the hearth warmed his bones in a way no fire of the south ever could.

He was a son of the North, not even a decade of exile, a decade of playing the tame northern barbarian could take that from him. 

“Have you had word from Her Grace?” asked Lord Royce Caron as they rode through the city. 

“No,” he growled back. It did not surprise him. If he knew the princess as well as he thought he did, she’d be livid with him in the way she often was when she spotted his little schemes too late. Ha! Perhaps he would flirt with her as she ranted and cursed, really see the dragon come forth…

It was the little pleasures that had made this last decade bearable; riling his patron, southern women and the fights against the Dornish.

“This is foolishness,” growled the Marcher Lord. “We should be sailing there with good men at our back, not scraping before a woman so that she may solve our problems for us.”

“That woman will be our Queen,” he told him. He found he did not mind the prospect all that much. She was fierce in a way most southerners were not. And, he thought with a grin, especially fun to poke into anger. “Nothing to say to that, Royce?”

“My liege lord has made his intentions clear.” And your daughter is making damn sure they’re followed, he thought with a savage grin. Lady Elenda wanted one of her daughters on the Throne and now that she had finally provided her husband with a son, she could focus on doing so.

Woe betide the man that did not fall in line behind her. She would scour the Stormlands of the ‘Greens’ before long.

“She is a dragon. Well above wolves and nightingales.” He turned to his son. Five and ten now and already a man in truth. He’d killed his first man not a few months back… and bedded his first woman too. “So is her daughter.”

Benjen flushed red, the patchy beard he was still trying to grow doing nothing to hide it.

“Princess Jocelyn is ten years of age.” And had followed his boy about like a lost puppy the last time they’d been here, not even a year ago. “And betrothed to Rolph Reyne, father.”

“Ha! Who said anything about marriage!” He ignored Royce’s scoff. Benjen was betrothed to the man’s granddaughter. Elenda’s price for what had been Wyl… and for her ongoing support. Another woman who played the game like a northerner did. Still, at least Elena was being fostered with her lady aunt, if he were lucky she’d have a spine and make a worthy wife for a Lord of Winterfell.

That massive manse was soon in sight, a small hoard of servants in sea green waiting to serve them as if they were the average incapable lordling. They were greeted by her man, of course. She sent him to do all her dirty work… and rumour had it, it was dirty work indeed. They said Joffrey Velaryon could make a man disappear overnight. He believed it. The man had a hungry look to him, his pleasant smile doing little to hide those cold eyes that seemed to judge him… and find him wanting.

“My Lord, welcome to King’s Landing. Her Grace invites you to enjoy a dinner with her tonight but regrets to say she can not host you personally. I have taken the liberty of booking your party rooms at a reputable inn nearby.” She was furious indeed if she wasn’t even bothering to have them hosted in the Red Keep. Her man’s polished manners did little to mask the sneer in his voice.

He dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a waiting groom. The rest did so as well. He was happy to see Benjen did not look as ill at ease as the rest of his little party did. The Stormlords had not met the Princess personally, they did not know her temperament.

She waited for them just inside, dressed in far too much fabric and jewels. It was the only off-putting part about her. Just as well he’d never made a play for her hand, she would not have enjoyed the fashions of the North.

“Lord Bennard Stark, Lord Royce Caron, Ser Rolland Morrigen, Ser Olyvar Penrose and Ser Benjen Stark!” called the Herald.

They made their obeisances and he was sure to keep his eyes on hers as he bowed, letting her see his grin and his teeth. He had been sure, all those years ago, that bedding her would be easy. Her husband preferred his knight, after all, and a rogue was always a temptation to her sort. Alas, it was not to be. It would have been easier if he had snared her, but a dragon was not so easily baited by the wolf it seemed.

Her blushes were still sweet.

“Your Grace,” he said finally. “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

She glared at him, almost pouting. Oh, angry indeed! Ser Joffrey limped off, not bothering to say his goodbyes to them.

“I am always pleased to host friends.” Her tone was sharp. “I have made rooms available for you to freshen yourselves for the meal.”

He would not have taken the offer but even the Stormlords, the least pretentious of all the southerners, fell into bad habits. He and Benjen whiled away an hour or two, speaking of the things that passed between father and son before the rest of their party re-emerged.

A servant came by to collect them soon after. The Princess was nothing if not efficient… and disinclined to let bored strangers loose in her home given what had happened to her lady.

The dining room was already near full. Her husband was there, of course, with his habitual suspicious stare, and her goodsister too. The one that rumours swirled about like a black cloak. He made a note to be respectful of that one, she had the same look as her husband. The type of look that promised a quiet disappearance in the night.

Although he could detect no trace of that in her now, with her youngest on her knee, nodding along in what seemed to be genuine joy as the girl regaled her, and her husband who sat her side with some tale or other. He did not miss the way Benjen’s eyes flickered with longing to where the rest of her small horde of children had been seated. He also did not miss the eldest twin, the one that had the look of the Queen Who Never Was, sit up slightly straighter in her chair as she spotted his son.

A missed opportunity there, but it was no matter. Perhaps the next generation would see a Stark queen or a Targaryen Lady of Winterfell.

“Is Lord Gyles not joining us?” asked Royce as they were seated. He watched the witch’s eyes narrow at her husband. The man ignored it, of course. If what he had pieced together from long forgotten rumours was right, their marriage was a sham… but a necessary one, given her rumoured lover had been the now exiled Prince Daemon.

“Grandpapa is sick,” said the one Benjen called Luke. “He has a cough.”

“A shame,” said Royce. “I will call on him tomorrow.”

“Father would be happy for that,” said Joffrey. “He has long respected you, Lord Royce.”

“And I will have one of Gerardys’ men sent to look in on him as well, Joffrey,” said Rhaenyra, smiling softly at him. “A cough can be dangerous for a man of his age.”

“Indeed,” said Laena Velaryon and he detected frustration there. “I would not wish anything untoward to happen to him.”

Her brother kicked her under the table and the Princess frowned angrily. He poured himself some wine and sat back in his chair, meeting her eyes with a smile. These little visits never failed to amuse him. If only his brother had been like this… he might have stayed in the North and played the loyal dog.

But his brother had been a dour man, content to let the North die by a thousand cuts as he ignored all the opportunity the south could bring them solely for one man’s grudge… a man who had died decades ago. The North would drown and die in that grudge eventually.

There was a part of him, a small part, that had whispered he ought to sit back and see what his nephew intended to do about the matter. To see if he would go the path his father would or if Cregan Stark would be more like his grandfather. 

Benjen Stark had understood what the south could do for them and Rickon had betrayed him when he has reversed his decisions and plans…

No. He was the one that truly saw what the North could be, what Benjen Stark had wanted the North to be, and only he could bring it about. He sipped his wine as they brought the first course in, studying the Princess once again.

Now how to approach the matter? Righteous fury? The schemer? What would have her dancing to his tune this time?


	145. Flash Point - Chapter 121

Dinner had been interesting, to say the least. Between Laena and Joffrey glaring at one another, Laenor trying to subtly play the peacekeeper while also run interference between Bennard and me and Bennard grinning at me like some kind of lunatic I felt ready to scream. Finally we finished up and Bennard dispatched his party of Stormlanders to the inn I’d hired out for them; he did not need them for the main event, for their presence rammed home the point he wanted to make quite handily.

Okay, technically, Joffrey already owned it so I hadn’t hired anything out, I was not spending any more money than I needed to on Bennard fucking Stark, but my point remains the same. Yet before I could attend to my unwelcome guests, I needed to ensure the children had a suitable amount of watchers. 

I did not need them raising hell while I was trying to negotiate with Bennard. I would need all my wits focused on him and not on what my children had just broken.

“Auntie Rhae, will you read us our bedtime story tonight?” asked Rhaena as I dropped a kiss on her forehead, smoothing back her dark hair.

“Of course! If you all go and play quietly with Lady Sera and Septa Leyla, I will come by and read you all a story,” I told them, well aware of Bennard’s eyes on my back. “But only if you are good.”

“Will it be an adventure story?” asked Jocelyn, looking excited. I caught Sera’s eyes and she was quick to forestall the conversation for me.

“Come now,” she laughed. “We shall pick the story together for your Mama to read to us.”

“Can we have a story with a handsome prince?” I heard Aemma ask as they filed out. I could not make out Luke’s scorn filled response but I was able to hear Sera’s sharp command that they not argue in the hallways while guests were present.

“My apologies, Lord Bennard.” The Northern lord merely shrugged, his grey eyes were glinting dangerously though. Truly, with the frustration pouring off of him now, I was amazed he’d kept his temper through a long dinner and so much small talk - even Joffrey and I had been bored by it.

“Shall we proceed to the drawing room to discuss matters?” asked Joffrey.

“I’ve had father’s best vintages brought out for your perusal, Lord Stark,” said Laenor, smiling without a great deal of friendliness. Laenor was of the opinion that blushes from me were his to win. Well, and Laena’s and Joffrey’s. Certainly not Bennard Stark’s, though.

I wasn’t even sure what it was about the man that had heat rushing to my cheeks when he smiled in that roguish way of his or when he made some blatant innuendo and waited for my anger.

He was stiff when he dropped into a low couch. I allowed myself to sit a tad more delicately, smiling slightly when Laenor dropped his arm over my shoulders and Laena fixed him with such a look it was probably a miracle he did not turn to stone on the spot.

“I care little for wine at the moment,” he said before Laenor could offer him any. “I care about what can be done regarding my goodfather.”

“We have discussed the matter intently, Lord Bennard. Joffrey has done some further investigation into the matter as well.” Joffrey nodded seriously at that yet the discontented look in Bennard’s eyes did not die.

“No doubt it has turned up Beron is innocent. The man might be a stick in the mud but he’s no fucking thief,” barked the Northerner.

“Hmmm,” said Joffrey and Bennard bristled. The fact that Laenor leaned forward had me worried I might soon see a battle. “When Lord Cregan accused him of stealing, he was not entirely wrong. It hinges on the laws surrounding regency, you see.”

“Go on,” I said, before Bennard to could speak up and interrupt once more. Joffrey gave me a gracious nod and next to me, Laenor settled slightly. Laena’s eyes were still fixed on our guest though, for all he seemed not to care.

“There is something of a grey area when it comes to the actions of Lord Regents, as I’m sure you all understand. There is a little they are expressly banned from doing, you see, as long as they feel they are, in the exact words of the law, ‘acting within the best interests of their ward’.” Bennard was still scowling when Joffrey finished.

“Beron took his duty seriously. Are you implying otherwise?” he asked, tone causing Laenor to tense up again.

“Cregan certainly does,” said Joffrey, ignoring the hostility. “His argument surrounds the subsidies Beron was quick to give to Northern lords as long as they used the funds to buy cheap glass from the Glassworks and constructed glass houses. Cregan claims this has saddled the North with debt, forced them to further serve the south over themselves and that the policy was only available to lords who agreed to support your claim to Winterfell.”

Bennard said nothing to that, his grey eyes blazing with anger.

“He is reaching, of course,” I interjected smoothly. “We know well that isn’t true.”

“Have you ever gone hungry? Any of you?” growled Bennard. “The North needs that glass. I brought three thousand men south last winter, they abandoned their homes and families because they knew that if they stayed they’d doom them.”

“I would point out,” spat Laena, sending all of our heads whipping around, “that you have never gone hungry either, Bennard Stark.”

“Yet I agree with the sentiment,” I said, amused beyond belief that Bennard seemed to have nothing to say to that at least. “The North does need glass houses if it wishes to survive the harsher winters. Glass houses and southern allies willing to send food.”

“We are proud men,” he said. 

“Pride does not fill bellies and even proud men can trade. Yet we did not come here to discuss such matters,” I said. “We came to discuss what we are doing about Lord Beron’s arrest.”

“My nephew is spitting on everything Lord Beron has done for him! Has done for the North!”

“Calm yourself, Lord Bennard,” I said. “We have a plan ready for your approval.”

“I would rather you accompany me north, Princess,” said Bennard, leaning forward. “My nephew would not risk making a travesty of justice with the eyes of a dragon on him.”

Ah. So that was what he truly wanted. He wanted to march north, humiliate his nephew and do it all with a dragon at his back to avoid the consequences. I was starting to understand why Cregan had thrown him in prison along with his sons in the original timeline. He was like a cockroach.

“I can not go to the North, I am afraid, as much as I wish I could,” I sighed, hoping I looked genuinely regretful. “I have many duties to fulfil here.”

“Surely a month or two-” Laenor leaned forward, dropping a hand over my stomach.

“Many duties, my lord, many important duties.” He got the hint and leaned back into the couch, looking like a petulant child.

“Then what is your plan?” he asked. “Any you send to accompany me will merely be arrested as well.”

“I would ask you not to go, Lord Bennard. The trap is obvious, after all. The best bet you have is not to spring it and instead allow us to negotiate on your behalf.” I could tell from the moment I finished my sentence he would not go for it off the bat. He wanted that confrontation, he wanted to rile Cregan and he wanted me to be at his back while he did it.

“You would bar me from my home? You would have me sit in King’s Landing whilst others did my work!?” he almost screeched. I checked my amusement, I had not known his voice could get so high. I should prick his pride more often if he were so intent on winding me up.

“Yet if Cregan captures you, there is little hope of retrieving you from his dungeons,” I said, voice still sorrowful. “We must deny him any opportunity to.”

“So I must cower in the south whilst a boy of seven and ten threatens my family,” he sneered.

“It is distasteful, yet should you go north, we can not aid you.” Joffrey’s tone carried just the right amount of warning and Bennard swallowed thickly. No doubt he had visions of charging north anyway, of forcing us to follow, if only to keep the consequences of his actions from catching up to him.

“Who will you send then?” he growled.

“We have secured the assistance of Forrest Frey-”

“The Fool Frey!?” bellowed Bennard, surging to his feet. “You insult me!”

“I’ll grant he was an optimistic youth,” I said, keeping my tone mild and refusing to crane my head to peer at him. “But time has tempered his view and he is loyal to me. A few of your Stormlander friends will accompany him of course… and a few knights from my own household.”

Cregan would find it hard to imprison them, given none of them were associated with this so-called crime. I did not expect him to fall over himself to release Beron or be overwhelmed by the attention of the Heir to the Iron Throne. A man like Cregan wasn’t the type, yet I hoped he’d at least meet me halfway on the matter.

Or, in the best case scenario, try and win me from Bennard’s side with promises of support. Of course, throwing Bennard under the bus would be tricky but as long as I could get Lady Elenda to agree…

This is probably why Bennard really doesn’t want to give me control of the negotiations, now I think on it. Well, tough. I will not bend on this. I have had enough of this guy messing me about and putting my bid for the Throne in danger. He does not know who his nephew is yet but I do.

I may not be willing to chase after Cregan like a bitch in heat but I do know I don’t want him on Alicent’s side because Bennard put him there in his blatant quest to usurp the North. That sounds like a recipe for a personal meeting with Roddy the Ruin. Bennard may have done his best to get the Dustins on our side but Roddy was, and still is given they are both seventeen, Cregan’s childhood buddy, alongside Arra Norrey.

Hmmm, there is a thought. I’ll send one of the midwives to Winterfell with Forrest and see if I can’t have her wages paid for the next five years. His childhood love failing to die in childbirth will probably do much to soften his attitude towards me.

“And what would you have me do while you solve my problems for me?” snarled Bennard, having finally calmed down and retaken his seat.

“I’m glad you asked,” I said, then nodded to Joffrey.

“The Vulture King troubles Her Grace. She is willing to pay for his head.”

“A third Vulture hunt?” he asked. “You saw how the last ended.”

“Betrayed, we’re fairly sure,” I replied. He snorted.

“No shit. When I find out who…” He left the threat hanging.

“We’re no closer to pinpointing the exact culprit but I would advise trusting none of the Stony Dornish on this next hunt,” said Joffrey and Bennard huffed again.

“And what men do I hunt Walter Wyl with? Borros will lend me some, sure but I need every Northerner that settled my lands else I’ll be dead by sundown,” he groused.

“We have volunteers,” said Laenor. “Men who are willing to fight with you in return for land in the lands of Red Wolf’s Hold.”

“Not Northerners though,” he sniffed. I shook my head at the same time Laenor did.

“Riverlanders, Crownlanders and few from Driftmark and Dragonstone,” he explained. Unmentioned were the few spies Joffrey would be sending along in their number. Bennard must have realised we had him because he seemed to deflate soon after, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“I dislike this,” he said. “You play with my goodfather’s life and send me to chase pests instead.”

“There is no playing,” I insisted gravely. “You are a valued ally and I do not wish to see you harmed.”

It was nice that his past plots had so fooled him on this occasion. Yet, as always, I could not take all the credit. I might have come up with the bare bones of the plan but it had been Joffrey and Laena that had helped me hammer out the strategy we had used to so neatly force him to follow our lead.

Had I attempted to do it alone, he would no doubt be boarding a ship north already, smug in the knowledge I would follow him.

“I will abide by your decision for now, Your Grace,” he said, giving in after seeing no way out without exposing his true goal so blatantly. “But should your man fail…”

Well, we’ll deal with that when it happens.


	146. Flash Point - Chapter 122

“… and so they rode off into the sunset,” I intoned, gravely as a small crowd of sleepy children watched me, “ready to face their next adventure, together.”

The nice romantic ending would have gone better had Aemma not fallen asleep a small while ago. I smiled as Sera scooped her up, barely hiding her own smile. She mumbled nonsensically and curled into Sera’s arms and my smile widened.

“So they will go to Dorne next?” asked Aliandra, sounding dubious. I would have to question Laena to get the details right, no doubt she would be quick to pull apart any inaccuracies that Ser Jason and his squire, who was secretly a Princess called Daenerys, came across in their journey to pursue the evil Prince Maegor, who had kidnapped Princess Daenerys’ sister in a plot to steal the throne.

Okay, it had started as a blatant rip off of Dunk and Egg and… evolved from there somewhat. Firstly, Jocelyn, backed by Alysanne, had insisted Egg be a girl. Further changes had come along in the demand that there should be a bad guy and a princess to rescue from Jeyne, Rhaena and Alys… there was even a swashbuckling pirate the two ran into on occasion, a demand Lucerys had pushed for.

The result was something slightly akin to an old nineties fantasy television shows with Ser Jason and Princess Daenerys slowly falling in love at Aemma’s insistent demand, as they pursued Maegor across Westeros seeking the return of Daenerys’ sister, Elaena, and helped those they met along the way.

At least Aemon, Rolph and Aliandra weren’t set on changing the story and seemed happy with how it was. I suspected my son was just happy I described the beautiful landscapes and characters so well, Rolph… well, I think Rolph had decided Ser Jason was his new role model in life and Jocelyn was his Princess Daenerys, and as for Aliandra… I wasn’t sure if she wanted changes or not, she had never mentioned anything.

I admit, this plot line was mainly for her. Then, she might find a character she likes, or would like to see in the later stories.

“Yes!” I said happily. “Where Maegor seeks to hide with Elaena in the Red Mountains, so Ser Jason and Princess Daenerys will need to treat with the Princess of Dorne-”

“You needn’t treat me like a child,” she interrupted, voice full of frustration.

“And you needn’t be such a pill about it,” snarled Luke, clambering to his feet before I could forestall the coming argument. “She only wants to be nice to you, not that you deserve it!”

Aliandra’s eyes blazed with fire.

“Enough!” I called and both of their heads whipped towards me. “Stand in the corner and face the wall both of you!”

They did not move.

“Now!” Then they did, trudging off. I turned my attention to the other children, who looked more upset now than the sleepy they had been before. I bid Rolph, Jeyne and Aly goodnight, both girls shooting worried looks at Aliandra’s back before they left, Rolph merely looking worried.

Once they were gone, I drew Jocelyn and Alys close.

“You won’t punish Ali, will you Mama?” asked Alys, voice plaintive. “I don’t think you should send Ser Jason to Dorne. Not until Ali has been.”

I sighed, internally. That was a good point from my ten year old daughter that I had somehow missed. 

“I will take that into account,” I told her and I felt her relax a little in my arms. “Now, go to sleep. I love you both.”

They left, giggling amongst themselves and my son stepped forth, looking unsure. I dropped a kiss to his cheek.

“Any insights for me that I am blind to?” I asked and he gave me a broad smile.

“No,” he chirped. “Only that if they aren’t going to Dorne I need to know where they are going so I can draw them.”

“I will let you know,” I told him, privately wondering if he wasn’t just angling for spoilers. “Now, off you go. I love you.”

Rhaena accepted my hugs and kisses with a giggle and tight hug of her own in turn, much more demonstrative with affection now she felt secure in her mother’s return.

“Ali was being mean to you, Auntie Rhae,” whispered Rhaena into my ear. “Don’t punish Luke for defending you.”

I sent her off with goodbyes and ‘I love you’s under Septa Leyla’s supervision and turned my attention to the two left. I could see both had their fists clenched and I knew from long experience Aliandra only bowed her head like that when fighting tears. I sighed and called Luke over to me.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he said as he reached me. “I promised Mama I would stop yelling indoors.”

“And stop calling people names, I would warrant.” Luke picked up bad language like it was a personal hobby. Pill may be a mild insult but it didn’t mean I wanted him yelling it and neither did Laena.

“I am sorry, Ali,” he said, as if the very apology pained him. He was glaring at the back of her head. I hoped that time would see them grow closer because as it stood now, their marriage would not be a happy one at all. Aliandra loathed him because he was another symbol of what her life had become and Luke loathed her because he’d tried to be friendly and been rejected in turn.

A trait that his true father shared.

“Go and tell Septa Leyla that you are to write twenty lines tomorrow about bad language and shouting,” I said solemnly and he winced. Luke did not like lines… or sitting still. He was a bit like Jocelyn in that regard, which was probably why the two got along so well. Both wanted to be out in the air and charging about or hitting one another with sticks…

“Yes, Auntie Rhae,” he sighed eventually. I dropped a kiss to his forehead and sent him on his way.

“Aliandra.” She was crying when she trooped over although she was trying her best to hide it. I pretended not to notice her subtle attempts to wipe away her tears as they came.

“If you disagree with the story, just let me know,” I said gently. She said nothing, scowling at the carpet instead. “I only wished for you to enjoy the story as well-”

“It’s for children and I am not a child,” she said, interrupting me.

“You are three and ten,” I pointed out and she frowned. “You are not an adult. Yet you are right.”

Her head jerked up and she stared at me through wide eyes.

“You do not have to sit and listen to them every night. You are old enough to decide your own routine, I think.”

“And I can go to bed when I want?” she asked. “And I don’t have to come see you every evening?”

“If you do not want to, no,” I replied, trying to cover up how much that hurt. I was a jailer, I reminded myself, not her mother. She has one of those. “And I will have a sign made for your door… if you hang it on the handle, no one will enter.”

“Really?” she breathed, smiling widely.

“But,” I said and her smile flickered slightly. “If you don’t let the maids in on a regular basis, you must keep it clean yourself.”

“I can keep it clean!” she protested.

“And can you wash your own sheets? Clean your own clothes?” She deflated a little. “I thought not. Just do not let it become out of hand. It is a privilege and privilege-”

“…comes with responsibility,” she finished, her features going serious. “I know.”

“Good,” I said. “Now, off you go. I will instruct the servants on the change tomorrow.”

She was almost out the door before she darted back, throwing a quick hug around my waist and murmuring a thanks before running off once more. I did not want to linger in the room for a long time, thinking on Aliandra’s behaviour, so instead I made my way downstairs to discover a rather relaxed atmosphere now that Bennard was long gone and Laena, Laenor and Joffrey had broken open the wine. All three were drinking together and sitting in front of the fire, basking in its warmth.

Even if it had not healed all ills, the talk Laenor had finally had with Laena had done some good at least. I dropped into my lover’s lap and buried my face in the crook of her neck.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, rubbing circles about my lower back.

“Children,” I mumbled. “Luke is doing lines tomorrow.”

“What did he do?” she sighed. 

“Shouting… and he called Aliandra a pill.”

“Sounds like Luke,” laughed Laenor and was rewarded with what sounded like a shove from Joffrey given Laenor let out a small squeak of indignation a moment later. “Joff, you spilt my wine!”

I decided, as Laena began giggling at her brother’s misfortune, to explain my somewhat off the cuff decision regarding Aliandra tomorrow, when they weren’t in such moods.

“It’s what you deserve,” deadpanned my loyal spymaster, to Laena’s mirth and Laenor sputtered in indignation once more. I let myself enjoy the warmth of her embrace, driving away the stress of Bennard being here and the murky feeling of shame that occasionally ambushed me when dealing with Aliandra. I felt her kiss the top of my head.

“What did Aliandra do to warrant being shouted at anyway?” asked Laenor. I groaned.

“She found my blatant pandering too patronising and Luke rushed to my defence.”

“Only because he benefits from your pandering. Is his character not a younger version of father?” asked Laenor and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“It’s his goal in life,” I mumbled into Laena’s shoulder. “He wants to be your father.”

“There are worse things to aspire to be,” said Joffrey, sounding a touch offended. “A dashing adventurer who always gets the girl and saves the day is not a poor role model.”

“Quite,” said Laena primly. “Besides, your daughters insisted on princesses and an evil prince.”

“That was your daughter too!” 

“Why are you even arguing about this?” I asked, pulling my head from Laena’s shoulder. She shrugged and pulled me close for a quick kiss. She was still too thin, was the irreverent thought that floated through my head.

“It is the nature of children to bicker, Your Grace,” teased Joffrey. 

“See if I grace your bed tonight, Joff,” grumbled Laenor as Laena gaped at her husband in mock offence.

“You should be gracing your wife’s anyway,” said Joffrey ruefully. “Did we not decide on another little one?”

“We did,” I said, suddenly nervous at the thought. From the look of it, I wasn’t the only one as Laenor hid his face inside his wine glass, sipping at the dregs in the cup.

“There is no time like the present to start then, is there?” asked Laena, sounding anxious. “Unless you have changed your mind?”

“I have not!” I was quick to assure them all as Laenor glanced up in alarm. “I am still willing. I just did not expect the suggestion.”

“I find it more amusing that it should be our lovers that push us together,” said Laenor, smiling once more, although his own nerves still shone through. “Should they not be trying to tempt us from our marriage bed and our duty?”

I giggled as both Laena and Joffrey coloured in embarrassment.

“Perhaps they want a quiet night to themselves?” I asked back, taking on a teasing tone. “We are the younger ones after all, perhaps they simply can not keep up with us these days?”

“Oh! How cruel we have been Rhaenyra! We should leave them to their much needed rest, else they’ll never stop complaining about their afflic-ugh!”

The second pillow Laena threw hit me point blank in the back of the head, toppling me out of her lap and into a giggling mess on the floor. 

“You are not as funny as you think you are,” she said dryly, although I wasn’t sure which one of us she was addressing. Possibly both of us.

“And I’m only three months the elder, Laenor,” said Joffrey, sounding faintly offended as his lover cackled away at the reaction his joke had produced. I felt something ease within me as I stood, still giggling to myself. Laenor managed to bring himself under control, by degrees, as both Joffrey and Laena glowered at him.

I wasn’t sure why he was getting the blame… I was the one who had started the whole matter. When his laughter became an almost gurgle I held out my hand and he took it and pulled himself to his feet, impish grin still in place.

“What do you say, Princess?” he asked. “Shall we leave them to their medicinal teas and early nights?”

“Yes, let’s. We wouldn’t want them to break a hip now, would we?” He laughed again and waited until we were out into the hall and safe from any thrown projectiles to drop a kiss to my lips, surprising me.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. “Thank you.”


	147. Flash Point - Chapter 123

“You have thoroughly read everything Joffrey has given you?” I asked. The earnest face of Forrest Frey nodded back me, his face a pleased smile. He was a sweet man at heart and had Laenor not been available I would have preferred him over men like Tyland Lannister and others of his ilk.

I wouldn't have had a choice, of course, but it was nice to imagine a scenario where that half forgotten trip to the Trident had seen me married to a genuinely nice man who respected and loved his wife even though he knew she could not love him back, not in the way he wanted, anyway.

“Yes, Your Grace. I will send a raven when I reach White Harbor letting you know of any further information I require,” he promised.

“Then I shall leave you to your wife, Ser Forrest.” Sab hardly waited for me to gracefully retreat before she swept forward and pulled her husband into a rough hug. He grinned, delighted, and wrapped his arms around her in turn.

“It will be fine, Sabitha,” he assured her in amused tones. “I have a dragon merely a raven away.”

“Be assured,” said Joffrey, “That should Cregan take action against your husband, Lady Sabitha, he will have every dragon we can send bearing down upon him.”

“Come back to me, you fool,” she muttered to him, her voice thick with emotion. “I will not raise Manfryd and Olyvar without their father.”

“You will,” he said, with that boyish grin again. “And they shall be finer sons than I have a right to because they have you as their mother.”

She sent him off to his ship after punching his arm. I did not miss the constipated look Bennard watched the ship begin its journey with, nor the way he all but stormed back to the inn without speaking to any of my party. He was nervous, according to Joffrey’s spies. He knew there was little chance of me playing his game now that we had so effectively barred him from pulling our strings.

He’d only been here a week and yet I was already tired of him. He was like a constant storm cloud marring the otherwise perfect weather we’d been having recently. Weather that made me want to spend my time with friends, my children and my extended family. I wanted to make a new babe with Laenor, help Helaena through her own pregnancy and woo my supporters and tempt new ones to me… I did not want to deal with a scowling Northman.

“Who is watching the children today?” Sab asked as we rode back to the manse. I had already made a brief appearance in Court and I was looking forward to a nice day of relaxing. Well, when the dark stormcloud of Falena Waynwood was not on the horizon, anyway.

“Septa Leyla,” I answered. 

“So we might yet see Laena at our little gathering?” asked Sab.

“With Falena there?” I asked, more bemused at the fact she’d even asked when she was well aware of Laena and Fal’s little feud.. Laena had left early today, citing another make-up session with Laenor. I’d tried to question her over it but she had been evasive enough I’d dropped it after a while.

Things had gotten better recently, I really hoped they didn’t argue themselves into another rut somehow.

“You know I prefer her over Falena,” she groused, but ruined the effect by smiling straight afterwards.

“You know I do too,” I replied. I knew Sab knew about us but I was unsure how much Laena had shared with her when it came to their gossip sessions. 

“So we have her holiness to look forward to today,” sighed Sab, aggrieved. “Is it too late to sign up to Forrest’s northern convoy? Or convert to the worship of the Old Gods?”

“Little Alysanne is the one to talk to about that,” I japed. “She thinks I do not know her dedication has more to do with her naps in the Godswood.”

Sab snickered in amusement and I turned to find Joffrey grinning as well.

“I’m not sure it’s the approved method of worship,” I continued.

“But Mother’s Mercy, she doesn’t have her own personal Falena telling her how to do it properly!” cackled Sab.

“Perhaps we could send for one,” said Joffrey solemnly. “Surely we are remiss in our duties if we let instruction in religion slide.”

Sab nearly fell from her horse as we dismounted, too busy giggling at the thought, I supposed.

“We are being cruel,” I pointed out, feeling vaguely disloyal. “She is overbearing because she loves us, in her own way.”

“That’s true,” said Joffrey, well aware of the fact that she knew of him and Laenor and had said nothing regarding it. “But none of your other ladies so flatly refuse to serve with Laena.”

“Not even Marya,” said Sab. “And she’s just as preachy.”

“Hush,” I said as we made our way into the manse. Joffrey bid us goodbye soon enough, having paperwork and reports to attend too while Sab and I made our way to the garden. Sure enough, there were my ladies, minus Laena, and I was struck with such nostalgia I was forced to pause.

“I miss Alys.” It was all I could think when my legs refused to carry me further.

“I never met her,” said Sab gently. “But if she was anything like Sera describes her, I wish I had done.”

I was saved from ruminating on just how deep Sab’s crush had gotten by Maris noticing us and calling us over. It was enough to get my legs moving once more and I was soon sat on the blanket they had laid out. Perhaps I should have been able to predict Maris bringing cards. Ten years and marriage had not dulled her cunning in that regard, although we strictly no longer played for money these days.

“Ah, our Princess and her loyal knight!” Maris laughed as Sab dropped to her knees as well, eyeing the cards Maris was dealing with trepidation. “Did you see off Ser Forrest? Tell me, did our stoic Lady Frey shed a tear or two?” 

“She wept like a babe, Maris,” I joked, taking my cards from her and examining the others. Marya had her look of fond indulgence, Falena her look of vague amusement and Sera looked as if the idea of Sabitha of all people weeping was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

“I can see that,” said Falena. “She strikes me as the type to weep when separated from Ser Forrest.”

“I am being mocked, my Princess, what is it you call that? A hostile work environment?”

“Indeed,” I replied. “Be careful, Falena, or HR will need to speak with you.”

She snorted.

“If we even had a… HR, I would have liked to have spoken with them long ago,” she sniffed, before smiling a little more genuinely. “In truth, I hope Ser Forrest returns home soon and whole, Sabitha.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling genuinely, if looking a little puzzled. Sabitha did not often see this side of Falena. She saw the stubborn woman who refused to be in the same room as her friend when no one else had such a pronounced reaction far more often.

“How are little Alys and Jocelyn getting along in their flying lessons?” asked Marya, changing the subject. “Alys had a lot to say on the matter.”

“I bet she did,” laughed Sera. “She ended up taking them with Laena of all people.”

“And what does that mean?” asked Falena, too fast and in a strangely neutral tone.

“That our good Lady Velaryon takes it about as seriously as most men take training a squire. She’s had Alys learning about diet plans and riding gear more than the poor girl has actually flown her mount,” came Sabitha’s reply.

“It’s true,” I replied. “I’m the one that fields her complaints.”

I watched as Falena relaxed slightly and resolved to speak with Patrek on the matter next time I ran into him. She could not keep assuming the worst in every given situation when it came to Laena, people would soon notice and it would only further add fuel to the flames of rumour. The Septon and I did not speak enough, he was too busy with his Sept and his school, and I had let this odd not-quite feud go on far too long.

“Poor Alys. And Jocelyn?” asked Sera.

“Well enough. Morrigan grew with her so it’s an easier job to teach her. She’s responding well enough to the whip but both still have a long way to go.”

“Well,” said Maris. “That is the nature of things, is it not? Practice, practice, practice!”

“Indeed. Dedication has its own rewards,” said Falena with a smile.

“So I would encourage you all to pick up the cards and play so that one day you may challenge my skill,” said Maris happily.

“At cheating,” whispered Sera in a manner so that we could all hear it.

“What was that?” called Maris, eyes glittering.

“She said, Lady Strong,” drawled a familiar voice from behind us, “that we might all hope to one day challenge your skill at cheating.”

Sabitha wheezed in shock as we turned to find Laena approaching, a grin on her face for all that she was dressed in her padded gear still and looking fresh from the training yard. She dropped down next to me and I wrinkled my nose. She had not bathed, that was for certain.

“Have you got anything to drink?” she asked, pulling her gloves free. “I’m parched.”

“I thought you were spending the day with Laenor,” I said, keeping one eye on her and one eye on Falena as Sera poured her some juice. Fal had gone pale with the realisation she had no polite escape from the forced socialisation with my dear goodsister, and judging by the way Marya had just laid a hand on her shoulder, I was willing to bet Lady Hastwyck had just ended any rude ways to escape as well.

“I was intending to, but he went off to sulk after I knocked him into the dirt!” she crowed, far too pleased with herself.

“And you came to tell us all about it before bathing?” I asked and she blushed a pretty red.

“It is an achievement for her,” said Marya and then blushed the same colour Laena had gone when we all turned to her in surprise. “Byren told me. Laenor usually wins but the bouts grow ever closer.”

“Well then” I said turning back. “I will think of some way to reward you later. After you have bathed.”

“And how long will you be out here? I want to join in, you know?” My ladies snickered as Laena pouted, her own violet eyes flickering towards Fal who looked torn between amusement and being tense.

“I offered to let you join this morning,” I told her mildly. “Besides, Sab and I have only just arrived. Go take your bath, I swear we shall all be here when you return.”

In Falena’s defence, she waited until Laena had disappeared inside the manse before rising to her feet. Or trying to, anyway, Marya was quick to pull her back down.

“Come on Fal, when was the last time we were all together?” she asked.

“We have been planning this for a while and we do have a meal planned,” said Sera, smiling. It was a nervous smile though. You would have to be blind not to pick up on the poor relations between the two.

“Very well,” she sighed. “I will remain.”

“We have spoken about this,” I reminded her, accepting a glass of juice from Maris. “Multiple times as I recall.”

“Don’t spoil it now,” cried Sera. “Fal will stay!”

Falena Waynwood’s eyes did not leave mine until Maris forcibly parked herself in between us.

“What I want to know is how the children have been silent for so long? Should we not invite them to come and play with us?” A good suggestion, I thought with a sigh, although my ‘brood’ and my ladies children all at once…

Alas, nobody else piped up any objections and soon the garden was awash with our children. Sixteen children… although they all seemed content to play and leave the adults to their boring talking as they ran Septa Leyla and themselves ragged. Even Aliandra’s mood had evidently improved as she chased Alysanne about for something the girl had said in jest.

“Do you not feel the urge, Fal?” asked Marya as her own son, Edmund, successfully tagged Manfryd Frey, a boy twice his age and size.

“Not especially,” she replied. “I am content with my service to Rhaenyra… and to the Faith.”

I let them chat as I watched the children play. There were the two Frey boys of course, they both resembled their father and thankfully he was a far cry from the ‘weasels’ that Walder Frey would make of his House. Manfryd was ten and Olyvar was seven. Two boys for the spare, it was enough for Sab and enough for Forrest too.

Maris had nearly caught up to me. She had gone into her marriage terrified she would not birth a child, that she would suffer as Laena had, that she had fought against the Hand himself so hard only to condemn Harwin to a childless marriage… and promptly popped out three Strong boys; Joffrey, Osmund and Walter who were eight, seven and five respectively.

The last was Marya’s boy, Edmund. Helaena’s extended stay in King’s Landing as war with Dorne raged on saw her sworn sword in my proximity a hell of a lot more than he had ever been before and he had finally noticed Marya’s interest in him. It had been a sweet thing, to see her marry for love. She had given him a son too and wished to give him more, although Helaena was the preventive issue there. The five year old Edmund was hardly going to get more siblings with my sister haring about Westeros.

“Well,” I said, as I spotted Laena approaching once more. “Laenor and I are trying for another.”

At least the baby talk would keep Fal and Laena occupied. I hope she appreciates my sacrifice.


	148. Flash Point - Chapter 124

“I’m considering pushing him down the stairs and having done with it,” groused Maris. “The man is infuriatingly hard to pin down.”

“I have noted as such as well, Rhaenyra,” said Corlys. My goodfather had been thrilled to learn we had taken his advice and started trying for a child once more. Weirdly thrilled, actually. It must have been weighing on his mind for quite some time. I had been expecting him to nod in that regal way of his and be on his way as if we had done nothing more than inform him of the weather, and yet he’d sighed in relief and thrown his arms about his son happily.

“So we are unable to pinpoint exactly what he is up to?” I asked, frustration evident in my voice.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” sneered Maris. “He’ll be jumping to obey Her Grace like the good dog he is.”

“If he is hers in truth I would be surprised,” said Joffrey. Maris rolled her eyes.

“So you have said before, yet we have seen little evidence of this,” she replied. “He strikes at the Blacks when he can, he chases off those we try to tempt in and he makes examples out of lords when she snaps her fingers.”

“Yet he likely killed her father,” said Joffrey. “I doubt even Alicent would order that.”

“Never underestimate her type,” said Corlys, solemnly. “She has shown there are few depths she will not sink to in order to put Aegon on the Throne.”

“But the fact remains we have no clue of his day to day operations,” I pointed out after we were silent for a moment. “We have no clue if he intends some grand scheme or whether he is barely keeping afloat.”

“I’m inclined to think that playing the role of lapdog is keeping him busy… that and his official duties, of course.” Joffrey was still somewhat miffed I had refused to put his name forth after Jaremy’s death. Yet as I had explained then, to reveal his talent was to ensure Alicent would seek to kill him. 

“But why?” I asked, rubbing at my face and grimacing when I managed to hit myself with the prosthetic. “Why play the lap dog so ardently?”

“Because he has something planned later,” said Corlys. “And he needs Alicent’s trust and cooperation.”

“His true goal likely relates to myself,” Joffrey told us. “Although I confess myself at a loss at what he could want.”

“I still say we ought to look into Alys’ death again,” mumbled Maris. “You haven’t seen him with his family. He hates them. He can barely hide it.”

I squirmed in my seat. The idea of Larys being responsible for Alys’ death… I had often ruminated it could have been him, that he had accidentally poisoned his sister in an attempt on me and yet Maris… Maris was adamant that if it had been him, it would not have been accidental.

“If he so hates you all, why work to help you marry Harwin?” Corlys asked. There was little judgement in his tone, I suspect she had him half convinced, but he was a sceptic at heart.

“Because he thought I was barren. Then he could kill Harwin at his leisure and seize Harrenhal legally,” Maris replied as if it were obvious truth and not mere speculation.

“And when you started having sons?” I asked dryly.

“Our little alliance ended. I have told you all this before.”

“It is a hard thing to swallow,” said Joffrey. “That a man could do such a thing to his family. It would be like… hating father or seeking to kill Luce and Martyn…”

“And I will say what I always say,” she said, frustrated, as I tried to wrap my head around the idea of Larys killing Alys and seeking to kill Harwin. It was hard… yet hadn’t he been suspected in Harwin and Lyonel’s canon deaths? It all seemed so far away… so hard to grasp.

“This is getting us nowhere,” I finally said. “Joffrey, have some more men set on Maris’ sons. If Larys is a kinslayer, he will want to kill them as a priority.”

Maris shuddered and Joffrey nodded, his hazel eyes serious. I turned to Corlys, who had sat back in his chair, evidently satisfied with the move.

“Have we any news from the east yet?” I asked. His violet eyes darkened and he sighed, running his hand through his hair. I hated moments like this, moments when he truly looked his age. It seemed wrong, somehow, for him to seem so frail.

“No. I was not expecting anything solid yet, in truth, but I expected… something,” he said. “None gossip more than sailors, Rhaenyra, if Daemon were in Qarth then we should know about it already.”

“Laena says she spoke to people who saw the dragons, though,” said Joffrey. “And she did not think they were lying. They seemed genuinely afraid.”

“We can not go to my father with only one report, though,” I explained. “He will want details… especially if there is a second dragon involved.”

“Where would he get one?” asked Maris. “I admit my knowledge is mostly second hand but… you hardly find them just lying about.”

“He had eggs,” said Corlys. “Viserys made him give them up after the whole debacle with Mysaria, but we all know Daemon, he is the type to keep some behind.”

“To never let go of a potential tool,” I spat, the old hate taking me almost by surprise.

“Then we are going in circles once more,” said Joffrey. “On both the matter of Larys and your uncle.”

“We can not tell father until we know more,” I insisted and Corlys nodded.

“And neither the King or the Hand will hear complaints about Larys without proof,” sighed Maris.

“With no new information to truly discuss on either matter…” Joffrey trailed off but we got his message. Corlys and Maris rose all at once.

“I shall see if I can not win more stories of Larys from Harwin and Sera,” said Maris, giving me a mock bow before leaving. Corlys did not offer any more solutions, merely giving us both a grave nod and disappearing. I leaned back in my chair and groaned in annoyance.

“Can you not give me good news?” I asked plaintively.

“I was saving my good news for the family meeting,” said Joffrey sounding amused. My eyes snapped to his.

“Tell me you aren’t lying? Tell me there is good news?” I asked and he shrugged.

“It is promising news,” he told me, voice hesitant. “Lady Tyrell has agreed to a meeting between little Lyonel and Aemma the next time she can bring him to the capital.”

That was… more than promising, I thought as relief and shame fought for dominance in my gut. The Tyrells may not be the rulers of the Reach that they were in the time of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon but they still commanded respect. Them coming down on my side would give me more ways to check Hightower power in the Reach…

“Truly,” I breathed, closing my eyes for a moment.

“She is also considering a Florent betrothal as well,” he reminded me dryly.

“What is a Florent to a Princess?” I asked tartly and he chuckled again. Then he frowned.

“Speaking of which… come in Aemma!” he called and sure enough, the door was pushed open and my youngest put her head around the door.

“Hello,” she said upon seeing us. “I was looking for Mama.”

“You have found me, little one,” I said, patting my lap. She trotted over and seated herself u[pon my knee, putting up with my cuddles and kisses with a solemn air. I sighed.

“What has happened?” I asked. “You are not usually so quiet.”

“I am very quiet,” she said, offended. 

“True,” I conceded. “Then may I rephrase my question? You are not usually so grim.”

She frowned as she thought that over and my heart sunk further. Had she heard Joffrey and me talking? The door to his office was thick and it was easy to see if anyone was standing close enough to listen in due to the shadow they cast.

“Auntie Helaena visited while you were talking,” she told me. “But she’s gone now.”

“Oh,” was all I could say to that. 

“She said she was here to talk to Alys but Alys said no and hid in her rooms.” My gaze travelled to Joffrey, who just looked tired. “So Auntie Helaena went home but she told me to say hello to you for her!”

“I see,” I said stiffly as she wriggled about on my lap happily.

“She was telling me lots of fun things… and stories. Don’t be sad, Mama, but Auntie Helaena is as good as telling stories as you are.”

I smiled at that and Aemma smiled back.

“She learnt from the best,” I said and Aemma giggled.

“I will see if I can’t have some juice sent down,” said Joffrey, standing up and making his way to the door. I frowned. He was slow today and leaning on his stick more heavily than I would have expected. Aemma hopped off of my lap and scrambled to open the door for him. He beamed at her before disappearing. She closed the door after and made her way over, her smile having faded a great deal.

“And now you are grim once more,” I chuckled, trying to hide how nervous her behaviour made me. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, really,” she said, looking suddenly nervous. “Mama, I am six now.”

“Yes, you are.” I said, a pit of dread opening up in my stomach. She was not the nervous type, she wouldn’t last as Rhaena’s friend if she was given Laena’s daughter was bossy at best and an absolute horror at worst. Yet here my daughter was, maintaining eye contact with me and looking as if she were on the verge of throwing up. Then she took another deep breath and clenched her hands, jaw set in determination.

“Aunt Helaena tamed Morghul when she was six-”

“No.” The volume of my voice surprised even me but Aemma was completely undeterred by my refusal, although she did take another deep breath.

“Mama,” she said, as if I was the unreasonable one. “Grandpapa always said six for the Dragonpit and six and ten for the Dragonmont.”

“I am not Grandpapa,” I told her, voice stern. “And I say, no Dragonpit or Dragonmont until I say so.”

“And when will that be?” she asked, looking frustrated. “Alys is allowed a dragon!”

“Alys broke the rules! And she is being punished!” I cried.

“But she is allowed it!” Aemma protested. “And you’d let Aemon go to the Dragonpit!”

“He is eight! Besides, Aemon has never brought up such a desire to me,” I told her. “He is content to wait until he is six and ten.”

“But I’m not,” she whined. “I want to fly!”

“You may fly all you wish on Syrax,” I said, wincing internally as frustrated tears began gathering in the corner of her eyes. “Aemma, please-”

She shook her head violently.

“I will be good! I promise! I will look after her and care for her! I will fly her everyday and learn all the lessons you want me to!” When I was speechless she forged onward. “I will even learn from Auntie Laena! Or Grandmama Rhaenys!”

Outright refusal was not going to work, I realised. She wanted this dragon too badly and saying no was only making her more desperate to convince me to let her try for one… I thought of the little hatchlings in the pit, of the heat and the danger… my stomach turned and I closed my eyes as visions of her injured, or worse, danced across them.

I thought of myself, aged seven, trekking across that mountain looking desperately for Silverwing. If I had known what trouble it would cause, would I still have done it? I had no doubt Aemma would bring the matter up if we were to keep arguing.

I ran my hand over my face and sighed heavily.

“I will speak to your father,” I decided finally. “And we shall decide together.”

I watched as she clasped her hands together in glee before rushing forward and throwing her arms around my neck.

“Thank you Mama! I promise I will be good!” I rubbed her back as she did her best to cause me physical pain with her squeezing.

“It’s not a yes,” I protested. 

She drew back, smiling broadly. “But it isn’t a no!”

“It depends on what your father says,” I warned, privately adding that it would have to be a convincing argument as I still had no intention of letting her have one.

“Papa will say yes,” she said with all the confidence of a six year old that had her father wrapped around her finger. Yet this was not a new pony or a trip to see Hull.

“We will see.”


	149. Flash Point - Chapter 125

Suffice to say, my foolproof plan of ‘your father says no’ had failed.

Laenor had not seen the problem in sending our daughter into the Dragonpit. He had even brought Laena in on the topic, a move that was cheating if anything was. I did not care how ‘safe’ the pit dragons were, they were still dragons at the end of the day. 

Our argument had become somewhat loud. By the end, we had agreed to disagree. Laenor had stated that he would support me keeping her from the Dragonpit but he wouldn’t pretend he had been against it.

Aemma had been furious with me. Even now, as the litter bore us through the streets of King’s Landing, she cast angry glances at me, looking away quickly if she noticed my gaze. I sighed and redirected my attention through the gauzy curtain that separated me from King’s Landing proper. Around us, the city was alive. The people bustled to and fro from market stalls, shops and peddlers. I could hear laughter from the taverns and inns, the sound of metal on metal from the Street of Steel and so much more besides.

I could see, in my mind’s eye, the city laid out below me. Each major thoroughfare alive with traffic, the bustling streets… the city was not unlike a living creature. If the roads were its veins and the Keep its heart then the sheer amount of money that passed through the city on a daily basis was most assuredly its blood.

“Do you think Septon Patrek might allow me to see some of the art not available to the public?” enquired Aemon, glancing between his younger sister and me. I pulled my attention away from the streets and back to my children. He looked worried, I realised. Was this his attempt at playing peacekeeper?

“I sent word ahead,” I told him. “Septon Patrek has arranged for you to have quite the extensive tour.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “We can go anywhere?”

“As long as you are supervised, yes.” Even Aemma looked cautiously excited although she was trying to hide it with sulky features. Yet she was six and definitely unable to hide the glimmer of interest I saw in her eyes or the slight curve of her lip that she couldn’t quite banish.

“I trust you will behave,” I told them wryly. Aemon nodded eagerly.

“We shall, mama. Do not worry,” he told me, his solemn look breaking through for a moment. Then he grinned again. 

“I do not worry about you two,” I chuckled. “Now if it were your sisters…”

He giggled and Aemma smiled. There was no way Jocelyn or Alys would enjoy a trip to the Great Sept… or even sit still for most of it. Alys would complain endlessly that she was bored and Jocelyn would want to run everywhere and I could forget any semblance of volume control.

The Great Sept was still much the same, I reflected as we reached it and climbed out, despite its change in ownership. It certainly was no Great Sept of Baelor, that was for sure. It was made of a white stone that had turned grey over the years and was fairly standardly built, as Septs went, if only on a much larger scale.

If I were to encourage Septon Patrek further as Queen, perhaps it would be worth thinking of constructing the Great Sept here. Oh, but what to call it? It could not be the Great Sept of Baelor… and the Great Sept of Rhaenyra did not have quite the same ring to it. I didn’t think too long on it because Aemon and Aemma were already meandering through the great oaken doors. I followed, trailed as always by my guard and Ser Erryk, who was on duty today.

My men, although they wore no outward sign of allegiance to me, stood ever ready at the doors, watching as the crowd moved around them. Nearby, Gold Cloaks also watched the crowd. Much less hostile to Patrek’s followers after I’d had reason to have a few pointed words with Harwin.

Although it was probably Maris clouting him that had actually seen him look on Patrek with kindness rather than suspicion. It honestly boggled the mind as to how she put up with him… or how their relationship even worked.

Even before Patrek had seized the Sept, I had not been here often. I attended the Sept in the Red Keep every seventh day, like the good follower of the Faith I was, as the Great Sept was hardly deemed ‘fancy’ enough for royalty. Perhaps the Sept of Remembrance had once been, but the royal family now stuck close to the Keep. I admit to giving thought to flouting tradition and attending here instead. Patrek’s sermons were blazing denouncements of the Faith and stirring calls to be better through the Seven… much more exciting than listening to an hour of Eustace’s droning on and on.

The political backlash was not worth it though, not yet. The High Septon, through his puppet Eustace, was desperately pushing for father to seize the Sept back with force. Yet my father had little interest in the internal squabbles of the Faith, especially since one side was so publicly linked with me and very popular besides.

“Your Grace.” Speak of the Devil…

“Septon Patrek,” I said warmly as he bowed. “Thank you for seeing me today.”

“It is no problem,” he replied. Then he turned to Aemon and Aemma who were staring at him in barely disguised awe. I suppose if you were used to Eustace, Patrek made quite the impressive figure. His ginger hair had long since faded to grey, although he dressed much more respectively there days, in pure white robes with no finery or trimmings. He lacked Eustace’s ruddy features, annoying and slightly gross wheeze and his rotund form. “I suppose this is Prince Aemon and Princess Aemma. May the Seven be always in your thoughts.”

He bowed and they managed their own bow and curtsey back, not too clumsy, I noted with approval. Patrek merely laughed in delight.

“I have arranged for Septon Bede to take you both on a tour of the Sept,” he said, in his kindly old man voice. He gestured to an older man, who gave us a respectable bow in turn. “And yes, I have been sure to include the galleries we inherited.”

I smiled in amusement as Aemon’s mouth snapped shut.

“Go,” I said. “I have business with the good Septon.”

That was enough for them to flock to Bede, both of them ready with questions about the Sept, its history and how it had been to seize it from the Faith. Bede, for his part, remained stoic, answering their questions one at a time and not getting too overwhelmed by their rapid fire tangents and queries.

“Tell me, Your Grace, how is Septa Leyla performing in your service?” Leyla was not, officially, part of Patrek’s flock. She had trained in a Motherhouse in the Crownlands, one that still paid lip service to the Starry Sept. As royals, my children could not afford to lack an education on the Seven, which had put me in a quandary.

To accept Eustace’s nomination was to invite a spy into the heart of my household, to say nothing of what she could have filled the children’s ears with while I was unable to pay close attention. Leyla had been a comfortable fit between the two… and Eustace had still raged over the matter.

“Well enough,” I replied. “The children are well fond of her and she is very well informed.”

“I am glad.” I followed when he gestured to a more private area, where we could speak without the masses around us and our conversation audible to even the most incompetent spy.

“Joffrey tells me you’ve misplaced a few knights,” I observed once we were alone. 

“It is worrying. Their attacks escalated… and then stopped altogether.”

“Are we any closer to discovering their master?” I asked.

“No. Neither I, nor your man, were able to shed light on the matter. I worry for my flock here…” I grimaced at his tone.

“Ser Steffon says they were well-trained and certainly no mercenary hedge knights,” interjected Ser Erryk. I smiled ruefully. Ser Steffon had been overseeing some matter or other, I could not even remember what now. Yet he had saved Patrek’s life when those men had entered the newly seized Sept via tunnels and sought to end his life.

“No, we have noticed that also.” Septon Patrek examined me before continuing. “I would have theorised they were hired by some outraged lord who has now run out of funds but…”

“I apologise, Septon,” I said finally, after a beat of silence. “My information services are stretched thin. I can scarce keep up with her plots these days.”

He merely shrugged. Joffrey had approached Septon Patrek with the idea of spreading spies out amongst his Septons, to gather rumours and confessions. Patrek had been loudly and firmly opposed. Enough so that I had told Joffrey his spies were banned from impersonating any of the Faith from now on. 

“I feel as if I have been stalemated.” Frustration made me say it. “Daemon and Larys elude me and now these knights and their true master.”

“The Seven shall grant your victory over the unrighteous,” Septon Patrek intoned. “You face a monster who consorted with slavers, a man whose ambition drives him to corrupt those around him, and now men who would strike at our own fledgling movement, one that seeks to cleanse the Faith of corruption and halt its slow rot into decadence.”

“Your words cheer me, Septon. I will remember them,” I lied. He smiled warmly at me and I remembered yet another problem I needed to address. “Have you spoken with Lady Waynwood recently?”

“This is regarding Lady Velaryon.” I was kind of impressed there was no change of tone when he said her name.

“She still refuses to be in the same room as her. Is there nothing you can do?” He hummed in thought, bringing his hand up to rub at his mouth.

“I could speak with her,” he finally said. “Yet I fear my aid will not be as useful as you believe in this matter.”

“She is not a witch,” I lied again. “She’s hard-headed and difficult to deal with but she doesn’t murder small children or whatever it is witches do.”

“I confess myself unsure, beyond the tales designed to scare children,” chuckled Patrek. “And there is no specific text that bans the practice of magic within the Faith, merely the practises associated with it.”

“Practises?” I asked, frowning. 

“Blood magic, human sacrifice… that sort of thing,” he explained.

“I would be aware if one of my own ladies was sacrificing humans and performing blood-fuelled rituals,” I told him dryly.

“Indeed.” He was back to rubbing at his mouth in thought. “I will speak with her but I make no promises on the outcome of such a conversation.”

“My thanks, Septon Patrek.” He gave me a shallow bow and I hesitated. “She researches dragons. They are her greatest passion. If you ever wish to confirm that for yourself-”

“I am not here to judge dragons,” he replied quickly and I winced. He may not approve of the Doctrine of Exceptionalism but he damn well made a show of following it, despite my promise I was working to see it rendered obsolete. “Perhaps we should seek out the Prince and Princess?”

“To the art then,” I sighed, taking the hint. They were exactly where I thought I’d find them, pouring over a tapestry depicting Maegor’s burning of the Sept of Remembrance. I could hear Aemon enthusing about technique and colour choice from the next room over.

I said my goodbyes to Patrek and joined my children on their tour, taking pity on Bede by hurrying them along when they found something that absorbed them for longer than five minutes. Not that Bede seemed to need mercy, he seemed thrilled that they were interested. He seemed able to summon any given fact about a piece from memory alone… Patrek had chosen wisely when he’d made Bede the tour guide.

The sun was high in the sky when we left, Aemon and Aemma chatting happily about the grand sights they’d seen and all the interesting tidbits of history they’d learnt of. I’d have to let their tutors know of their ‘field trip’ so that they could give some kind of report on it.

“It is nice to see you enjoyed it,” I said as we closed in on the manse. 

“Yes! It was fun. We should go to more places like that,” said Aemon. Then he looked at Aemma and nudged her with his elbow.

“It was fun,” she admitted. “But I still want a dragon, mama, and I still haven’t forgiven you.”

Oh joy.


	150. Flash Point - Chapter 126

“I swear poor Aegon thought I was mad,” sighed Helaena, as I guffawed at her story, unladylike snorting and all. “He looked fit to cry and then I started crying… is it going to be like this the entire time?”

I managed to get myself under control and dabbed at the tears that threatened to fall as my little sister pouted away. Next to Helaena, Viserra peered at us both over her book as if she could not quite understand why Helaena absolutely losing it over an incorrectly flavoured pastry was hilarious to me.

“Oh… oh it absolutely is,” I replied. “I think my ladies seriously contemplate quitting every time I announce a pregnancy.”

“That’s another thing!” she exclaimed, much to Viserra’s alarm. “Aegon is so desperate for me to have ladies. I have survived this long without them.”

“They help,” I replied, thinking of the unwavering support my ladies gave me. “I’d be lost without them, probably.”

“Lady Jeyne tried to give me one once… she quit after I suggested camping…” said Helaena in a dreamy tone, startling giggles out of me once more. Then she shook her head, small smile telling me she’d terrorised the poor girl into quitting on purpose, and turned to Viserra.

“What about you, Vis?” she asked. “Do you have any playmates?”

“No.” Her voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear it. “I prefer to play with Daeron.”

“He would have been sent to squire for someone eventually, Viserra,” I said as kindly as I could. “At least he is squiring in King’s Landing.”

She nodded but did not reply, her small face scrunched into a frown that gave me a hint she might be fighting tears, and I saw Helaena grimace, then cast a look at me as if I knew what to do, how to fix this gulf between both us and Viserra.

“Mine are always available,” I said and my youngest sister cast a look at me that would be more suited to being offered a swim in the Blackwater. She didn’t even dignify it with an answer. “Aemma is quieter than the twins. An avid reader too.”

“Maybe,” she replied in that same quiet voice, although I could tell her ‘maybe’ might as well have been a ‘no’ from the pained look on her face. Sister bonding time was not going well, it would seem. When Viserra’s gaze drifted back to her book, I shrugged at Helaena. My sister scrubbed her face in her hands and then forced her face to brighten up.

This had been her idea more than mine. She wanted so desperately to bring Viserra closer to us both, especially now that Daeron was squiring for Aemond. The fact that Viserra didn’t seem to want a replacement for Daeron in her older sisters was not deterring her. That was Helaena though, her mind ran on rails.

“I’ll start showing soon with any luck!” she said brightly, curling her hand across her stomach. She must be nearing the four month mark now… sixteen weeks give or take one or two and still as flat as a board. Likely not Jaehaera and Jaehaerys of canon then. Good.

“Another month or so,” I agreed, recalling Laena’s first pregnancy. “How has Alicent been?”

“Oh… mother is tolerable… when Aegon is distracting her,” Helaena mumbled, her bright and forced expression dimming into something dangerously close to exhaustion. In the corner of my eye, Viserra’s violet eyes were on me again. I forced myself to smile indulgently.

“It is her first grandchild, surely you can make some concessions?” Alicent would not hear any reports of me badmouthing her from Viserra, that was ammo she could use to complain to father and I wasn’t giving her that for free. Helaena groaned and brought her hands up to her face.

“You aren’t supposed to defend her, Rhaenyra,” she whined. “You’re supposed to agree with me on how overbearing she’s being.”

That made me laugh and even Viserra managed a little smile.

“Give her tim-” A pounding on the door cut me off. I frowned in the silence afterwards, then as our visitor began pounding again, Ser Steffon and Ser Arryk’s angry voices reached us as well, ordering whomever was attacking Helaena’s door to stop. They did, although from the sound of it that was because one of the white cloaks guarding the door had been forced to physically stop them.

I caught Helaena’s eye yet she seemed just as confused as I was. Poor Viserra seemed to be debating moving closer to Helaena as a voice that was familiar to me rose in volume to out-yell Ser Steffon’s equally as angry tones.

“Keep Helaena company would you, Viserra? I’ll go see who is mounting an assault on her rooms.” Viserra nodded, gratefully sliding a little closer to Helaena, who dropped a comforting arm about her younger sister, even if her expression was still one of bafflement as she stared at the door.

I gave them both a reassuring smile and rose, making my way to the source of the noise. As I did, the noise changed from angry yelling to what sounded like a struggle. Even more concerned now, yet reassured by the lack of general alarm, I threw open the door to find Ser Steffon and Eustace wrestling with one another.

I wouldn’t have thought the Septon could put up such a spirited fight and yet every time it seemed Steffon got a hold of him, he would wriggle free again. The third time he did it, both the knight and the septon noticed me watching with an incredulous look.

“What, in the name of the Seven, is going on out here?” I asked and Septon Eustace went red with rage.

“How dare you!? How dare you invoke the Seven!?” he screeched, although his righteous anger was somewhat ruined by him being so out of breath he was swaying back and forth. “It is an outrage! Hypocrisy of the highest order!”

“Perhaps you should take a few deep breaths and control yourself before attempting this conversation again?” It was less a question and more a command. I watched as he peered around at the stoic face of Ser Arryk and the decidedly unfriendly look Steffon was giving him. We waited in silence as his breathing slowly came back under control.

“Your Grace,” he began. “I apologise for my rude interruption-”

“You would do well to apologise to Ser Steffon and Ser Arryk as well. Your conduct was quite undignified.” He flushed at my condemnation and mumbled apologies to the two knights. It was best to always keep Eustace on the back foot, if he was apologising and justifying himself, he wasn’t launching into a tedious sermon or rant.

“I was quite overcome when I heard the news,” he said, straightening back up and his eyes taking on that glint again. “You were seen entering the Great Sept!”

The way he pronounced it… it was as if it were some unbeatable trump card that I would be unable to deny. 

“Indeed,” I replied, feigning puzzlement. “My son and daughter wished to see the art.”

He went red again and Steffon tensed.

“Stolen art! Stolen when that false septon seized the Sept!” he proclaimed. “The High Septon himself has declared the Great Sept off limits to all true members of the Faith!”

“I imagine that this comes as a surprise to the true members of the Faith that worship there.” When he opened his mouth to reply, I held up my hand. “My father has made his ruling on the matter, septon, and I will abide by it.”

I watched as he seemed to inflate in rage, puffing his chest out as he tried to set his angry thoughts in order and deliver some sort of coherent denouncement.

“He is a thief! A thief who brings the whole of the Faith into disrepute!” he screeched. “By refusing to combat him, your father is going back on the promise King Jaehaerys gave us!”

“I do not think King Jaehaerys would be opposed to Septon Patrek,” I replied coldly. “Given the septon preaches much of what we know Barth believed.”

“Barth was a noble man! A good man! How dare you drag his name into association with a man that masquerades as holy for profit! A man who misleads his poor followers further from the light of the Seven every day!” Oh boy, he was pissed. Eustace was beginning to go a funny shade of purple and I half wondered, with a sinking feeling of horror, if he was to have a heart attack right here.

“Septon Eustace,” I began. “My father has affirmed this to be an internal dispute within the Faith. We betray no vows and oaths-”

He stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger and both knights went to seize him. Yet he stopped before they could, attempting to intimidate me with the height he did have on me. Yet I was surrounded by Velaryon giants for the most part… and he had nothing on Rhaenys’ ability to suddenly loom.

“That is not for him to decide! To declare the whole thing some of court chicanery and have done with it! This is about the Faith under attack! Not two women bickering over a crown!” He knew he’d gone too far the moment he’d finished saying it. His eyes bulged and he let out a strangled yelp as if he could somehow take it all back.

I fixed him with an arctic glare.

“Ser Steffon.” The knight moved to attention. “Have Septon Eustace escorted to his quarters, it seems he has lost all semblance of his manners.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” He moved forward, laying his hand on the pommel of his sword, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Move.”

Septon Eustace stared between the furious looking Kingsguard and me. Finding mercy in neither, his bottom lip trembled for a moment, then he drew himself up once more, puffing out his chest.

“The High Septon will hear about this! See if he does not! I shall send a letter personally to protest the way you have treated me!”

“And my father will hear about you disturbing our afternoon tea. Poor Viserra was quite unnerved by the whole matter.” When he remained unmoved by my subtle threat, I gave him another hint. “And Helaena too, I should warrant.”

Then he got it. He paled, his eyes flickering nervously at the door he had so spiritedly attempted to breach not ten minutes prior. Steffon moved forward and the septon began backpedaling down the corridor, no doubt imagining the horrors that father could inflict should Helaena endure even a single twinge of discomfort that could be blamed on his actions.

“Is the Princess so unduly stressed?” asked Ser Arryk, his voice a mirror of his brother’s yet more cool with me than Erryk had ever been.

“No, she is looking after Viserra,” I replied, with a sinking feeling that had I not been here, Helaena may well have come out swinging herself. That would have ended badly for Eustace. “Will you inform them of what occurred? I believe I should report this to father.”

“He is unlikely to approve of having his Septon locked in his quarters like a naughty child.” His tone made it clear he disapproved. I merely shrugged as he turned his back and stepped into Helaena’s rooms. I waited until I could make out his low tones from within before setting off.

It was not terribly hard to find father, not truly, it was a simple matter of following the servants carrying enough wine between them to stock a small feast. He was hosting some kind of get together in the gardens, colourful marquees keeping the summer sun off of the nobles hanging on his words.

I waited, listening as he told the onlookers some likely great exaggerated story from the Conquest of Dorne. His audience seemed enraptured though, and he did not seem likely to stop anytime soon, so engrossed in telling everyone about his exploits as he was. 

I took a seat on a low wall to the back of the crowd and fixed a small smile on my face as I listened to his story. The sweet smell of the flowers and the summer sun made my head feel heavy and the layers of fabric I wore much too thick. I waved away a proffered goblet of wine from a servant and let my thoughts wander, in a way I rarely allowed myself to in the Red Keep.

I had not expected Eustace’s reaction to be so direct… or so furious. It seemed that the High Septon considered the good Septon Patrek to be a greater threat than I had realised. Well, he had a following these days; a lot in the Crownlands, some in the Riverlands and a minority of the Stormland septas and septons.

Yet not enough to truly challenge the Faith, not yet. Perhaps this High Septon was merely a proactive one, seeking to nip a problem in the bud before it got out of hand. I shivered as a thought crossed my mind. I had landed my children squarely on his shit list.

Fuck.


	151. Flash Point - Chapter 127

“How dare he!?” I exclaimed for what felt like the fortieth time. I wasn’t entirely alone in my outrage. Father sat in his seat, nodding along, his face nearly purple. I will admit to putting it on slightly for his benefit, but putting Aemon and Aemma in the firing line had spooked me…

“I will have him dealt with,” promised father, after it became clear I had finished my rant. “He shall be sent back to Oldtown in disgrace-”

“And have the High Septon send another?” I asked. “It will be Edmund all over again.”

“Then what would you have me do!?” snapped father. “I have listened to your council on this Septon Patrek! I have denied Eustace’s and Edmund’s petitions to retake the Sept! I can not judge Eustace, I must send him back to the High Septon… it must all be done as my grandfather promised it would.”

“You can overrule Jaehaerys, father, you are king in your own right,” I told him sourly. Viserys sighed, slouching in his chair.

“Have I not already overruled him by naming you my heir? I know you argue differently but we all know what he intended when he called that Council. I can not tear down every decision he ever made. Westeros will not stand for it.” He was not a king that could get away with that. I sighed in response and his features softened again.

“Rhaenyra, I will have words with Eustace. Strong and pointed words, for I do not take kindly to him threatening my family. Your children will be safe,” he promised. I gave him a smile I did not feel and dropped a kiss to his temple. He chuckled and stood, pulling me close for a fatherly hug that I let myself enjoy. Perhaps I sometimes ignored that for all that I fought for the Throne, father was my greatest supporter.

I should work to ensure not every meeting we had was full of stress.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

“It is no issue,” he said, standing back. “They are my grandchildren. Aemon will one day sit the Throne. I owe it to them to ensure they are safe.”

“I know father. I merely worry.” He smiled indulgently.

“As is a mother’s right,” he replied, then he gestured to the gardens where his nobles had long since dispersed. I fell into step with him and we ambled off together, picking our way among the flowers. If there was one thing I could compliment Alicent on, it was that the Red Keep never lacked for beauty with her at the helm, whether it was art or plant-life.

“Lord Corlys tells me you are trying for another babe with Laenor.” The excitement was winning out over disapproval in his tone and I forced myself not to smile.

“We did not wish to tell anyone until we knew there was even a babe on the way,” I said. “I am fast approaching thirty, father, not an ideal age.”

“You still have a decade, maybe even more,” he said quickly, as if he feared I worried over the matter.

“It is not my intention to imitate the Good Queen,” I told him. “Yet Lord Corlys was fretting.”

“I understand,” father replied. “The Seven knows he frets enough about those islands.”

“He’ll launch a play for them soon enough. Just be minded he may elect to resign his seat over the matter. He has long been bitter over their loss, they were to be part of his legacy.”

“Along with his blood on the Iron Throne,” sighed father.

“I thought you had mended your fences with Rhaenys.” I said it before I could stop myself, worried and alarmed. That made him laugh.

“No need to sound so horrified, Rhaenys and I are still at peace and I do believe her when she says that rogue loves her more than he likes everyone to think,” he said, after he’d calmed down. I was impressed that he kept a criticism of Laenor out of the conversation given he still believed Corlys’ bastards to be my husband’s, and me the scorned wife playing a loving role. “She was a wildcat in her youth. Oh, the stories I could tell…”

I knew most of them already, of course. I had heard father reminiscing about her many times over. A girl who had pursued the ‘manly’ arts with a greater degree of success than many boys her age, a girl who had been fearless and outspoken… a girl whom father saw as vanishing the day she married Corlys Velaryon, a man two years older than her own father.

Yet when Rhaenys had been bleeding from a dozen wounds and had still managed to slit the throat of her attacker, had fought with a fierceness that had let her survive her would-be assassin until help arrived and distracted him, that was when my father realised that his Rhaenys had never gone away. 

“So you have said,” I replied. “Something about trouncing some older boys for mocking you in the yards.”

He went pink at the memory. Rhaenys had been older than them and taller besides with just enough skill to send them running. I doubted she would manage it now but it was an amusing thing to think of her with blade in hand, terrorising those she saw as wronging her. She’d put the blade down the day her grandfather stripped her of her birthright.

“Yes well… I have no doubt Rhaenys can master Corlys well enough. It is just-” he paused for a moment, struggling with the words, then he sighed in defeat. “It is nothing. The fancies of an old man.”

“Well, you have the old part right,” I told him, fighting to keep my face straight and he roared with laughter.

“Hah! Such insults…” he chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “It’s days like these I miss Mushroom. He could always make me laugh, no matter how grim the situation was.”

I kept silent on the subject of the dwarf and he snorted.

“You were like that as a child too. He never appealed to you.”

“He did not,” I admitted. “I found him far too vulgar.”

“Well, perhaps he was not everyone’s preferred vintage but I liked him well enough. So did your mother.” That brought a lump to my throat.

“Did she?” She had never struck me as the type.

“Oh, yes. When we would take our private meals, I would bring him in to sing and dance for her. Inevitably he’d manage to slip something crass in there and her little face would scrunch up as she attempted not to laugh, and tried to scold him.” I swallowed thickly. Little face… a reminder that she had been a mere fifteen when she’d had me. That she had only just turned twenty two when she’d died.

When I said nothing for a long time he sighed again. I watched as a bumblebee carried out its slow business around the blooms.

“A bit of laughter would do all of us good,” father stated, although I suspected it was more of a general observation rather than specifically directed at myself. I made a noise of agreement anyway before being momentarily distracted by Silverwing flying low over the palace, Tessarion trailing her.

“Good boys, both of them,” father observed as they disappeared towards the Dragonpit. I shivered without meaning to as I pictured the great building and what could happen should Aemma try and tame a dragon there.

“Rhaenyra-” Confusion slithered through me as I wondered what I had possibly done to earn such a warning tone before it clicked a moment later.

“By the Seven, no!” I cried at him. “I was merely worrying on some matter.”

“That should come to mind at the sight of your brothers,” he pointed out, tartly.

“That should come to mind at the thought of the Dragonpit,” I replied, with an equally sour tone. “Aemma wishes for a dragon.”

“What is the worry then? I shall inform the guards to expect her-”

“It’s a dragon!” I cried. “She is only six!”

“As was Helaena.” I grimaced. He had a point. Yet I had known nothing could go wrong for Helaena, canon had guided me there. But we were so far off the rails of canon now and Aemma… Aemma was so much smaller than Helaena had been. So much more delicate.

“It is different,” I finally mumbled, crumbling in the face of his raised eyebrow. “Helaena is… well, Helaena.”

“I’ll grant you that,” said father, snorting in amusement. “I can not deny she seems older than her years when she wants to be.”

If only you knew, father. You would wrap her in wool and never let any near her.

“It is not that different though.” I sighed and rubbed at my face.

“Is this what Alicent went through?” I asked, and when he blinked, not understanding, I elaborated. “When I took them that morning? If so, I owe her an apology.”

That made him laugh until he was bent double at the waist, snorting and almost giggling in a most un-regal manner.

“Oh, Rhaenyra!” he managed to choke out. “She was worse. She was fit to turn into a dragon herself that morning. I thought I would need to have her restrained as you rode off.”

“Your Grace!” His laughter transformed into a groan of annoyance and he turned to face the page that hovered a respectful distance away. “Your Grace, the Lord Hand asks that you speak with him as soon as possible on an urgent matter.”

“I am sorry, Rhaenyra,” he said grimly. “Lyonel would not call me-”

“Go,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “As long as you fill me in on the details later.”

“As like as not it’s the Blackwoods and the Brackens again,” he groaned and I grimaced as well.

“Then I definitely need to be told. Aly and Jeyne will be at it before sundown if I am not warned.” He managed a pained smile at that. I hugged him once more and let him go, waiting in the gardens until he was long out of sight before sighing.

Somehow, I had expected father to be a little more sympathetic to my plight with Aemma and yet… and yet, not even he would see that Aemma was not Helaena, that she was not Aegon. Least of all Aemma herself. I decided to scrap Court and going back to Helaena, instead taking a litter back to the manse.

Laenor had told me that I was wrapping them in the same wool I so hated. That Aemma considered herself ready, was willing to brave the Dragonpit… Laena had expounded upon the supposed docility of pit dragons, how the pit served to make them used to humans and to temper their natural aggression. Wild dragons did not lair with other dragons and became almost feral as a result. Yet pit dragons were social creatures at heart, and so rarely become dangerous.

It still left me uneasy. Yet I could not deny the growing realisation that I was probably in the wrong on this occasion. That six had long been the agreed age for the Dragonpit and I had been fine with slinging my brothers and sisters in there… hells, if Aemon asked today I’d let him go.

Concealed within the litter, I groaned, rubbing at my temples in a vain attempt to fight a headache that was threatening at the realisation I must have come across as a total hypocrite. Had I not always striven to be consistent with them? Yet fear had trumped even that resolution.

Aemma was a smart child though. Empathetic. If I just explained the matter… maybe she would decide on her own not to go until she was older? Although, with how stubborn Targaryens could be, I had a few doubts about that plan. 

Once back at the manse, I located Laenor easily enough. He was going over some reports on Spicetown, making notes on desired expansions and areas that he felt needed development.

“Husband,” I said, startling him. “Where are the children today?”

“The garden, I think,” he told me, trying to recover from his mini-heart attack. “Laena and Sera are looking after them. Why?”

I took a deep breath and steeled myself.

“Perhaps we ought to revisit the issue of Aemma’s dragon.” He smiled at that but there was no hint of smugness on his features, something I had been dreading.

“You know my opinion,” he said. 

“I do. I have… thought again on the matter. With your help, I will explain to her why I was so reluctant and then we can take her together.”

“Today?” he asked, his nose screwing up.

“No!” I cried. “No, tomorrow. Or the next day. Today is too soon.”

“Oh, this is painful for you, isn’t it?” he snickered, before noticing my dark look. He stood and tugged me close. “She is our daughter. She is fierce and every inch a dragon. She will be fine and you will soon be cursing the hatchling she brings home with her for its mischief.”

Gods, I hoped he was right.


	152. Flash Point - Chapter 128

We found ourselves outside the Dragonpit a few days later. It was as imposing as I remembered, guarded by the Dragonkeepers, an order I would have to attend to sooner than later, and seemingly radiating heat that made the air close to the stone dance. Aemma stopped when she truly beheld it, swallowing hard. I dropped a hand to her shoulder and she reached up to clutch at my fingers.

“It’s big and very warm,” she whispered. She had not been here often. Not with our dragons living on the beaches outside King’s Landing. She looked up at me before giving me a small smile.

“We can leave anytime,” I told her. “And come back anytime. Nobody will look down on you for it.”

“Thank you,” she said, before letting go and taking a deep breath. I hadn’t thought she would take the bait but part of me had to try. The part of me that still insisted she was in danger, about to become a dragon snack, made all the louder by having no idea of what her fate would be.

Then again, did I truly know anyone’s fate these days?

“Aemma is made of sterner stuff than that.” I turned to find Laena and Laenor watching with amused looks. They had insisted on coming along. Laenor because he was her father and a dragonrider too and Laena… well, she mothered my children as much as I did at times. If one needed something, they had an equal chance of going to her than they did me, unless it was Alys.

I owed it to Jocelyn most of all to admit that, even if it still hurt as much now as it had on Dragonstone to realise that she may know them better than I did.

“And what if Rhaena wanted a dragon, hm?” I asked her. She gave me a wide grin.

“I’d encourage it!” she boasted. “Well, she does want a dragon, actually. She won’t tell me which one though.”

“I know,” said Aemma. “But I swore an oath not to tell anyone.”

“Joff and I will get it out of her eventually,” muttered Laena, making Aemma giggle. Laena’s moment of tomfoolery seemed to have worked and Aemma started walking again, her eyes huge as her head swivelled about, taking in the sheer size of it.

It was an older Franklyn that met us, his bow as practised yet lacking any true feeling as always. When he looked up, he was grinning, making me smile in turn. As unimpressed by royalty as he had been since I had first brought Syrax to the pit.

“Franklyn,” I said warmly. “Meet my daughter, Princess Aemma.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my Princess,” he said, eyes sparkling in amusement. “I am Ser Franklyn Hill.”

“Greetings, Ser Franklyn,” she replied, voice polite.

“Ah! The very image of Her Grace at your age! I could tell you some stories about the mischief she got in, why, I remember-” I interrupted him with a cough and his grin only became wider.

“Oh, but we were just getting to the good part,” Laenor almost whined.

“Stick around, Ser, and I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.” From the way his eyes lit up at the offer, I suspected he would know several embarrassing stories from my childhood before sundown… well, the dragon related ones Franklyn had witnessed anyway. I didn’t bother looking at Laena, she would be more gleeful about the matter than her brother was.

The next hour or so was spent watching Aemma as she toured the Dragonpit. I would be lying if I wasn’t desperately wishing she would chicken out and demand to go home. Yet my youngest did not and when she saw the dragons themselves… well, it was over.

She and her siblings had ridden on Syrax’s back, of course, Seasmoke and Vhagar too, yet there was a world of difference in being a passenger compared to being the rider in your own right… there was power in it, to direct such a fearsome beast, to have it respond to your commands and your commands alone.

I noted with some annoyance and not a small amount of relief that Seasmoke appeared to be present, rumbling away in annoyance at being in the pit if I knew him well. Which I did, by this point. Some dragons were like their owners and some… some were definitely not. 

Seasmoke was going to be more akin to Caraxes or Vermithor, I was sure of it, big for their ages and hard to beat in battle as well. Yet he was not so unlike my husband that he would threaten the children or allow any harm he could prevent to come to them in presence.

When I turned with raised eyebrows to my husband he blushed, looking guilty, prompting Laena to giggle at how uncomfortable he looked.

“I wanted to teach her,” he mumbled.

“It’s her choice,” I told him, turning to watch her as she took a few more cautious steps to peer around Seasmoke’s bulk. “But I admit you will probably be her first choice.”

He looked very pleased by that. I suspect that it would be Aemma that would have him wrapped around her finger as she grew older, even more than the twins and Aemon. 

“Oh,” gasped Aemma, clutching at Seasmoke’s wing. “She’s beautiful…”

Dreamfyre stirred from her sleep, raising her head to watch us all through disinterested eyes. Pale blue and silvery, she was a large-ish dragon, although she would likely soon be outstripped by others if she remained here. I swallowed thickly, terror turning my blood to ice.

She was supposed to tame a hatchling! A small thing! Not… not Dreamfyre… not a dragon bigger than Syrax, Seasmoke and even Meleys, although that last one was by a slim margin these days. I wanted to reach out and pull her back to safety, to cancel the whole idea now and take her home where she would be safe.

But I could not.

“Do you know her history?” I asked, forcing myself to move up behind Aemma. My voice sounded a little hoarse to my own ears but I doubted Aemma noticed, what with how entranced she was by the dragon. She jumped a little at my voice and presence but remained staring at her future mount.

“The mount of Rhaena Targaryen, older sister of Jaehaerys Targaryen.” She tilted her head and then added, “Aunt Helaena told me all about her.”

Suddenly, a lot of things became a bit clearer. 

“The day she came to speak with Alys?” I asked, keeping my tone mild. Aemma, normally so in-tune to that sort of thing, didn’t answer as she stepped forward again. “Of course.”

From behind me, I could hear Laenor and Laena muttering amongst themselves.

“Helaena’s meddling again?” asked Laenor. “Is it a dream do you think?”

“I will not complain about her meddling but something tells me Rhaenyra will,” muttered Laena. I turned and gave them both a Look. I would have time to be furious at my little sister later, when my daughter was not facing a full grown dragon instead of the hatchling I had hoped she would attempt to tame.

Yet was she not doing what I myself had done? Manipulated those around me based on knowledge of a future that may not even come to be? And, I reminded myself firmly as Aemma took a few small steps forward, Laenor tore me a new one for doing so. So I’m allowed to get angry over this and pass the sentiment on to Helaena. 

I watched as the dragon made a disinterested huff and lowered her head once more, as if she had her fill of curiosity for the day and merely wished to go back to sleep. I fought the urge to sigh. A decade had not improved her mood or done much to rouse her from her curious stupor.

Another topic that fascinated Laena, I should add. That a dragon could carry its riders grief far after their death… Not that Dreamfyre made her study easy, surly creature that she was. 

“Hello!” said Aemma brightly. Laenor took my hand and smiled encouragingly at her when she looked back, biting at her lip.

“There is no set method,” called Laena. “Just do what feels right!”

A small hand grazed lightly over the dragon’s snout. Dreamfyre’s eyes flickered open again, this time with the most life I’d seen in them… well, ever. She still did not move though, or make any noise, for the longest time. Long enough that my breathing had long gone back to normal.

“Hello,” said Aemma again. “I’m Aemma. I’m a princess, like Rhaena was!”

Dreamfyre rumbled, her head moving alongside my daughter, as if curious about the small child that was disturbing her sleep and not going away despite her usual methods. Every twitch she made had me tensing, despite Laenor moving to rub comforting circles in the small of my back.

“I have a friend called Rhaena,” Aemma continued, running her hand over pale blue scales. “She’s not like your Rhaena though, her hair is different and she isn’t a princess.”

Dreamfyre rumbled again, as if in reply, as my daughter moved around her head with slow steps, running her small hand down her neck.

“Would you let me ride you? I promise I shall be the best rider I can!” The dragon’s head came up once more, as if she understood Aemma’s words. 

“Well, if I knew having a chat with her would work,” muttered Laena, only to be shushed by Laenor. I watched as Dreamfyre lowered her head once more into Aemma’s waiting hands as if against her better judgement. The force of my relief nearly knocked me from my feet as her little face lit up in delight and happiness.

“Well done,” I said, stepping forward and feeling as I might just float off from how light headed I was feeling. “You did very well.”

“Indeed,” said Laenor, bending down to scoop her into a hug. Aemma clutched at the shoulders of his tunic tight. “Now you need to choose a teacher.”

The little laugh he gave afterwards gave away how much he wanted her to pick him.

“Don’t be silly, Papa,” she said, frowning. “I choose you! You even brought Seasmoke here for me.”

Laena snorted in amusement and Laenor lowered Aemma to the ground, his ears red at being caught out by a six year old. Admittedly an observant one but still…

“Well,” he teased, rubbing the back of his head. “I suppose I have free time in my schedule.”

Aemma looked over to me and grinned widely.

“Can I go for a ride now? With Papa of course and Dreamfyre can come with us-” I held up a hand to cut off the excited babbling that was to come.

“If your father will take you and if Dreamfyre will follow.” She didn’t even have to ask, Laenor was already leading her over to Seasmoke. He winked as he passed and I rolled my eyes at his sudden jubilant mood, no doubt he would be insufferable later. Dreamfyre stirred, watching with interest as Laenor and Franklyn seemed to saddle Seasmoke in record time.

“Go on,” I said to the she-dragon. “Have a good stretch of your wings with them.”

I was regarded coolly and then she threw her head back and gave out a bellowing roar that sent the hatchlings flapping about in alarm and Seasmoke flaring his wings. Yet no fight started and it wasn’t long before she followed them out on clumsy legs, Aemma calling back encouragement the entire way.

Her first few flaps were shaky but she was soon trailing after Seasmoke with relative ease. I suppose even if you did not fly for a few decades, you never forgot it.

“I wonder what Rhaena Targaryen would have thought of all this,” mused Laena, as we made our way back outside the Dragonpit after bidding Ser Franklyn goodbye. “She left quite a bit of writing on the topic of dragons at Dragonstone. She was incredibly learnt on the matter.”

“And a great fan of Velaryon ladies,” I teased back and she snorted. “But if you want an answer, she’d probably have spontaneously combusted when Jaehaerys passed your mother over.”

“Grandmother always said Alysanne felt guilty over passing Aerea over. Not at the time, it was necessary to push Jaehaerys’ claim at the time but… afterwards, yes.”

“Grandmother? Lady Jocelyn?” Laena smiled and nodded.

“It’s a shame you never met her,” replied Laena, finally, after squinting at the sky for a good few minutes. Seasmoke and Dreamfyre seemed to be racing one another, swooping this way and that. “She would have liked you, I think, and she would have given mother and father an earful about working against you.”

Lady Jocelyn Baratheon had died shortly after hearing of Laenor and I’s betrothal and Boremund had gone not a year later. It was odd to think both were my great grandfather’s siblings…

We stood there in companionable silence for a good while longer until the dragons began their descent once more.


	153. Flash Point - Chapter 129

Of course, Aemma taming Dreamfyre meant father insisted on holding a feast. So a few weeks later I found myself seated at the high table alongside the guest of honour. I watched with no small amount of amusement as my ladies and good old Septa Leyla, attempted to herd the sheer amount of children we could count between us all, including said guest of honor, into something approaching good behaviour. Given there were fifteen of them across an entire range of ages from five to thirteen, this was no easy task. Even Fal and Laena were united in preventing Manfryd and Luke from arm-wrestling or Jocelyn and Rolph attempting to duel with their knives.

“Oh dear,” said Laenor, from my right, hiding his smile in his wine as Walter Strong somehow smeared mashed vegetables into his brother’s doublet. “They seem to be outnumbered.”

I glanced to my left, in time to see Aemma attempt to eat beef and gravy with her hands. At my raised eyebrow, she went back to cutlery with an annoyed expression. Thankfully, the noise of the feast and general merriment was enough that the bad behaviour of my children went unnoticed.

Besides, there was much more entertainment to be found in the hall tonight for the eagle-eyed. The delegation from the Stormlands had stayed, even if my northern admirer had yet to quit sulking that I had not played his game. That meant one Lord Royce Caron and one Lord Manfryd Swann had to be in the same room as the other for an extended period of time.

The subtle posturing, feeling of hostility and occasional elbowing between each man’s supporters was glorious. 

“They aren’t wolves, Laenor. They’re just exuberant,” I replied, in a good mood. He raised his eyebrows at me.

“You seem… well tonight?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I just feel happy and content.” Bemused, he turned back to his own meal and I stuck my tongue out at him… which, naturally, Jocelyn saw and looked utterly delighted by. Laenor chuckled into his vegetables.

“It’s rare to catch you in such a mood, especially at a feast.”

“I’m not quite sure what you are insinuating, my love.” My reply caused Aemma to snicker into her beef and inevitably attracted father’s attention too.

“What has you giggling away?” he asked her.

“Mama is teasing papa,” she replied, causing him to chuckle. I had to hand it to him, he knew how to hide his dislike for my husband around the children. I suppose it was the least I could ask for if I couldn’t engineer a close bond between them.

Besides, he’d given Laenor Dark Sister. I’m sure he knew, or at least suspected, the truth behind the blade’s disappearance and reappearance, yet he’d gone along with it anyway.

“Mama teases everyone,” he said. “She called me old just the other day.” 

“I wonder why,” muttered Aegon, sarcastically, from somewhere beyond Viserys, causing Aemma to smirk. A few moments later, he leaned around father’s shoulder, nearly crushing Alicent into her chair in the process, and gave me a conspiratorial grin. “The old man’s positively decrepit these days!”

“Oh, yes. More grey than silver,” I agreed, causing him to guffaw and Viserys to cuff him gently about the head.

“Aegon, do not lean over me!” complained Alicent. He got up instead and dropped next to Aemma. 

“Switch seats with me?” he asked. “Helaena is talking about babies.”

That made Aemma’s eyes light up and she looked at me, her features radiating hope. I sighed and glanced back to Laenor, who shrugged. She didn’t wait for my reply, scrambling past her grandfather and uncle to find Helaena. Aegon took over her seat a moment later and sighed.

“No offence, Rhaenyra, but women speak of babies entirely too often.” I might have replied sarcastically but Laenor beat me to it.

“And men not enough. Are they not ours as well?” Aegon flushed at that but nodded.

“It just seems so tiring,” he complained. “She used to speak of hunting and flying, now it’s all names and household preparation.”

“Important things,” said father, laying a hand on Aegon’s shoulder. “You should take a leaf from Laenor’s book. Be involved with your children, you will regret not being.”

That made Aegon pause, tilting his head back as if looking at father in a new light. Perhaps he was. I’m not sure how good of a father my siblings rated father as. He had abandoned them to Alicent and when Alicent had stepped out of line, he had sent them away to others, entirely to punish their mother and not to save them from the fear she had struck into their hearts or the ruin she was making of their childhood.

“You are right,” he said finally. “I’ll apologise to Hela after the feast.”

“I doubt it will take much,” I told him. “She’s a sensible girl. Has the midwife not filled her in on activities she can safely do whilst pregnant?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But she’s fretting.”

“Ah,” said father. “The worries of a new mother.”

“They pale in comparison to the worries of a new grandparent,” I opined slyly and he had the grace to blush at that. My pregnancy with Aemon had not driven him nearly as mad with worry. I had even been allowed to retain my place at his side in the Small Council until I was fit to burst.

“Mother has been… worrying,” said Aegon softly, his violet eyes seeking where his mother was sat in conversation with Aemma and Helaena. He chuckled softly. “And so has Aemond, now that I think on it.”

“He did not strike me as the worrying type,” said Laenor, then flushed as father fixed him with a sharp look. “That is… he is the bold type, to strike first.”

“It is true,” Aegon replied quickly, glancing at father as well. “But pregnancy and the birthing bed is not something he can fight.”

“Not with a sword,” I said cheerfully. “Forceps maybe. Perhaps he should retrain?”

That made Aegon laugh and father smile broadly. The image of Aemond, dressed as a midwife and armed with forceps and a stethoscope flashed through my mind, making me dissolve into uncontrollable giggles. It even won a snort from Laenor, which was rare indeed when it came to Aemond.

The incident at Dragonstone had not helped my husband’s slight dislike of my brother. Aemond had his eyes on Dark Sister and Laenor was not about to relinquish it. Alicent had claimed the blade should go to the most talented with the blade of House Targaryen… father had put a stop to the verbal jousting after I had suggested Alicent seek out my Uncle then, so that she could return what the Dornish stole.

In retrospect, it had not been the most tactful response.

Silence fell as we finished up our courses, each of us occasionally glancing out over the assembled nobles. Even the children had calmed down, focusing on some tale Sera was telling them. Judging from the way my more rambunctious charges were enthralled I’d guess it some tale of her and Alys’s youth. No doubt she was introducing them to some new prank or trick that one of us poor adults would eventually fall victim to. I had long since forbidden them from messing with the staff in that manner.

Well, except for the stable boys at the Keep. Those were able to hold their own and I’d made it clear that any consequences of a prank was on my children and I would not have some poor boy fired or mutilated because they were caught in a water trap.

The stable boys were winning, it should be noted. I chuckled at the same time Aegon did as Sera’s story had them all falling about laughing.

“I have a great hope our children will be friends,” he said finally.

“I see no reason they won’t be. I can not imagine any child of yours being meek.” He snorted, taking my compliment for what it was.

“No, I can not either,” he mused. Then a frown crossed his face, annoyance soon following. I tracked his gaze to find Lord Caron and Lord Swann in a terse conversation. “Do they not have any decency? This is a celebration.”

“Apparently not,” I murmured as Aegon’s sudden icy tones attracted father’s attention once more.

“What is it?” he asked gravely.

“Caron and Swann, father,” I replied. He found them in the crowd and then turned to Lorent, murmuring something in his Lord Commander’s ear. Lorent disappeared and then reappeared and a moment later, a man I recognised as one of father’s knights quietly broke them up, sending them a few seats away from one another. 

I did not miss both lords’ red faces and angry looks.

“Deftly done,” I complimented him.

“It’s needed sometimes,” father admitted. “Blackwoods and Brackens mostly.”

“They should not even be here,” grouched Aegon, taking a deep drink from his mug. “Lord Borros is their liege lord and their argument is over some title that was defunct in Argilac’s day.”

“Oh?” I chuckled. “Have you been researching the matter?”

“Yes.” He might have said more but father’s sigh interrupted him again.

“We have been over this, Aegon.” His tones carried steel and I winced. I had the sudden feeling father had reason to have spoken with Aegon about this topic many, many times before. 

“I understand your position, father, yet by even hearing this matter we undermine our vassals and their rights.”

“As they seek to undermine our rights as their lieges,” I argued. “And undermine the rights of their own vassals in turn. It is the same at every level of governance.”

“It should not be,” he insisted and father brought his hand down angrily.

“Enough,” he hissed. “I have heard enough of this reasoning. I give the Lannisters a concession and they fill your head with nonsense. How will you advise Rhaenyra when she is Queen if you continue to spout this rot?”

Aegon went red and Alicent, catching the last of his sentence, turned to look at him, clearly annoyed.

“Dissenting opinions are always welcome,” I said, trying to prevent a public argument. Yet my good mood from earlier was well and truly gone now and my stomach was rolling with nerves. People were beginning to notice and I could feel the eyes of the room slowly turn to us.

“Humph,” said father. “You would do well to see how ruling truly works.”

“And how would he do that, dear husband?” asked Alicent, voice full of poison. “When you have so effectively barred him from any kind of power.”

A tense moment passed, my stomach lurching again, and I realised with a horrifying clarity that it was not nerves that had me so upset.

“Excuse me,” I said, rising abruptly. “I have to go, right now.”

I didn’t bother looking back as I swept out, sweat beading over my face. Ser Steffon followed yet I barely paid any attention to him. I needed air and a quiet corner… and possibly a privy. Yet my stomach was not wanting to cooperate and I took the risk of sticking my head out of the window instead, cool air doing much for my peace of mind. 

“Your Grace,” Ser Steffon murmured. “Should I fetch a healer?”

I didn’t answer him and he didn’t prompt again because moments later there was the sound of another, clearly chasing us. His hand dropped to his sword and his face adopted a grim look. Yet it was no physical threat that rounded the corner in a rage.

“You can not just storm from the room because you lost an argument!” Aegon growled, frustrated. I pulled my head back in only for my stomach to give up. With a mental prayer that nobody was standing below, I threw up. I felt his hands in my hair, ensuring my braid was pulled back. A warm hand started rubbing comforting, if slightly reluctant, circles on my lower back.

“Ugh.” That was all I could manage as I pulled my head back in and leaned against the wall. Ser Steffon stepped back, not taking his eyes off of my brother. Aegon barely seemed to notice the white knight as he stared at me with wide eyes.

“Rhaenyra? Are you…?” He stepped closer, laying a hand against my forehead. I ignored his horror in favour of rooting through my sleeves for a handkerchief. I gave up and Ser Steffon handed me one of his own, the stitching looking weirdly familiar.

“Pregnant?” I asked, wiping at my mouth. “Probably. We have been trying.”

He gave me a thin smile and stepped back, looking worried.

“I do not remember you being so ill…”

“I was with the twins,” I replied, suddenly too tired for anger or fear. “But if I’m having twins again, I’m gelding my husband and having done with it.”

Aegon giggled a little uncertainly.

“Could you inform father of what has occurred? And send Laenor back to me at the manse, little brother?” He hesitated and my stomach did a little flip-flop. “Ugh, if it helps, this news will absolutely distract him from the argument.”

“All right,” Aegon said. “I’ll go back. Be well, Rhaenyra.”


	154. Flash Point - Chapter 130

“… and thus, taking into consideration the evidence provided by the honourable Ser Laenor Velaryon, Ser Forrest Frey and Lord Torrhen Royce, I am forced to conclude I was misled by accusations of embezzlement and deception by my former regent, Lord Beron Karstark, and will be releasing him from my custody-” I stopped, glancing up in Joffrey in surprise. “Surely this can not be true?”

“Ser Forrest writes that Cregan released Lord Beron after the trial with a genuine apology and a promise such false evidence would be investigated thoroughly,” said Joffrey, in his usual calm manner. “Which is not to say Lord Beron believes him on the matter, of course.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” I burst out. “He had Beron dead to rights! We know he was selectively giving the subsidies out!”

Joffrey raised an eyebrow at me before leaning back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“The next part of Cregan’s letter may shed some light on the matter.” I glanced down and read ahead. Yet whichever way I turned it over in my mind, I could not make sense of the matter.

“He wants us to keep sending the glass through White Harbor and wishes for an order to be placed in his name? Oh… and he sends us an invitation to visit Winterfell at some point.” It still made no sense! When I said as much to Joffrey, he chuckled and I gave him an annoyed look. “Surely you do not see his game?”

“I can guess.” When I gave him an expectant look he sighed again. “He steals the glass from Bennard and links his name with yours, a move that will only gain him friends. Not to mention, he beats his hated uncle at his own game…”

“The man is supposed to be a political genius,” I told my spymaster, voice sour. “He would not try something so… he is not one to seek the strength of others to bolster his own.”

“I think you have an inflated sense of his political acumen. He is a young boy with a grudge.”

“A young boy who has the potential to-”

“You are getting hung up on the Hour of the Wolf once more,” said Joffrey, interrupting me. “Right now, Cregan seeks to secure his rule against an ambitious uncle. A sentiment you can agree with.”

“I can,” I replied, slumping back into my chair. “So you think he intends to steal Bennard’s place in my circle of allies.”

“Almost undoubtedly.”

“It still feels too simple,” I complained. 

“Perhaps he has some other plan brewing. The important thing is that he can not accuse us of any wrongdoing in the matter. Bennard… is a different story entirely.” I smiled at Joffrey’s tone.

“You believe he needs to be dealt with?” I asked. He smiled but it was not a friendly smile, more one that promised bad things to come for Bennard Stark.

“I find him tiresome, I will not lie. He reaches for what is not his.” Somehow, I don’t think he was referring to the North… at least not entirely. The implication made me blush and Joffrey smirked in turn.

Damn them and damn their little game.

“Plus,” he said, after I had finished pouting at him. “Cregan brings more to the table, if your book is to be believed.”

“He has his mind… and the Winter Wolves led by Roderick Dustin.” At my statement, Joffrey tented his fingers and nodded.

“Indeed he does. If he can be persuaded to commit every available man as soon as possible…”

“Any war that breaks out is ours for the taking.”

“It will certainly be an advantage,” agreed Joffrey. I snorted. Stormlanders and Dornish to fend off what Reachmen there were, Northmen and Valemen to take on the Lannisters… Yet Joffrey was probably right. If war did break out, I could only stack things in my favour. Anything could happen, after all.

“Bennard will be hunting vultures for a while,” I said, interrupting both of our reflective silences. “And when he gets back, your spies and informants will have ingratiated themselves well enough in his holdings.”

“I will be less worried about him when that happens. Certainly, less unpleasant surprises will come from that corner of the world. If we can bring Cregan to our side we can have Lady Elenda safely sideline Bennard,” Joffrey said. “Although I may reconsider my dislike if he brings us the heads of a good few vultures.”

“I hope he has the sense to capture a few alive,” I sighed. “I want to know just who among the Dornish still supports Wyl. He raided most of their lands, if they are cooperating with him now, it is by Garin’s will. I wonder what the Prince offered them to have them overlook his crimes?”

“Likely his head, after all is done. If Lord Dayne and his ilk are the best of the Dornish, then Garin and his men have proved themselves the worst. Yet even the Prince will find Walter Wyl hard to betray.” The thought of Dornish betrayal had me picturing Aliandra once more. I knew without asking that Joffrey likely had someone searching her room since she’d been allowed to bar anyone she wished from it. Especially since more than a few of the friends she locked herself in there with were from the Dornish Court of hers. Yet he had not brought anything up, so I assumed he had not found anything too incriminating. “If only I knew how Garin and his supporters were communicating with one another…”

“I suspect we’ll only find out when we catch them, in all honesty.” My tone was doubtful as I handed Cregan’s letter over to Joffrey to dutifully file away. “Did you see that he thanks us for the midwife?”

“Indeed I did,” said Joffrey, sounding amused. “No doubt he will thank us even further if it saves his wife’s life as you so believe it will.”

“I’m confident it will. Which reminds me, I must send for one soon enough. I don’t suppose Alannys is available once more?” Joffrey shrugged and made a note of my request. He was calm now, and slightly amused. He had not been so calm a few weeks ago, when I had beaten my hasty retreat from the feast. My extended family had pried themselves from the festivities as soon as was polite and had rushed home.

Reactions had been varied. Aemon was overjoyed, wanting it to be a little brother. The twins had given him that, begrudgingly, despite both still privately wishing the baby would be a girl they could mould in their image. Both had approached me after their riding lessons today to tell me they hoped it was a girl and that she would be their ‘Helaena’. They had not been old enough to try and forge a close bond with Aemma, sadly. By the time they had thought to try, she was already the little bookworm she is, enjoying mama’s stories more than roughhousing or dresses. 

As for the other part of my little family, Luke had been disinterested, his distracted congratulations before picking a fight with Rolph over some knight’s prowess on the field earning him a stern word from his mother. Rhaena and Aemma were already planning what outfits they could put the baby in, boy or girl.

As for my wards… well, they had each given me their polite congratulations. The girls were curious, each fast approaching sixteen and soon to be in a position to have their own babes. I was more surprised Luke and Aliandra hadn’t discovered some way to argue over the matter.

“Truly, some days I wish I could see your thoughts.” I opened my eyes and raised my eyebrow at Joffrey, who smiled widely. “You went from smiling softly to frowning within seconds.”

“Haha,” I muttered. “If you must know, I was thinking of how the children were dealing with the news… which led to thinking about Aliandra and Luke.”

Joffrey’s smile died slightly.

“It is not getting better, is it?” he asked. “My boy… I understand both of their objections to the other and yet…”

“We must begin to take an active role in healing the breach between them,” I decided. “I will not see them both miserable and blaming us.”

When Joffrey said nothing, electing to glare at his desk, I sighed.

“On to more amusing topics,” I said. “Perhaps we should schedule a dinner, to let dear Bennard know the good news.”

Joffrey’s smile was a nasty one again.

“He will be furious,” he said. “Cregan has come out of the matter smelling like roses.”

“A far cry from Bennard’s true goal,” I agreed. “Schedule it soon, Joffrey, I could do with the amusement. Maybe I should get a fool?”

He chuckled at that. I stood and Joffrey followed me up, grunting as he put weight on his bad leg. My fingers panged in sympathy as he leaned on his stick.

“Do you need a visit from Gerardys’ man again?” I asked, taking his free arm. “He seems to help.”

“He does for a while… but Seven Hells the treatment itself hurts,” he complained. I grimaced. 

“Has he no alternative?” I asked.

“He has his researchers looking into braces used in the Free Cities.” I was determined that by the time my rule was done we will have caught up to the Free Cities technology wise. Well, we were already ahead of the curve in some medical matters now, so at least I could boast that. 

“He thinks it will prevent these ‘attacks’ of pain?” I asked as we ambled through the house towards Laenor’s room.

“He believes so. I am not practised in medical matters-”

“But your leg is your own. You know what helps and what doesn’t.” He snorted at my interruption.

“What I need is rest,” he replied. “Yet my patron… she is a slave-driver.”

“She sounds terrible,” I said, with mock sympathy and he smiled, his first genuine smile of the day.

“Oh, she’s not that bad, really,” he teased as we reached Laenor’s room and opened the door. Laenor was there, but I hadn’t expected anything else. He seemed to be absorbed in a book on dragons, although I did not recognise the title. Likely it was from Laena’s collection.

He didn’t react to us entering, or me helping Joffrey lower himself to the bed. I watched as he paused in his reading to make a note on the paper before him before turning the page over.

“How long has he been at this?” I whispered as his brow furrowed in thought. Joffrey gave him an impossibly fond smile.

“Since shortly after we awoke. He wants to put together the perfect lesson plan for Aemma,” he whispered back. “He’s even preparing a reading list.”

“Oh dear.” That was so typically him. I cleared my throat and he almost leapt out of his chair, causing Joffrey to chuckle.

“Joff! Rhaenyra! How long…?” He managed to say, after recovering from his fright. Before we could answer he squinted out the window and ran his hands through his hair. “Oh… it’s past noon, isn’t it?”

“Have you even eaten?” I asked. He shook his head, glancing back to his notes and books. “Well, neither have Joffrey and I. I’ll send for some food.”

“Have you even moved from that chair?” I heard Joffrey tease as I ducked outside and flagged down a passing maid. Once our lunch order was relayed, I ducked back inside to find Joffrey laughing and Laenor blushing beet red.

“Oh, please never change,” he managed through his giggling.

“Dork,” I supplied and Laenor shook his head.

“I still do not understand such an insult,” he said.

“Ah,” said Joffrey. “But I do… and it fits so well.”

Laenor opted to take the mature route out of the conversation and stuck his tongue out at us, causing us to giggle at his expense once more.

“How does the lesson plan go?” I asked, easing up. “I hear you are setting her reading?”

“Oh yes! I got the idea from Laena.” I winced, surprised I hadn’t heard that in complaint from Alys. “She says that every rider who truly wishes to be great has to know their mount.”

“Hmmm,” was my response. “I’d set Jocelyn reading but she’d hate it… perhaps I should do the reading and drop it into our lessons.”

“Or you could read together like you did when her arm was broken,” suggested Joffrey.

“She enjoyed that,” stated Laenor. “She wouldn’t stop talking about all the different things she had read about with you.”

That brought a smile to my face, a mix of pride and happiness. 

“I’m glad, I thought it would bore her. Yes, I believe we shall have some sessions when we read together.”

“Ah,” said Laenor. “Which reminds me of some other dragon related things we need to discuss. Nothing too serious, just ground rules for how we will deal with independent riding as they grow older.”

Well, I had not thought parenting a child with access to a weapon of mass destruction would be easy…


	155. Flash Point - Chapter 131

Rhaenys returned from Dorne the next day, per the raven sent by Corlys who’d gone back a week earlier to wait for her, and Laenor insisted on delaying the meal to visit her in Driftmark. Word from Malentine, likely dictated by Corlys so he could deny it if she found out, was that she was suffering and hiding the fact.

“Who are you riding with?” I asked Joffrey as we prepared to set off. “Laena or Laenor?”

“Neither,” he replied. “Laena is taking Rhaena and Laenor is taking Aemon.”

I blinked at the change of plans before frowning in the direction of my husband, who was already opening his mouth to defend himself.

“I need to stay close to Aemma and I can’t focus with Joffrey behind me,” he explained, his ears going red. I sighed in annoyance.

“You seem intent on giving Alicent ammunition. Very well, I shall take him.” He gave me a small smile in response before eyeing Syrax suspiciously. Joffrey was not as fond as flying as the rest of us but he had come to trust Seasmoke and trust his rider. 

“I can take father!” Luke piped up. “Or Rhaena!”

“We are not changing plans now,” sighed Laena, appearing at his elbow with a scarf. “Put this on, or you will get cold.”

I glanced around and noted a good amount of my children were wearing hats, scarves and gloves. 

“I could have taken Rolph,” groused Jocelyn. “And Alys could have taken Jeyne and Aemma could have taken Aly…”

My daughter was not impressed she was being forced to leave her friends in King’s Landing under my ladies’ watchful eyes. She had thrown an hour long tantrum over the matter until being confined to her room as we sorted the details out. For their part, my wards had promised to be good.

It wasn’t as if we were even going for that long…

“Who would take Aliandra?” asked Aemma, pulling her scarf up over her face, despite the warm day.

“Luke, of course,” said Jocelyn as if it were obvious. “They are getting married.”

“I wouldn’t take her! You take her! I’ll take Rolph!” Luke screeched, his fists balling up. 

“They aren’t even coming,” said Aemon, watching them all with wide eyes. “So why are you arguing about it?”

Ah, my poor boy, stepping in to play peacekeeper between two of the most stubborn people in existence.

“Shut up, Aemon! Luke ne-” Jocelyn began.

“Enough!” I barked and several pairs of guilty eyes turned towards me. “They are staying in King’s Landing whilst we visit your grandmama!”

“Everyone begin mounting up!” called Laenor and I shot him a grateful look. Jocelyn scrambled onto Morrigan and Alyssa managed to mount Vermithor with a little more grace. It was almost comical, really, how small she was on his gargantuan back.

I winced as Aemma was fastened in by Laenor, who was calmly talking her through the different techniques. She should not be independent riding already, yet Laenor had insisted she was capable. Dreamfyre was as gentle as dragons got and already trained to respond to the whip and commands. If there was one thing I could say about Rhaena Targaryen, it was that she had not been lax in training her own dragon.

Laenor helped Aemon mount Seasmoke and fastened them both in, and himself to our son as well. Rhaena and Laena were already fastened in and behind them, Skywalker shifted with impatience. I sighed and turned to Joffrey, aware now the convoy was now waiting on me.

“Do you need help?” I asked as Syrax deigned to crouch slightly to make mounting easier for us.

“No, I can manage. Ladies first?” I smiled and clambered up, pulling myself into the saddle. Joffrey was soon up behind me and we both locked ourselves in. Skywalker was the first to go, Luke barely waiting until Joffrey was properly seated behind me to take to the skies. Jocelyn was not to be beaten however, and Morrigan soon followed. Then Vermithor and Vhagar, Laena shadowing her pupil as her daughter’s faint cries of joy could be heard.

I glanced to the side to see Laenor calling out to Aemma, coaching her through what would happen on the flight over and sighed.

“She shouldn’t be riding already,” I murmured.

“She’ll be fine. Do you think we can catch up to Luke?” At the subtle challenge I smiled. Syrax shifted beneath me as if she’d also heard and understood. A crack of my whip and Syrax answered for me as we left the beach behind and began gaining ground on my children.

Their half a minute head start was worth nothing, and Syrax soon brought us alongside Luke and Skywalker. It was well worth it to hear his cry of dismay and Joffrey’s delighted laughing. Skywalker was still the same mischievous hatchling at heart, although time had transformed him into one of the speedier dragons.

I was glad he lacked the aggression that Morrigan definitely had. The scarlet and bronze dragon was big and ready to fight although slow for her age, hence my daughter rapidly falling behind in our little race. I had seen the damn thing snap and snarl at Vermithor, of all dragons. It was a testament to how chill that dragon was that he hadn’t made a snack out of Morrigan.

Alyssa like to boast that Morrigan best mind her manners in his presence but the Bronze Fury didn’t seem to care that the younger dragon was less than polite. At least Dreamfyre wouldn’t be an issue, she was the least aggressive dragon I had ever seen. The fastest though, I reflected, as the pale blue and slender dragon began catching us up.

It wasn’t long before I could actually see Aemma, even bundled up in her layers as she was. Her face had transformed into sheer glee as Dreamfyre fell in beside Syrax, as if to tease that what was top-speed for my mount was a comfortable stroll for hers.

“Perhaps we could slow down?” said Joffrey finally.

“Getting queasy?” I asked, but signalled to Luke and Aemma anyway.

“Some of us weren’t built to hurtle around at such speed.” He sounded faintly offended.

“Don’t worry, we love you anyway.” That made him laugh and pat my shoulder.

“I should hope so,” he said. “I’m the only one among you that knows how to make good, well thought out decisions.”

I had Syrax perform a barrel roll in revenge and Joffrey sulked the entire morning it took us to reach Driftmark. I had not visited since Spicetown had been officially judged rebuilt all those years ago, and the island was still as beautiful as I remembered it. Spicetown was rebuilt in stone courtesy of the treasury, with High Tide standing proudly nearby.

My warning of what was to come had pushed Laenor to make ‘suggestions’ in the building of Spicetown. Should the Triarchy, as irrelevant as they were these days, somehow recover and assault the town… well, they would find it a much harder target to sack.

Hull, too. The city of shipwrights had been given more than a few defences as well. Laenor was determined to make Driftmark the naval capital of Westeros. Corlys had made his house rich, put his blood on the throne and given them a seat finer than all but the greatest castles. Laenor intended to build on his father’s legacy, to turn Hull into ‘the’ place to buy a ship. He wanted the speed of the Braavosi arsenal combined with the advancements in shipbuilding that the Princess Rhaenyra was just the beginning of.

We landed nearby Meleys, who was snoozing in the mid-afternoon sun, and were greeted by what passed for the Dragonkeepers on High Tide. A few distant cousins who had managed to rise to knighthood for protection and some very well-paid stableboys to ensure the area was kept clean and the dragons fed on time.

“How is mother?” asked Laenor when Laena had finished greeting our escort. “Father wrote to say her leg was paining her greatly in Dorne.”

“Yes,” said the knight, cautiously. “The lady of Driftmark has indeed been bed bound on Lord Corlys’ orders.”

“She’ll be in a fine mood then,” I said and Laena grimaced.

“Grandmama will be okay, though?” asked Aemon. Like Jocelyn, Rhaenys was given to spoiling Aemon and he was close to her as a result.

“She will be fine,” Joffrey assured him, herding Aemma and Rhaena forward. “Has she learnt of Rhaenyra’s news?”

Laenor paled at that and I fought the urge to groan. We had informed Corlys, of course, but Rhaenys had been in Dorne.

“Surely father would have informed her?” chuckled Laena, although her laugh was strained.

“He would have done,” said Laenor, although he still looked worried. Nobody wanted an earful about Rhaenys being the last to know she was to become a grandmother for the seventh time and I had run out of names that would move her to tears. 

Besides, I already knew the name of the child that grew within me, regardless of the gender. Laenor and the rest had agreed when I had told them.

We stripped ourselves of hats, gloves and scarves once we were within High Tide. When not in the air, the summer sun made it far too warm to wear them. Well, with the exception of myself. None were foolish enough to ask me to remove my gloves.

I took Aemon and Aemma’s hands as we made our way to the rooms that Corlys and Rhaenys awaited us in. The twins and Luke raced on ahead, which was typical, I suppose. All my children were no doubt eager to hear Corlys’ stories, although I was quite certain they heard them enough at home.

When we got there, the old man was drowning in hugs and Rhaenys was propped up on a low couch, her legs stretched out before her, watching with an impossibly soft smile on her face.

“Mother,” said Laenor, going straight to her and kissing her on the temple. Laena soon followed and Rhaenys greeted both her children with a wide smile.

“I’m glad to be back home,” she told us, once the children were seated and had stopped swarming all over their grandparents. “And glad to hear to news.”

Her eyes were sparkling with joy when they fixed upon me. I smiled and placed my hand over my stomach.

“I will soon be showing,” I told her. “I was showing with Aemma in the fourteenth week.”

“I can not wait,” she said quietly. “I hope for a boy but another girl would please me just as much.”

“I want a brother,” said Aemon brightly. “Maybe you could call him Baelon.”

I forced myself not to flinch at the idea. No, no child of mine would be called Baelon. I had already lost two Baelons, the name was forever ruined for me.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Or perhaps I already have another name in mind.”

“Before we start guessing,” said Corlys, forestalling that particular tangent. “Who wishes to join me in exploring High Tide? And leave the boring talk to Rhaenys and your parents?”

The children were quick to accept, wanting stories and tales of his journeys. I sighed into the silence that followed and Rhaenys chuckled.

“An excitable lot you have,” she said as Laenor moved to sit closer, his eyes ablaze with concern. “You need not look so worried.”

“You push yourself too hard,” he told her and she rolled her eyes. 

“Honestly… to think I am being mothered by my own son.”

“Grandmother would have been of the same opinion,” said Laena. “If you would just let me-”

“No,” said Rhaenys firmly. “No, even if the damn thing stops working altogether I shall not suffer magic. Neither will your father.”

Joffrey and I squirmed in the uncomfortable silence that followed. Rhaenys’ hard gaze soon softened however and she leaned forward, taking her daughter’s hand. 

“I know you mean well, my sweet girl, but magic is not a solution many would choose.” When Laena said nothing, she sighed and added. “For good reason, might I remind you. If you are not careful-”

“They already think me Visenya reborn,” she muttered. “I hear them talk, why not use it to help you? Or Rhaenyra?”

“Laena,” said Laenor softly. “Not while mother is ill.”

“I just… I can help you,” she insisted and Rhaenys chuckled.

“I know. I understand that but it is my choice.” I did not miss the pride in her gaze though, as she pulled them both close. “It is enough for me that you have both grown into a good man and a good woman and married… fairly tolerable people.”

Joffrey and I chuckled as her teasing eyes rested on us, sparkling with amusement. Yet neither of us missed the worry there. I would warrant it was directed at Laena more than Laenor. Things would come to a boil with the rumours eventually unless something was done.

I was sure of it.


	156. Flash Point - Chapter 132

We passed only a few days at Driftmark before a raven from White Harbor informed us that Forrest Frey would soon be returning, which meant it would not be long until Bennard would know beyond all doubt that his scheme had failed.

I had been half tempted to fly back alone and tell him. To be brusque on the matter, to let him know that I knew well what he desired and I would no longer be a part of his plotting and schemes. Yet I could not, for all that I might wish to. 

Bennard had been a welcome ally in the days that Rickon had been the master of the North as well as during Cregan’s regency. I had many allies there that I would not have had it not been for his support. Despite the fact that we were both using one another for our own goals, I could not deny that. I owed him more than dropping him for his nephew the moment he was no longer useful… and, in more mercenary terms, I did not want his mind thrown against me. He may not be quite the political savant his nephew was purported to be but he was still canny and he had friends in high places.

Friends that I could not afford to drive away from me. I could not see Lady Elenda abandoning my side over Bennard Stark and his failed ambition, after all she only cared so much for her niece, but it would certainly put Borros’ nose out of joint.

The travel back was blessedly free of the arguments and sulking that had made the first one something of a headache. Even if I was finding myself uncharacteristically nervous about the meeting.

“Stop worrying,” murmured Joffrey. “Even Syrax can tell you’re on edge.”

He wasn’t wrong. She was straining underneath me, wanting to go this way and that, clearly picking up on my agitation. I took a deep breath and let it out, repeating the action until Syrax calmed.

“We’ll send him back to his hole and he shall not bother us again,” Joffrey assured me. “He has risen to a lordship, he has been rewarded for his actions so far. He does not have the right to turn potential allies against you and use the Blacks to fulfil his ambitions.”

“You are correct,” I said finally. “He has been repaid for his services.”

Yet nerves still set my stomach aflutter, only growing worse as we arrived in King’s Landing, or at least our beach, and dismounted. 

“Check it properly,” Laena told Alys, who pouted and made a show of examining part of Vermithor’s harness. Not far away, Jocelyn glanced at me guiltily, bit her lip, and went over her own harness. Joffrey laid a hand on my shoulder, distracting me from Laenor’s lesson to Aemma.

“You are still worrying,” he said, sounding amused. “Do you have so little faith in me?”

“Of course not,” I grumbled. “You and Laena have shown you can master him in a way I can not.”

“Who, papa?” Joffrey jumped as Luke materialised at his elbow, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“No one, Luke,” replied Joffrey. “Just idle talk between your aunt and I.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing a word his father had just said, and turned his eyes to me. I raised an eyebrow in response and he flushed.

“I am eleven now,” he insisted. “I know all about politics.”

“Do you?” I asked and he nodded.

“Jeyne and Alysanne told me.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “About the Greens and the Blacks.”

“Please tell me you have not said that aloud?” I groaned as Joffrey grimaced. Gods, I would have to speak with Jeyne and Aly if they were being this loose with their tongues. What did they know of politics anyway? They were thirteen and twelve respectively.

“I haven’t. I only asked because Aliandra and I argued about it. She said I was an empty-headed fool!” The outrage in his voice drew Rhaena over, her little hands slipping through mine and Joffrey’s.

“I will speak with her,” I promised, before smiling down at the newcomer. 

“And do not repeat those rumours,” warned Joffrey. Luke nodded seriously.

“I do understand,” he said, sounding faintly offended. Then he turned his eyes on his sister, mischief dancing in them. I might have spoken up to warn him to cease whatever he had just decided to do when Aemon tugged on my free sleeve and I was forced to direct my attention to him.

“Could I speak with you?” he asked, worry shining through even his solemn look. I surrendered Rhaena’s hand to Joffrey and walked along the beach with my son, using the moment’s silence to simply breath. That was just six of them… and I was adding a seventh! 

Was it too late to change my mind?

“Mama,” said Aemon. “I want a dragon.”

Well, at least there aren’t any massive ones left in the pit. 

“There is no issue with that,” I said, proud it was not growled through gritted teeth. Aemon blinked slowly at me, before his mouth twisted even more with worry.

“I don’t want a dragon from the pit,” he told me. “I want one from the Dragonmont. That’s where the big ones are.”

“Six and ten,” I said warningly.

“Mama,” he said. “How can I be your heir if I wait until I am six and ten to get a dragon?”

“You act as if you will have inherited the crown by then,” I said dryly. “If the Gods are good and kind, I will still be Princess of Dragonstone when you turn six and ten.”

“You said the Gods are never kind,” he said accusingly. “I know Alyssa broke the rules when she went… but maybe I could go at ten as well? I am eight now, I can learn all about dragons for two years-”

“Aemon,” I said warningly and he gave me a heartbroken look. I winced. Damn Alys… “I will… I will speak with your father on the matter. Your grandfather too.”

“Okay, mama,” he said, looking a little more cheerful now. I winced at the anachronism. I had slipped more than a few times around my children. I half suspect it won’t be long before more than a few ‘odd’ turns of phrase become far more common. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t sneak off like Alys did. If you say no, I will not break the rules.”

I pulled him close and dropped to one knee to cuddle him properly. He was not lying, I was sure of that with sudden clarity. He’d brought the matter up away from the others because he knew that if I said no in front of the twins and Luke and Rhaena, they’d never let the matter drop, they’d beg on his behalf until both of us went mad.

“Come on,” I said. “The horses have arrived and we have a meal to attend tonight.”

“So soon?” he asked as we began walking back. “Why?”

“I have bad news to deliver to Bennard,” I told him. “But that is between you and I.”

“Of course, mama,” he said, frowning. “What bad news?”

“Lord Beron is free with all charges being dropped.” Aemon’s frown cleared.

“And you said he wanted you to move against his nephew but you can’t do that!” he said, excited.

“As Joffrey says, we’ll make a schemer of you yet.” I left him as he found his pony among the mass of animals. I mounted up and gave Laenor the parental ‘we need to talk about the kids’ look and my husband rolled his eyes but nodded.

We made good time to King’s Landing, both a blessing and a curse, as it gave me little time to mull over why I found this whole business so unsettling. Perhaps it was because there was a game being played right before me and I was a mere piece, unable to see the plans of the players? Or perhaps it was as Joffrey said and I was too caught up on who Cregan would be and not what he was now.

“Mama! Can we race!?” I jerked out of my thoughts to find Jocelyn waving at me. From just beyond her, I spied Laena, who gave me a little shake of her head. Amused, I shook my head as well.

“No! We have a dinner soon enough. I do not wish you breaking your other arm on the way home!” She blushed at the response. 

“Benjen will be coming!” teased Aemon, trotting his pony up beside her mare. I bit my lip to hide my amusement as Jocelyn went even redder and Alys cackled from atop her own mount.

“Aemon,” called Laenor. “Do not tease your sister.”

“Sorry, papa!” he called back over his shoulder. 

“We’re having another one,” I mused. “Whose good idea was that?”

“We’ll blame Corlys and have done with it,” chuckled Joffrey as Laena dropped back to ride alongside us, keeping one eye on the children.

“Perhaps he’ll be inclined to babysit more often if we so openly blame him,” I suggested, sulking slightly. Laenor snorted.

“If you offer, he’ll kidnap the poor babe,” he giggled.

“Only if it’s a boy,” said Laena sourly. “If it’s a girl, we’re stuck with her and he’ll want Rhaenyra to pop another out soon enough.”

“He isn’t that bad,” I admitted, blushing at the sudden looks I got. “Truly… he let six years go by and then only complained because Rhaenys made him.”

“I’ll concede the point,” said Laena doubtfully and I winced. Their relationship had only gotten worse in recent years. No one had missed the fact that he had barely said two words to her over the past few days… or that he had taken every excuse to leave the room after she entered it.

“Come now!” said Laenor as King’s Landing came into sight. “We shouldn’t be so grim!”

“Laenor is right,” I decided. “We should not be. We have a new babe on the way, we are making gains once again in and outside the Court and we shall soon be rid of our unwelcome guest!”

“Not to mention the dragons!” chirped Laena, her sulky feature brightening at the thought. “Having access to so many bigger ones will be wonderful research wise!”

“There is still Larys,” warned Joffrey. “And the Faith, the Maesters… Aegon.”

“There you go again,” sighed Laenor and Joffrey raised a dark eyebrow.

“I am merely reminding you.” There was a smile playing around his mouth, however. “What did Aemon wish to speak of?”

At the reminder, I groaned.

“Oh no,” laughed Laenor. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Aemon wishes for a dragon from the Dragonmont,” I told them all. “He has opened negotiations at ten.”

“Well, Alyssa has rather set the tone there,” sighed Laena. “Yet… ten is not an awful age…”

“No, do not approve of this madness,” I begged her.

“He is worried about the girls having dragons whilst he does not, isn’t he?” asked Joffrey and Laenor sighed heavily when I nodded.

“If he gets a small one from the pit, he’ll still have the same problem. Even Morrigan would be bigger…” At Laenor’s statement, I ran an agitated hand through my hair and sighed.

“If we say yes now, we have two years to ensure he does not fail,” said Laena. “Two years to tip the scales in his favour.”

“Two years for him to change his mind,” said Joffrey and I narrowed my eyes at them all. Yet the whole business with Aemma, my realisation that I could not let fear rule me when it came to my children and their future…

“If you all approve, I will not stand against you.” It did not mean I could not accept it all with bad grace though. Laenor urged his horse forward and dropped a kiss onto my cheek. From somewhere in front of us, the sound of Rhaena and Aemma ‘awwwww’ing did not quite drown out Jocelyn pretending to gag and Luke teasing her over it.

“Perhaps I should bestow a kiss on my husband,” said Laena, loudly. “To show him how much I love him.”

“No, mama! That’s fine!” said Luke loudly and Jocelyn’s fake gags became loud guffaws and even Alyssa snickered at his discomfort. 

“To think my wife only wishes to kiss me when she wants to embarrass our children,” sighed Joffrey mournfully despite looking supremely unbothered.

“I’ll kiss you, papa!” said Rhaena, excitedly, making Laena grin widely and Joffrey stick his tongue out at her.

Yet my good mood evaporated almost instantly as we passed into King’s Landing. Time to face Bennard and send him running.


	157. Flash Point - Chapter 133

Two months passed by almost comfortably. There was no urgency, no impending disasters or plots to send us all scrambling desperately to foil them. 126 AC became 127 AC with little fanfare beyond the usual celebrations. Yet again, it was the Starks that prevented me from having a truly good time, though. Bennard had left the city the day after we had informed him of Beron’s release. He was angry about the matter, yet desperately trying to pretend he was not, trying to convince us all he was truly pleased that his nephew had seen sense and that his goodfather was safe.

Cregan was another matter entirely. We had exchanged a few letters with one another, he had written to tell me of the North and of the troubles he was discovering in becoming a ruler so soon, although I suspect he carefully kept any mention of more political trouble out of his missives. I had written back to tell him of my pregnancy, the details of my bureaucracy and amusing stories from court.

It was a start, I suppose.

Oh how I wish I could have had what Robert had, although I suppose I was not too far off these days when it came to establishing my own STAB alliance. The Vale was my ally, along with the Stormlands, a good chunk of the Riverlands and some of the North. The danger of the Reach was contained, and soon to be further so if Arabella consented to the match, while there was a pretty good chance of Dorne actively siding with me in any conflict.

I was just missing my quiet, competent and above all, loyal Stark to call upon should disaster strike. Not that I was sure I would ever trust Cregan to bail me out of trouble, the original Rhaenyra had bet on that and she’d ended up as dragon food.

“You are brooding again.” Sabitha’s teasing cut into my thoughts and I glanced up from the book I had been reading on the life and times of Septon Barth to fix her with a raised eyebrow.

“How do you know I am not merely reading?” I asked and she grinned, stretching in her seat by the open window.

“You’re a pretty fast reader, Princess, and you haven’t turned that page over in almost half an hour.” I sighed and closed the book, annoyed it was so obvious.

“Do you not have a husband to bother, Sab?” I asked, leaning forward to enjoy the cool breeze and the scent of flowers it brought into the room.

“He’s off with Ser Laenor,” came Maris’ dry observation as she pushed open the door, frightening the life from both Sab and I. She was carrying a pitcher of juice, something I gratefully accepted before leaning back.

“If you are not careful, he may choose to spend more time with Laenor than you,” I teased. Sab snorted in derision at the idea.

“Small chance of that. Forrest is devoted to me,” she boasted. I did sometimes wonder about the finer details of their marriage. He seemed genuinely fond of her yet she saw him as a close friend at best. Perhaps it was best not to throw stones… 

Maris smiled fondly at me before her eyes travelled down to my rounded stomach.

“How is he doing?” she asked.

“Again you insist he is a he,” I pointed out dryly. “No one could know for sure.”

Sab leaned forward, sharing a grin with Maris and I sighed.

“He is active enough to put the twins to shame,” I admitted. “Although I am glad he did not feel the need to make me sick to my stomach like they did, despite our rocky start.”

“Laenor must be over the moon,” said Maris. “It certainly has Harwin considering a fourth. Sometimes I think he merely wishes to beat Laenor when it comes to children. Still, I shall not complain.”

She ended her statement by waggling her eyebrows. Sabitha cackled and I snorted in amusement as Maris gave a satisfied smirk, dropping into the seat opposite me.

“Laenor can not wait to feel the baby himself again,” I told them. “You know what he is like, he acts as if every new babe is his first.”

“It is somewhat amusing to watch but I warrant you’ll have the rest of them glued to you as well,” pointed out Sab. “Gods know Walder and little Denys were like that when I first got pregnant with Manfryd.”

I carefully didn’t react at the idea of a Walder Frey. I knew in canon that Manfryd would end up as Lord Frey, that something would happen to his cousins and his uncle, but I wasn’t sure what. 

“What about your little madams?” asked Maris. “How do they feel on the matter?”

“Curious, although Aliandra is sulking if you must know,” I told them, with a sigh.

“Again?” asked Sab. “I thought her attitude improved after you gave her permission to-”

“It’s not that she chafes against my rules,” I insisted, interrupting. “It is her betrothal.”

I was half ready to charge father and beg him to reconsider. I had a long time ago promised Joffrey land for Luke to inherit. He did not need to be prince consort of Dorne… yet father would not bend on the matter now, I knew that for sure. So Joffrey and I were tackling the matter directly. He would speak with Luke and I with Aliandra and with any hope we could work the matter out.

Yet those talks only brought me guilt. How could I tell a girl who hadn’t even hit puberty yet that her life had been decided from the moment she was three? That she would be forever shackled to a man based entirely on how effectively others believed he could control her… relating the tale of my own marriage, or at least a heavily edited one, had done little to mollify her. Neither had suggesting compromises, paramours and friendship between the two.

Aliandra wanted control and I could not give her that. Not over her marriage or over her future husband. In turn, Joffrey reported that Luke wanted to follow in Corlys’ footsteps and that he believed adventure would not come easily if he were bound to a woman that already hated him. Both viewed their betrothal as punishment and neither believed they deserved it.

What a mess… and as time went on, as they grew closer to Aliandra flowering, there was less chance of me annulling the betrothal. Father would want her wedded and bedded the moment she had flowered, no matter her actual age. 

“Luke is a finer match than she deserves,” said Maris with uncharacteristic harshness. “A dragon rider and cousin to the future king.”

“I thought you liked the girl,” said Sab, eyebrows threatening to disappear into her hairline, preempting my own startled question. 

“I do but she acts as if the universe has conspired to do her some great injustice. She is a princess, a ruler of one of the Seven Kingdoms, she has the favour of the future Queen and has grown up with the future King. She could have Luke wrapped around her pretty little finger tomorrow.” Ah. 

“As opposed to someone we know,” I started, ignoring the look on Maris’ face. “Whose family screwed up, was cast into disgrace and clawed her way up from there, relying on favour won years before that might have been withdrawn at any point.”

“Who is now richer than most lordlings, with an excellent marriage and three beautiful boys,” added Sab. Maris went red before pursing her lips.

“Perhaps you ought to speak with her then,” I mused. “The Seven know I am not having much luck.”

“Perhaps I shall,” said Maris.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Sab, smiling broadly. “If she gains half of Maris’ ambition she’s liable to become a terror.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Maris, sounding almost offended.

“It means we all know who will be ruling the roost in Harrenhal one day and it’s certainly not Harwin,” I said dryly, and even Maris snickered at that. “Come, try and convince me you do not already have plans.”

She couldn’t, going red once more, as Sabitha dissolved into giggles at her expense.

“Ser Simon lets me look over the finances when we are there,” she told us. “The damn castle is ruinous and the land barely supports it. I intend to hire one of your architects and see if he can not create a somewhat passable plan of restoration that would see costs cut down to size. I would even go so far as to tear down the bits that can not be restored…”

“And if you do so during my time as Queen, I’ll give you a hefty discount on the taxes you’ll pay for it.” Maris’ eyes narrowed at that.

“Perhaps I could convince my Queen to be even more generous and waive the tax entirely?” she purred. I might have made some sarcastic response, but a knock on the door interrupted me and I stood, Joffrey opening it before I could. His face was pale with worry and it sent my stomach plummeting.

“What is wrong?” I demanded. “The children-”

“Are fine,” he finished, interrupting me before stepping inside the room and letting the door swing shut behind him. 

“Then what…” I let the question trail off as he leaned against the wall and scrubbed at his face. “You bring bad news from further afield?”

Jeyne? She had her fair share of troubles lately. I had thought them long behind her when her men crushed those rebels… yet we truly did not know who had funded them even now… could someone have-

“It’s Lady Tyrell,” said Joffrey.

“She has selected the Florent? You needn’t be so grave about it.” When he didn’t answer, my stomach plummeted lower. “She did not select the Florent, did she?”

“No, she intended to betroth Lyonel to Aemma as we suggested.” I did not like the fact that he was using the past tense to refer to her. Understanding was beginning to trickle through me and I swallowed, trying to compose myself.

“Tell me, Joffrey, how obvious was her assassination?” From the corner of my eye, I saw that both Sab and Maris were also focused on him now.

“Very,” he confirmed. “She went hunting with her kinsmen and a few guests she was hosting. A cousin of House Mullendore managed to put an arrow through her arm.”

“Not traditionally fatal,” I pointed out, slowly. He grimaced.

“The wound became infected. She lingered a mere three days before passing.” I forced myself to breathe deeply, fighting the urge to throw something. I was twenty nine, nearly thirty, I had long since outgrown tantrums.

“Her Maester allowed this?” I asked. “Here I thought they had mastered the art of healing.”

“Unless another Maester complains to the Citadel directly, it will not be investigated,” Joffrey sighed.

“And none will,” I spat. Unlike Gerardys, Arabella’s Maester likely had rock solid protection. Was he an incompetent, missing poison on the arrow? Or was he the poisoner, ensuring Arabella passed from this world with little fuss or suspicion? “Maris, can you put about the details of her death?”

“Make it clear the Maester’s refusal to acknowledge College innovations have claimed lives? Yes, yes, I can do that.” She smiled and it was not a pleasant smile. I suspect the maesters would be set to lose even more reputation among the smallfolk soon enough. Their name was already mud as it was.

Sometimes being beloved of the smallfolk could be a boon, especially if your close friends had access to many bards, all willing to trash your enemies.

“How long until King’s Landing at large knows?” I asked. Jeffrey shrugged.

“There is some dispute on who should take over the regency,” he told me. “As like as not, they will end up here soon.”

“They?” I asked, frowning and Joffrey grimaced.

“The Hightowers and our old friend, Alan Tarly.” I leaned forward and scrubbed my face in my hands before heaving a sigh. Alan was a good man, truly he was, he was just… enthusiastic. He worshipped the ground Laena walked on, or flew over, after she had prevented his father’s body and Heartsbane from falling into Dornish hands. Conversely, he hated the Hightowers, Ormund Hightower in particular. The Lord of Horn Hill blamed Ormund for his father’s death and had been known to imply, but never say, that Ormund had planned the whole thing.

I did not know how true that was. From what Laena had told me of her time serving with him, I suspected he was simply incompetent.

“Alan Tarly as regent of the Reach,” I groaned into my hands. “The Seven save us.”

“He may be our best bet to get that betrothal,” warned Joffrey. I sighed again.

“Throw our support behind him,” I ordered. “If the Tyrells stay neutral on the matter of succession, it will only encourage those under them to bargain for their support.”

“I will dedicate myself to the matter,” Joffrey promised.

“I will too,” said Maris. “I can already think of quite a few choice rumours to have running about the court.”

“I almost feel sorry for whomever they send,” I said, not meaning it at all. 

“No you don’t,” chuckled Sab. “And I don’t either. Nail the bastards.”


	158. Interlude - Aegon

“Lady Arabella Tyrell is dead.”

He stopped cleaning himself and turned to stare at his brother.

“That’s not possible,” he said, voice still ragged with recent exertion. Gawen Westerling had put up quite the fight. “She was in excellent health-”

“A hunting accident.” The tone Aemond used made it clear what he thought of that excuse. A mix of emotions ran through him then and he placed the cloth he had been using down gently, trying to control the sudden anger. Yet it was not just anger that had his hands shaking, it was guilt too… No. No, he would not fall prey to this. He had to be better than this.

“It was not our sister, was it?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He didn’t need to see Aemond shaking his head but he forced himself to watch anyway, to acknowledge why Arabella had died. He’d only met her a few times, truly. She had been a sweet woman, a Florent by birth if he remembered rightly, and she had truly loved her husband despite his flaws. 

She loved her son too. Lyonel Tyrell was very young, utterly reliant on his mother, and she had sought the best match she could for him. Little Aemma, if rumour were to be believed. No, Rhaenyra would not have killed Arabella. Which only left one suspect…

“Mother,” he said finally, wanting to weep and rage in equal measure.

“It seems more the snake’s doing,” said Aemond, tone carefully free of any emotion. 

“But she gave the order.” He ran a hand through his hair as Aemond watched him. His brother snorted. “The snake only obeys.”

“The snake obeys as long as it pleases him yet I could not see her not knowing,” he finally said. “You’ve been spending too much time with our sister.”

The non-sequitur made him blink in surprise. It took Aemond miming running his hand through his hair for him to realise he had fallen into copying her mannerisms again. His brother chuckled as he let his hand fall to his side but the chuckle was strained.

“What am I going to do, Aems?” he asked, quietly. “She’ll burn my cause to the ground before I can even begin. What man would follow a dishonourable cur?”

“Plenty,” said Aemond dryly and he gave him a pained smile. He knew well that men’s hearts were not always true, that sometimes ambition drove even the honourable to actions far beneath their station. 

“Take her in hand,” urged Aemond. “She wants you to be King, be one. Make her see-”

“I can make her see nothing,” he sighed. He had been trying since he had returned. He knew father had stolen his throne from him when he had proclaimed Rhaenyra his heir. That was the full extent on which he and his mother agreed. “You know well we argue the matter constantly.”

Aemond shrugged at that. His brother was not terribly interested in politics but he’d follow him to the end of time itself if he asked. None other would be so loyal; his strong right hand.

“Rhaenyra will be well wroth,” sniffed Aemond. “She will be looking to point fingers.”

He did know that. He knew his sister better than she could even guess. He’d studied her, studied her actions. Back then, it was because he’d believed she would kill him if she got the chance. That she would make it slow, make it painful, because she hated him for what he represented. He had believed that because he was a threat, she would kill him, his siblings and any children he should have.

That wasn’t true, he knew that now. His sister had a woman’s heart. She would sooner lose her arm than kill him or his siblings. She loved them fiercely, he knew this, he had seen her pride when he’d claimed Frost. Seen how much she adored Helaena, how she understood Aemond in a way others refused to do…

The old frustration boiled within him, only adding to the anger and guilt. 

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“Aegon, we need to do something about her.” The whine in Aemond’s voice wasn’t about Rhaenyra, he knew. It was their mother. It was always about their mother. She had made the world terrifying for them and she their only refuge. When she had lost in her games, they had suffered instead of her. She had told them they would be forgotten in their fosterings, that their father hated them and that it was Rhaenyra’s fault…

“How is Daeron?” he asked, pulling himself away from those memories and the pain they always brought him. He was a man now, he would not be consumed by childish fears.

“The same as ever,” his brother growled, glaring at his boots. “She had too much time to poison him.”

“Helaena says much the same of Viserra,” he told Aemond, picking the cloth up again and forcing himself to be calm. A man, especially a man who would be king, could not be ruled by his frustrations. He should lead by example, that was what Lord Jason had told him. Aemond waited in silence as he finished cleaning himself and pulled on a clean shirt and doublet.

It gave him time to think, at least. What could he do? His mother had likely ordered a good woman’s death yet he had no proof. The snake had likely been the one to carry it out yet he had no proof of that either. His sister was intent on stealing his throne yet it was not her crime but his fathers’, the king who had raised her up in defiance of law and tradition.

His father said the king’s word was law, that his will should be obeyed, yet he’d risen to his own position on the back of the lords that had elected him over Ser Laenor and Princess Rhaenys. He spat on their will and had all but forced his sister into being his accomplice!

“Aemond,” he said slowly. “See if some of our more like-minded friends wish to take a ride with me this evening.”

He would not plot. Plotting in the shadows was for women and those less than men. He was a knight, he was a prince and he would one day be king. It would be done honourably… which is not to say it would be done foolishly.

“What are we hunting?” Aemond asked, his eyes shining bright. He smiled grimly at his brother.

“Snakes,” he replied, reaching down and buckling on his sword belt. Aemond gave him a fierce grin. 

“We should invite our sister,” he said. “Rumour has it she dislikes him as much as we do.”

“She has her own,” he said shortly, thinking of the Knight of Kisses. If even half the stories were true about the man, he made a mockery of the title of knight with his every breath. To think his sister held him so close… another crime he could lay at father’s feet. She would not associate with such a cur if father had not placed her in danger. He reached for his cloak.

Aemond merely grunted. Aemond only cared about their mother’s creature, after all. There were some days he thought Aemond might hate their mother. His resentment seemed almost perpetual in comparison to Hela’s and his own, that came and went like the tides. A man should not hate his own mother, he should honour her, yet in the dark of the night it was harder to tell himself that.

“She opposed his appointment, did she not?” he said, forcing those thoughts away again. Why did they dog him so? Why did every thought eventually drag him back to her? It was almost constant. 

“She knows he is mother’s,” said Aemond, opening the door as he finished fastening his cloak over his shoulder. “She knows what mother will use him for.”

“Then we shall visit our sister before we meet for our hunt and ask her if she has any further concerns on the matter,” he decided, falling into the deniable doublespeak they used when they were not certain they were alone. “It will be easier to tackle our plans for an even greater gathering if we control the planning committee.”

“If she had any further concerns, she would have acted on them,” said Aemond. He grimaced. That was true. “She has no love for snakes.”

“Again I might point out she has one of her own,” he said dryly and Aemond smiled.

“And I might point out that rumour says she keeps him around for a very different purpose.” He blushed like a man not wedded and bedded, who did not have a babe on the way, and Aemond roared with laughter, earning them some strange looks from the servants.

“Aemond,” he hissed, annoyed. “Our sister is not some harlot.”

His brother didn’t answer, just snickered to himself, more pleased by his reaction than the implication of the joke. He had heard both sets of rumours surrounding Joffrey Velaryon’s rise to father and husband of dragons from mere second son of a minor Storm Lord. What rot! The man may be a dishonourable dog, but his sister and Ser Laenor were not. 

“I bid you goodbye here, brother, I have a hunt to plan and a squire to take in hand.” He clasped Aemond on the shoulder and embraced him briefly.

“Be swift,” he said, picturing Lady Arabella’s face. “Matters may escalate if we do not act soon.”

“Do not worry, brother,” said Aemond, his features becoming serious. “I will do as you ask. We shall put a stop to this deadly bickering between women.”

He hoped that true. He was not sure how much more of the Princess and the Queen Westeros could take.


	159. New Life - Chapter 134

How could words from a stranger ever comfort you when you lose your mother? Lyonel was even younger than I was when Aemma Arryn had died. I could recall the weeks afterwards with crystal clear clarity. The grief, the horror… the constant barrage of condolences from men and women that had never even met her. How insincere they’d seemed then. For every lordling that had sent genuine words, there were five more that had likely only sent such words to see what opportunities the situation might bring them.

My body may have been seven but I had not missed the women pouring into the capital, all full of false grief whilst draping themselves in finery to hopefully catch the eye of a king. 

I could picture what Highgarden would look like now. Those with any blood tying them to Lyonel through his mother or father would be pouring in, each insisting only they could protect him. Hightower and Tarly troops ‘patrolling’ to ensure nothing went wrong as they anxiously awaited father’s decision on the matter.

Would the boy lord know his mother was murdered or would he buy their explanation of an accident? I could hardly tell him myself, I had no proof for one, only a suspicion that Alicent had ordered his mother’s death based on timing and implausibility. 

Others would see that too, I had no doubt the whispers would already have begun. I would have to take my Blacks in hand, especially if Alan Tarly had emerged as their leader. He was the type to consider revenge killings. I made a note to enquire what had happened to the Mullendore that had fired the arrow.

I sighed and put the quill aside, staring at the page, blank of any comforting words and instead scrawled with my thoughts and reminders. What would the words of a princess he had never met do for Lyonel really? A knock on the door interrupted my brooding quite neatly.

“Come,” I called and the door opened to reveal a maid.

“Your Grace,” she started, “Your brothers are downstairs awaiting you.”

Did Aegon already know? I rose from my desk.

“Thank you for letting me know. I will attend to them shortly.” She bowed and left, shutting the door behind her. What could Aegon want? Wait… she had said brothers, plural, Aemond too? Neither were plotters and schemers so what were they up to?

I could not believe Aegon would be involved in Arabella’s death, even if I was certain his mother was. He was honourable, as much as I wanted to laugh at the idea. He was not the type to poison, he was the type to challenge a man to a duel and fight him fairly, to let him pick up another blade if he disarmed him… Aemond may be more flexible in his morals but again, he was the direct type. If he wanted you dead, he’d pick up the blade and do it, and damn any who tried to get in his way.

No, I was thinking into this too much. They probably weren’t even here about Arabella. Merely visiting their pregnant sister, which they were wont to do on occasion. I stroked my swollen belly thoughtfully before making for the door, grimacing as the little one made sure I knew of their presence as I reached the stairs.

Aegon and Aemond were indeed waiting for me within, dressed in leathers and cloaks.

“Did I miss some invitation?” I asked, jokingly. Aegon smiled and rose as I entered, Aemond’s eyes following me coolly. My brother did not sit again until I was seated.

“We intend a hunt later, that is all,” said Aegon.

“A little late,” I pointed out. “The sun will be setting by the time you make the forest, even if you leave now.”

“That is the point, sister,” said Aemond. “We are not hunting normal prey.”

The way he said it had me wanting to shiver. Instead, I forced my smile to remain in place, looking askance at Aegon. My brother blushed under my look and shot Aemond an annoyed look.

“You might have been more tactful,” he muttered before turning back to me. “Aemond speaks truly. We hunt snakes.”

“Snakes,” I repeated, doubtfully. “Forgive me, unless you speak metaphorically, I doubt you will find much prey this close to King’s Landing.”

“We speak metaphorically,” Aegon assured me and I wanted to groan. What had happened now? Why were they here? As if I did not have enough to worry about with Alicent blatantly murdering the regent of the Reach!

“Then you will drown in them. This city is a nest of them and you would do well to leave the matter to those best equipped to deal with them.” I could already tell my warning would not work. They were fired up… who were they even hunting? “Do you have a specific snake in mind?”

“Yes,” said Aemond. “Larys Strong.”

The smile did die from my face then and Aegon looked triumphant.

“I knew it! You do know who he is!” He was Alicent’s… why did Aegon seek his downfall? Confusion slithered through me.

“Of course I do.” My tone was icier than I intended and I hurried to correct it. “He is yours though, why do you hunt him?”

Aegon scowled at his boots and I had to marvel at such a swift change in his handsome features.

“You see,” he said, turning to Aemond. “This is why we must rid ourselves of him. The people think him mine.”

“He is not?” I asked. “Yet it is your cause he serves.” 

“He serves mother,” spat Aemond. “Not Aegon.”

“Is there a difference?” I asked, part of me begging myself to stop talking, to ally with them, and to not push the matter. 

“Yes,” said Aegon, firmly. “I will not rise to the throne through dishonourable actions.”

“You have heard of Lady Tyrell’s fate,” I guessed and both of them nodded, faces grim.

“We thought to speak with her ourselves,” explained Aegon. “But she chose you. We would have abided by that…”

“Your mother would not have done,” I said. “But I confess… this is overt. Very overt. She plays the longer game, the quiet game.”

“It is not a game!” Aegon burst out. “It is real people! Lady Arabella is dead!”

“I am sorry, you are correct,” I said, a flash of guilt making the apology genuine.

“Besides,” said Aemond. “Does it matter what game she plays? There is no other that benefited, and mother has her snake. All she had to do was suggest to him life would be easier without Lady Arabella in it.”

“Which is why,” said Aegon. “We want him gone.”

“And you came to me,” I said. “I will not deny I want him gone too but… it is out of my hands.”

“You have nothing on him?” asked Aegon, his voice full of frustration. “What about your Knight? Does he have any information? Any proof?”

The way he said ‘Knight’ seemed to convey the capital letters associated with it and I frowned.

“My knight,” I repeated slowly and Aemond smirked as Aegon’s frown only deepened. “Which knight do you mean? I have many in my service.”

“He means the Knight of Kisses,” said Aemond, smirk growing. “The one who disappears people and sneaks around so you don’t have to.”

“Joffrey does not disappear people!” I lied indignantly. “And he is a perfectly respectable man. Just because he is crippled-”

“Let’s not argue,” said Aegon, looking at me as if he was gravely disappointed in me. Ugh, he looks like father when he’s like that and it was like getting caught kicking a puppy. “We must focus on Larys.”

“He is… slippery.” I wrestled with my thoughts for a moment. Should I tell them of his true obsession? That he only cared about Joffrey? That if they truly bothered him, he would have them killed and damn what Alicent thought on the matter? “He… Aegon, listen to me, he is your mother’s ally, but not her subordinate.”

“He has his own goals then?” he asked. “I do not know if I should be comforted or horrified.”

“You should be on your guard. You are nothing to him and Aemond is even less. Should you rouse his anger…”

“He will have us killed,” said Aemond, scowling. “Let him send his assassins, I can handle any who would threaten Aegon.”

“And if he tries to poison me?” asked Aegon dryly before frowning. “But I understand your warning, sister, and I thank you for it.”

“But you will not give up?” I guessed, sighing heavily. He shook his head.

“I can not suffer such a dishonourable bastard associated with my name.” The stubborn set to his mouth told me I could do little to dissuade him from this. I wanted to groan but restrained myself, instead nodding in return. “When I bring proof of his misdeeds to father, I assume you will back me up.”

“You will find little proof,” I told him. “But if, by the will of the Seven you do, I will back you up.”

Aegon sighed in relief before rising. This time, Aemond followed him up.

“Thank you, sister,” he said, earnestly. “Maybe once Larys is gone, you can get rid of your own snake.”

“Again, Joffrey is a perfectly nice man,” I told them. Aegon gave me that look of disappointment again. “Aegon, he has two children!”

“He has indeed risen high,” said Aegon. “I know you feel you need him to be safe, sister, I do not fault you for that. But when we have vanquished Larys, he will not be necessary. Keep that in mind.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked, tone cold again. He blinked, looking unsure.

“No,” said Aemond. “He just thinks you don’t actually like Ser Joffrey.”

“He is my goodbrother and good friend,” I insisted.

“More, if you believe mother,” snorted Aemond before catching my annoyed look and adding quickly, “Not that I do.”

“Aemond, we spoke about this,” warned Aegon before turning back to me. “We shall depart sister, else we shall be late for our hunt.”

I dropped a distracted kiss to his cheek and then Aemond’s. Both of them looked determined, eyes shining with excitement. Once they were safely gone I dropped onto a couch and very carefully did not scream in frustration.

Damn those empty-headed idiots! A moment later, I rang the bell and a maid appeared soon after.

“Tell me, is Ser Joffrey in today?” I asked.

“Yes, Your Grace, he is in his office. Would you like me to fetch him for you?” she asked.

“No, no, that is quite all right,” I told her. “Have some fruit tea sent to us though. I wish to talk over some matters with him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” After she had gone, I rose and trooped off to Joffrey’s office. There wasn’t much sound from within, then again, there never was. He liked his peace and quiet, it gave him time to think as he went through the many reports he had to sift through to stay on top of the intelligence game. I knocked with a sigh.

“Come!” he called, and I entered. He smiled when he saw me and it seemed to me he should wear glasses. It was such an irreverent thought, I giggled. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Not at all, I am merely in a strange mood.” He frowned at that and I sat in the seat across from him. “A strange mood for a strange day. Aegon just left.”

Joffrey put his report down and I received his full focus. My explanation was cut off by the maid arriving with tea, however. Once we had sent her away with our thanks, I ran through Aegon and Aemond’s visit. By the end of it, I was certain he had given himself a concussion from the many facepalms.

“They’re going to get themselves killed,” was his response when I finally finished. “Mother’s mercy, they have no sense of tact or subtlety.”

“No, they do not,” I agreed, sipping my tea. “I want you to keep an eye on them.”

“Easier said than done,” said Joffrey, rubbing his eyes.

“Is there no knight in his retinue with a taste for pretty girls?” I asked. “Or a taste for gambling what he can not afford.”

“Plenty,” said Joffrey. “Even if they try to keep it quiet…. Hmmm, perhaps the Farman boy…”

“I don’t want Aegon to get himself hurt,” I said. “He may have his head firmly lodged up his own behind but he is my brother.”

“I understand,” said Joffrey. “I think you are being hopeful on the matter but I understand.”

“Thank you,” I said, slumping in my seat, before remembering a certain detail of his visit. “You have well earned his ire though.”

Joffrey snorted.

“I have earned the ire of many. He is not the first and he will not be the last.”

“Still,” I laughed. “Perhaps you ought to make sure you don’t become the subject of your own snake hunt.”

“Then I will be most diligent in that task,” he said, tone clear he was mocking me. “Now, do we intend to meet tomorrow in our usual time and place?”

Any pretence of work dissolved from there, giving way to court gossip and jokes.


	160. New Life - Chapter 135

As Joffrey had predicted, Alan Tarly and Ormund Hightower soon presented themselves at Court, each vying for the right to assume the title of regent for Lyonel Tyrell. According to them, Arabella had left no written will and the young lord could hardly be trusted to pick his own regent from the mass of men and women that surrounded him, each claiming his favour and fighting for his attention. In addition to the Tarlys and the Hightowers, the Florents had also arrived. They argued Arabella’s will was clear. She had wanted her cousin, Lord Desmond Florent, to become regent for Lyonel in the event of her death as she mistrusted the rest of the lords, fearing they would use Lyonel.

I had to admit that seemed true enough, even Lord Alan was only interested in the title for the power it would give him to check the Hightowers.

“The matter seems obvious to me,” said Edmund. “Ormund Hightower is a proven commander and has spent his entire life tirelessly serving the Reach and its overlords.”

“The matter is not obvious,” said Corlys. “That is the issue. Too many feel this unfortunate death is being used to advance Hightower power at the expense of the Tyrells, who still rule the Reach last I checked.”

Edmund’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering about for support. Larys seemed amused and Jasper… well, I was fairly sure Jasper was still attempting to avoid Elenda’s notice when it came to his political leanings.

“If I may,” said Lord Jasper. “Why not bring the boy here? If the families of the Reach insist on pulling the boy this way and that, perhaps he should be removed altogether. We have precedent to justify it, after all, in the form of Aliandra Martell.”

Not the worst idea, I suppose. 

“The Reach Lords would complain endlessly about such a move,” said Larys, smiling in that same manner he always did. “They would see it as an attempt to seize more power and oversight of the Reach.”

“And half the Reach would see a Hightower regency as a Hightower coup,” said Corlys, sourly.

“As if Lord Alan Tarly is any better?” asked Maester Edmund. “The man is known for… questionable associations, as I am sure you know, Lord Corlys.”

“And what does that mean?” asked Corlys, his voice dangerously low. I forced my own neutral, somewhat bored expression to remain fixed in place.

“Enough!” barked Viserys. “If you can not be civil, do not speak. I would thank you, Edmund, to not cast aspersions on my kinswoman.”

The Maester flushed and mumbled an apology, yet Corlys still looked as if he wished to leap across the table and strangle the man. Even the Hand, so quiet these days, was giving him an icy look.

“A fostering with the Crown is not a terrible idea,” I said, and the eyes of the table turned to me. “Lord Lyonel will need consistency and guidance, could a Reach in turmoil truly offer that?”

“But who would foster him?” asked Larys. “Yourself?”

“The King, of course,” I replied. “Or the Lord Hand. I am afraid, Lord Strong, that I already have far too many young people to watch over.”

I followed up by patting my belly. As if on cue, the little one began his activities. Viserys smiled indulgently at me, before stroking his moustache in thought as the others chuckled.

“I fear Lord Strong is right,” said Lyman. “Too many Reach Lords would not see the Crown as neutral in the fostering.”

I blinked, turning my wide eyed look of betrayal to Lyman. The old man met my gaze evenly, almost apologetically, before turning back to my father, who nodded sadly. Lyman rarely offered his opinion on matters not directly linked to the economy or the treasury. 

“Whom, then?” father murmured. “I will make my decision tonight and deliver it tomorrow. Rhaenyra, walk with me?”

I rose and followed him, our arms linking together as we ambled out over a familiar balcony. This was where he had taken me to task for the first time all those years ago. How I’d cursed him then, how I’d raged at the injustice of it all. To think I’d been so shocked that of all people, the King should be more than a problem to be planned around and not my greatest supporter.

“This is a bad business,” father said finally. “A bad business indeed.”

“I agree. I am watching them all carefully.” Father snorted in derision at that.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said finally. “You are of mind with me, then? Her death was… preventable?”

“Preventable in the same way assassinations are,” I said.

“You speak boldly.” I could hear the faint disapproval in his tone.

“She had just agreed to have Lyonel and Aemma meet,” I replied and he let my arm drop, bringing his hand up to rub at his eyes. “Might I remind you who the Mullendores are sworn to.”

“You bring my accusations with no proof again, Rhaenyra,” he said icily.

“I merely point out the timing was extremely fortuitous for Hightower interests.” He scowled at me. “The Mullendore that loosed the arrow has been sent to Braavos in exile. A nice fat deposit in an account at the Iron Bank for him-”

“Larys has told me none of this,” Viserys interrupted, eyes narrowed. “Does your man tell you differently?”

“You know he does,” I replied. “Just as you know in your heart why Larys has not told you the truth of the matter.” 

Challenging him like this was wrong and very, very dangerous. If I wasn’t careful, he would rage and rant. He would punish me, whether by barring my from the Small Council for a while or worse, sending me to Dragonstone to stew for a few weeks. What had made so bold and reckless lately? What was pushing me into using my words like my knives, flung with the intent to harm? I curled my hand around my stomach.

“I have had enough of this argument,” he told me, voice low with warning.

“Then let us not argue father,” I suggested, backing away from the metaphorical ledge. He stared at me for a good long while before extending his arm again. I winced at how stony his face had gone and how stiff his posture was. “I am sorry.”

It felt wrong to apologise when he was the blind one but… I had been indiscreet. I needed him onside more than ever and I needed him to think well of me. It must have worked because he relaxed by a small degree.

“You must understand,” said Viserys quietly. “By casting such aspersions on Larys, you cast them on Lyonel and Harwin as well.”

“I find no fault with them,” I protested. “It is him.”

“Yet you have no proof,” my father pointed out and I sighed. “If I take you at your word, with no proof, then I am no better than Maegor. He is a talented man, I can not fault him for playing politics when you have half the Court doing so.”

Not quite half the Court these days. Actually, these days, it was barely a quarter but I saw the rebuke for what it was.

“I understand,” I said. “He will slip up eventually and I will have proof. I just do not understand why you welcome him to the Small Council when you know he is Alicent’s creature.”

“Alicent is fighting a battle she lost years ago,” said Viserys. “You think your brother will usurp you?”

“He wants that Council,” I replied. 

“I am aware,” said Viserys calmly. “He will not get it in my life or yours. He will not move against you otherwise. Am I wrong?”

“If Alicent forces his hand-”

“She will not,” said Viserys firmly. “He is too good a man to let himself be blackmailed into doing so. Now, let us change the subject.”

“The regency,” I said. “That is what you wished to discuss?”

“Yes. What do you think?” He watched me carefully, his eyes speculative. It took me a moment to realise that this was some sort of test to him. I turned my attention to King’s Landing, laid out before us and pursed my lips.

“Not Ormund,” I said. “The Hightowers are already too powerful within the Reach. Before we know it, the Tyrells will be another extension of their rule.”

Father said nothing. What answer did he expect? He watched my with those violet eyes that gave nothing away. Since when had he been so good at hiding his feelings?

“The Florents…” I hesitated. In truth, they were likely the best choice beyond a royal fostering. They would protect him but… but I would almost certainly lose my betrothal. “I would choose the Tarlys, father. Lord Alan has every virtue Ormund supposedly has and lacks the issues of a Hightower regent.”

Father said nothing for a while and then he sighed deeply.

“I’m a little disappointed, if I am honest.” I stared at him, wanting to rage or cry and caught between the two instincts. “Tarly is a firebrand. He’d set the Reach on fire or die trying.”

“But he is loyal,” I insisted and father smiled sadly.

“To you, not to Lord Lyonel. The boy would likely die in his care and I think you know that.” Father was exaggerating but he wasn’t entirely wrong either. Alan would clash with the Hightowers over everything… “I will be announcing the regency has been given to House Florent tomorrow.”

“Yes, father,” I said, bile rising in my throat along with frustration. What the hell had he just sprung on me? Some stupid test? Choose between the shitty option, the option that’s only for you or the one that gives you more chances of being brutally murdered but is the right one?

“The Florents will protect him. They will guide him. He will be raised by his mother’s kinsmen who will love him for who he is to them, not the power they can wield through him.” I stayed silent, hoping he did not notice my growing anger but resigning myself to the fact he probably could. Why was it every time I thought I had a handle on him, he screwed me over, seemingly out of spite? “And Rhaenyra, I will not bully them into accepting a betrothal that was never put into writing.”

“This is-” I started, rage getting the better of me but he was quick to speak over me.

“You are to be Queen! You can not leave your subjects worse off for your own gain!” He ignored my glare. “You must follow the law and do what is best for them…”

He trailed off, his eyes softening.

“You know this is the best choice for Lyonel,” he said gently. I gritted my teeth. He was right, damn him, but he was still screwing me over. “Aemma will find another betrothed. A betrothed who will fit her better.”

I wanted to demand, where? Who could top the Lord Paramount of the Reach? But I stopped myself in time. Anything I did here out of anger would act against me. He’d set me up in a test he knew I’d fail and he’d hold it over my head. 

“Did you have any in mind, father?” I asked. He stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

“The Strong boys jump to mind,” he said. “Or a Dornish match, perhaps, to bind them ever closer to us. Perhaps the young Oscar Tully or even further North?”

“I will investigate such matches,” I lied. I had long since given up on the Tullys, their silence had grated until my patience had snapped. As for the North… no, not until I knew where Cregan was falling on the political map. “Thank you.”

He smiled at me.

“You will be a great Queen, Rhaenyra, you just need to remember that you are their protector as well as their leader. The Throne and the Crown are not there to benefit you. You are there to benefit them.” He delivered the line with such a straight face that I was envious. Had he not partied half my childhood away? Had he not danced the line of a civil war because he wanted me heir and not Aegon? Had he not thrown his own power about with abandon, squandered the potential Jaehaerys had left him and cruised through his early reign on the advice of his councillors? 

Unfortunately he took my shocked silence as thoughtful musing and clapped me on the shoulder in a fatherly manner.

“I am proud of how far you have come,” he said. “I can not truly prepare you for rule but I can do my best. I love you.”

He left me there, gaping at him like a fish, ignoring the fact that I hadn’t even responded to that last, heartfelt statement. Oh, one of the Velaryons will be hearing about this tonight. I don’t know which one yet, but boy will they be hearing about it!


	161. New Life - Chapter 136

It had been Laena that had heard my complaints about Viserys. She’d been the first unfortunate I’d crossed and she’d at least been somewhat sympathetic on the matter, sending for juice and wine and listening to my ever more incoherent rant about the sheer audacity and obliviousness of Viserys Targaryen, adding in her own murmured agreements and nodding her head at all the right moments.

She’d gotten her revenge though, being that it was her that had arranged for me to be woken before dawn for an emergency meeting regarding the situation and my latest fuck-up when it came to properly managing my father. So I was already grouchy, curled up on a low couch in front of the fire, with the fruit tea I had gained a taste for filling the room with a pleasing fragrance.

“I have already informed Lord Tarly of your father’s decision,” Joffrey told me, as if it were not before sunrise and he had not had a few hours of sleep tops.

“It won’t be long before everyone knows,” I murmured before yawning. “He told the Small Council yesterday.”

“Indeed,” said Joffrey. “I suspect he has already informed the Florents as well, given they sent orders home to raise some troops in case the current guests at Highgarden are reluctant to leave.”

That was a chilling prospect.

“Tarly will leave,” said Laenor. “And by doing so, he’ll force Ormund to leave as well. He can hardly stay behind to protect Lord Lyonel in defiance of his true protectors when the one he is supposed to be protecting him from has already buggered off.”

“And if he comes up with some other excuse, Vhagar is itching for a chance to meet him again.” I did not like the smile on Laena’s face. It was dangerous, as if she were already savouring his death. 

“But it leaves us back where we started,” I pointed out. “The betrothal went from a sure thing to-”

“Not happening,” Joffrey finished for me.

“He wasn’t good enough for her anyway,” said Laenor, firmly. “Had she married him, she’d have spent the rest of her life wrangling his vassals for him.”

“You didn’t tell me you disapproved,” I mumbled, taking a sip of my tea. He shrugged.

“Unlike Rolph, I can’t train him myself,” he admitted. 

“You can’t train Osgood either,” Joffrey pointed out and Laenor gave him a quick grin. 

“No, that’s Jon Hardyng’s job.” Joffrey’s face twisted into something vaguely approaching annoyance at the mention of Laenor’s ex-lover.

“He will soon be a page, will he not?” I said quickly, wanting to head off that argument. “He will be seven this year!”

“Yes,” said Laenor. “He’s supposed to be serving as Jeyne’s cupbearer.”

“That’s nice,” I said, recalling serving as father’s cupbearer. Be silent, be attentive… hopefully he would not be as lax as I was with the networking side of the role. I had passed up on a dozen friendships out of arrogance back then.

“It still means we are on the backfoot in the Reach again,” Joffrey reminded us, pulling us away from the tangent we were liable to go on soon enough. “And, although I hate to say it, I believe we have reached an impasse in Court itself.”

“You mean to say we should take Rhaenys’ advice,” I said, getting the point immediately, “and go on a Progress.”

“All Targaryen monarchs before your father travelled,” said Joffrey. “So did their heirs.”

“Father has travelled.” I wasn’t sure why I was defending him given his behaviour yesterday, but I felt like I should.

“To the Riverlands,” said Laena and I shot her a look of betrayal. She shrugged. “Mother said he only went because of Ser Gonzo’s death.”

Oh, the Tullys of this era…

“He did,” I admitted. “But we saw much of the Riverlands.”

“And even now, your familiarity with Lord Samwell and Lord Amos has them looking kindly on you. You have their sisters, after all.” I fixed Joffrey with a glare.

“I am aware of the benefits of knowing your vassals personally,” I told him, unimpressed. He gave me an amused look and I tried not scowl at him. He was baiting me, I knew that.

“And what will happen if we leave Court?” asked Laenor. “Surely we can not abandon it to Alicent for half a year at a time.”

“Therein lies two problems,” said Joffrey. “The Court… and the time frame.”

“I don’t understand,” said Laenor.

“He means we’ll be gone much, much longer than half a year,” I told them. “My initial plans were for a Grand Progress.”

That had been when I was nineteen, though and lacked children and babes. Grand Progresses were slow affairs and given the size of Westeros, it could take over a year, maybe even two depending on how we chose to travel and how long we stayed at each place.

“That is…” said Laena slowly, “that is not doable. We would be better placed to go travelling for a half a year at a time.”

“So you say,” I said. “Yet if father passes before we have completed even half the progress…”

“And you would abandon the capital for that long!?” she asked, disbelieving. “You would have our children on the road for that long!?”

“It is not ideal,” I admitted. “But-”

“But nothing! A Grand Progress is ridiculous, especially at this stage,” she snorted.

“It is the spectacle of it that attracts me,” I said finally. “It screams power. I have to make my rule personal for them all. That way, even if Aegon calls for his ridiculous council, none will support him.”

“You can not think this is a good idea?” asked Laena, aghast as Joffrey nodded along with me. “It is so unnecessary!”

“We have a reasonable guess that Viserys has a few more years left in him,” said Laenor slowly, and I winced at the reminder that, in canon, father was due to die two years from now. 

“Exactly,” said Laena. “So if you gallivant off for two years on some spectacle filled Progress, you won’t be in the capital when he dies.”

“But we will have recently met and secured the oaths of most of the Lords of Westeros,” I pointed out. In truth, she had a very good point. There was no reason for one, long Grand Progress beyond my own desire for one. Yet if I said that out loud, she would grind me down with excuses and whining…

She sighed in frustration and leaned forward in her chair.

“I can not leave my own research for so long,” she finally admitted. “I simply can not.”

We waited in silence at that. I had not thought her work so involved, in truth. She came and went from the Dragonpit, she frequently left for trips to Dragonstone and I had known her to go further afield than that for books or information but…

“You can not come with us, then?” I asked quietly and she grimaced.

“I want to,” she told me, almost as if she were begging me to understand.

“We shall see what can be arranged,” said Joffrey, as Laenor shifted uncomfortably. 

“And as for the Court?” prompted Laenor, gazing at his sister with an expression I didn’t recognise.

“I will write to Jeyne. Many of her lords are still here,” I suggested. 

“It is funny you should suggest her,” said Joffrey dryly. “You have a letter waiting for you from her.”

“If this meeting hadn’t been so godsbedamned early, I could have read it beforehand.” Joffrey smiled sweetly at me but then fell into a thoughtful look.

“Perhaps Lord Redfort,” he murmured. “He is out of favour with Jeyne and would likely jump for a way back into her good graces.”

I winced at the reminder.

“He should not have gone behind her back so,” said Laena, tartly. “He should have told her from the beginning someone was blackmailing him. Instead, he… oh, how do you say it? He threw Jess under the cart!”

“And it earned him nothing,” I surmised. “I will write to Jeyne. I do not know if Jess is ready to forgive her father yet, but getting him out of the Vale may help.”

I felt for Lord Gerold, I really did, but he’d messed up and he knew it. His last piece of bargaining power had been working to separate Jess and Donnel Templeton, and even that had been taken away when the man had been sent to the wall alongside his fellow conspirators. In truth, there had been no need to take Jess away from Jeyne, certainly the traitors would have been better off sundering Lord Denys Waynwood from Jeyne’s graces, yet I half suspect they had targeted Jess solely to hurt Jeyne…

“So we can effectively form a bloc to ensure Alicent and Aegon do not get ideas. If something goes wrong, we can return on the dragons with a good amount of speed,” Joffrey surmised. “And who are we taking with us?”

“Doves, for the most part,” I told him. “The more we can get them seeing the lords of Westeros swear to me-”

“The more that will be inclined to swear to you in turn,” finished Laenor, looking pleased. “The more that swear to us now, the less we may have to fight.”

“It will not come to that,” I said, sounding unconvincing even to myself. Father’s reasoning made sense, yet nobody had exactly planned the Dance in the original timeline. If it did kick off here though, I would be ready. So would Laenor, I suspected. He’d been studying tactics and keeping up with his practice.

“We should begin making arrangements as soon as possible,” I decided. “The faster we leave, the faster we can return to Court to attend to any business.”

Laenor cocked his head, putting me in mind of a confused puppy for a moment.

“You intend to begin so soon?” In the corner of my eye, I saw the moment Laena’s eyes lit up with realisation.

“The babe!” she exclaimed. “How will you travel with such a young babe?”

“He will be fine after a few months but if it bothers you so, I shall check with Alannys the next time I see her.” Laenor looked unsure, but nodded anyway. Likely he knew I was due to see her very soon indeed given my checkup was next week… and Helaena’s confinement on the same day. Blast, how had I forgotten about that? I would have to buy her some books to tide her over. The Seven knew her mother was unlikely to, although I grant that Viserra may. What books did Viserra even read?

“I just… I feel it’s too much,” Laena whined. I gritted my teeth but it was Joffrey that interrupted.

“As if you have not had your adventures?” he asked archly. She flinched and lapsed into silence. “Now, do you wish for me to dig out your old plans?”

“Storm’s End, to Highgarden then on to Lannisport, Riverrun, the Eyrie and finally Winterfell,” I said, reciting what I could remember of the old itinerary. “Add Sunspear in. I’ll take Aliandra to Dorne if I have to hide her in my saddlebag.”

“No Pyke?” asked Laenor.

“Do you want to go to Pyke?” I asked and he shook his head, looking amused.

“Miserable place,” muttered Laena. “With a lord who needs gelding.”

“Time has not been kind to him,” I offered and she snorted.

“Time was in the process of not being kind to him when I was there, and yet he still grabbed… parts of me when he wanted to.” I swallowed the old anger that brought. Hagen Greyjoy was dying, it was not worth the reputation loss of roasting him.

“He can barely rise from his bed these days,” said Joffrey, frowning. “I suspect it will not be long until someone kills him.”

“Are things that bad?” I asked. 

“Dalton Greyjoy is popular. Young, but he has kills to his name,” Joffrey explained.

“The boy is not even four and ten,” murmured Laenor, aghast.

“He has been reaving since he was two and ten,” I said, recalling Joffrey’s reports. The future Red Kraken was going to be a problem, I just knew it. “His uncles may have raised him but they have done nothing Hagen himself would not have done.”

This line of Greyjoys would fit right in with Balon and his little rebellion. I was willing to bet Dalton had been a hero to Balon, actually, and I’m betting the man did not see the problem in how he died. He’d see his reaving of the Westerlands as glorious, and the fact that Dalton had accomplished little to nothing wouldn’t have occurred to him. Well, I would not see him reave to his heart’s content under my rule. If he thought he could, I’d let Laenor take his fleet and dragon and turn him and his whole rotten band of budget vikings into charcoal.


	162. New Life - Chapter 137

“It feels wrong,” Aegon complained. “I have been at her side the entire time! Why not now?”

“It is wrong,” said Laenor. “As I have complained many times, yet it is tradition, apparently.”

I watched them from my comfy chair, stroking my belly in amusement.

“There is no guard on her door, Aegon,” I told him and he turned to me, looking upset. “What prevents you from entering?”

He blushed a vibrant red at that and Laenor looked amused. It was an old argument for us but a new one for Aegon. I supposed it spoke well of him as a father and husband that he did not wish to be parted from his wife for so long, and I could not begrudge him the frustration that Laenor shared as well.

“Helaena herself,” he grumbled. “She told me not to ‘rock the boat’, whatever that means.”

Laenor gave me a disappointed look and I flushed with embarrassment. I may have slipped more than a few times around Helaena too. Perhaps I should be glad I was widely considered well-read so that when I said odd things, they merely assumed it something I had picked up from a particularly obscure book.

“It’s a phrase used on Driftmark,” said Laenor, turning back to Aegon. “It means that you shouldn’t try to change things or do anything… drastic.”

“I see,” said Aegon, puzzled. 

“You can blame me for that particular turn of phrase,” I told Aegon and his puzzlement became amusement.

“I should have guessed,” he laughed before crossing to me. “How goes your own pregnancy?”

“The little one is excitable,” I said. “Soon, you will be able to feel him yourselves.”

“I pray for a son. A strong son,” said Aegon as Laenor joined him by my side, his warm hands resting on my stomach.

“It is magical to feel your own babe growing,” said Laenor, full of reverence. Although I was not sure how he could miss the little one partying away down there. My twenty second week approached faster than I thought it ever could.

“When I first felt our babe,” started Aegon, before hesitating and blushing, “I thought I might weep.”

“I did weep,” admitted Laenor. “For all of them. It is a beautiful thing, to be a father.”

Aegon blinked then and I looked away, giving him time to compose himself. I could not speak with him about it, he would not accept such overtures, but I wished I could. Instead, I took his hand with a smile.

“We will be better to our children than our parents were to us,” I told him sincerely and he smiled again.

“We will,” he said. “I believe that from how you have raised your own children.”

I remembered that conversation Helaena and I had, just after Alys had tamed Vermithor. She had confessed then that she feared what her mother would do to a son of hers, did Aegon fear it also? Or did he fear what his own push for the Throne, as gentle as he wished it to be, would do to his son?

“Your Grace?” I peered past Aegon to see Alannys in the doorway. “It is time for your own check up.”

I rose, giving my husband and my brother a smile. Aegon squeezed my hand briefly before releasing it and Laenor, ever keen to win my blushes, dropped a kiss to my lips and pulled me as close as he could with a wicked smile. I didn’t miss the heat go to Aegon’s cheeks in turn as he quickly looked away, nor did I miss Alannys’ raised eyebrow.

“Fiend,” I murmured, his pleased looking smirk only growing in response, before I disengaged myself and followed Alannys through the manse. In my room, I found Sera waiting and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Do you need help changing?” she asked. I let her help, relaxing as the gown that was almost comforting in its familiarity was draped over me. “It seems like no time at all since you announced your pregnancy once more.”

“I know the feeling,” I said, catching her hand and laying it on my stomach. She beamed, although I did not miss some pain there. She had her nephews, she had the children of the other ladies and the Seven knew she doted on all of my children, but I could tell the prospect of being unmarried and childless for the rest of her life pained her more than she would ever dream of saying. “Has some knight caught your eye yet?”

“Many catch my eye,” she replied with an impish smile, before her features darkened a little. “It is catching their eye that is difficult.”

“I can add more to your dowry,” I replied, a little too quickly.

“I fear all that attracts is old lords, already awash with heirs,” she whispered. “But I thank you for the offer.”

“If one does catch your eye, tell me,” I insisted, aware that Alannys was waiting with a stony expression. “I will bargain with him. Land, a title, a good dowry - and an offer to legitimise any bastards you are willing to endure.”

“A pretty offer,” she said and then drew me close. “Thank you.”

“Your Grace,” said Alannys and I huffed in laughter. When Sera drew away, she was similarly amused.

“My apologies,” I said and laid on the bed as she usually wished me too. Her hands, always just a shade too cold, came to rest on my stomach, likely feeling for movement. I was sure others could have felt Aemma when I had been this far gone with her. I was not worried though, I could feel this one myself, in fact, he or she seemed intent on making it impossible not to. I answered her questions truthfully, and stoically endured her lectures on food and exercise. None could ever deny that Alannys did not take her duties seriously. I knew she had lost babes, but I also knew she’d lost less than most and in most cases, it had been out of her hands as to whether the babe lived or died.

“Tell me, Alannys, how are things at the College?” I asked as Sera helped me dress in the aftermath. Alannys paused in her note-taking and glanced up.

“Right now?” she asked. “Things are hectic. Master Jerrett is about to make the journey to King’s Landing.”

“What?” I asked, causing Sera to snort in annoyance as I managed to wrench a sleeve from her hand. “I have heard nothing about this.”

“It’s the Grand Master again,” she said dryly. “I knew Dean Gerardys has been ranting about it. The other Deans are not best pleased either.”

“Jowen,” I murmured and she nodded.

“From the sounds of it, he’s not well. His compatriots refuse College healers so we don’t know too much but most doubt he’ll see the end of this year.”

“And Jerrett wishes to take advantage of the upcoming election, no doubt,” I surmised. Alannys nodded again, jotting down a few more notes in the silence that followed. “And the College itself?”

“Well enough,” she replied, then noted my raised eyebrow and sighed, placing her quill aside. 

“Ever more men adopt the techniques the agricultural school puts out,” she told me. “Although I fear your attempts to introduce new crops to Westeros may be doomed to failure.”

“The rice is still proving difficult?” I asked.

“Aye,” she replied. “I fear you may need to find a new source of seeds. The ones you have now are not doing well.”

“I do not understand,” I murmured, frustration evident. “It should be warm enough…”

“Although everyone seems impressed with the new corn,” Alannys said, not giving me time to get too annoyed at the rice. Honestly, it had been Corlys’ idea. I had wanted to see about creating more variety in the Westerosi diet, and Corlys had calmly asked if rice might not help as he’d eaten plenty of it on his journeys. I hadn’t even realised it existed here and had jumped on the matter, but it seemed like it would be harder to grow than I thought. I did not understand that, by all that I could remember, rice was supposed to be a hardy plant…

“The selectively bred one?” I asked and she nodded.

“Gives you more for less,” she said grinning. “Or so I’ve heard.”

She was high up enough in the College to know these things, being head of the Midwifery course and one of Gerardys’ right hand people.

“I suppose selectively bred animals won’t be appearing for a good few decades yet, but the corn is good news,” I said and she nodded. 

“More food is never bad… what else?” she murmured, scratching at her chin. “Your print house is still losing money hand over fist but I reckon you knew that.”

“The Glassworks more than make up for it,” I insisted and she shrugged. “As for our neck of the woods, we’re building on what we already know. Germs, tools for diagnoses and surgery.”

“Surgery?” I asked and she nodded seriously. “It seems ambitious.”

“Dean Gerardys generally is. The Ether helps, as does the Dragon Salt,” Alannys told me. “He wants to show the Maesters how it’s done. Oh, and train up an entire generation of men better at it than they are.”

“Doctors,” I said gravely. Gerardys had separated his people out based on how long they’d studied with him and what course they had done, without me even prompting him to. Medics were generally the cross-specialists that had done a year with him. People like Sanderson, who was a sailor first and foremost, but knew enough about healing to massively reduce deaths on the ship he served on. His wisemen and Septon-healers would be next. They were what Gerardys considered the second most basic of his healers. They knew enough to treat common ailments and symptoms, to perform first aid in emergencies and to recognise when something was out of their hands and send it along to those who knew better, namely, his doctors. 

This was all a stopgap though. The moment I was Queen, I would have a grand hospital built in King’s Landing, one that Gerardys would be able to fill with his men. Doctors would take their oath and begin their service, wisemen and Septon-healers would become nurses and the staff of the clinics… it would not be the NHS of my previous life, but it was far better than anything people had access to right now.

And, since I knew Westeros well by now, there would be part of those doctors and part of that hospital reserved for use by the highborn. Those that were willing to pay for the privilege of the best medical care they could get. They would, I knew that. The alternative was the care of the maesters or slumming it with the lowborn. Their pride would not allow either if I continued to trash the Maesters and spread about tales of the skill of Gerardys’ men.

“Apart from that, not much is going on.” 

“Yet Jerrett opens new schools every month, it seems,” I said dryly. I was exaggerating. Jerrett was as good a ‘Master’ of the College as I could ask for, and it seemed he had taken Gerardys’ expelling worse than Gerardys himself if the roadmap he’d presented to me was any indication. He intended to have twenty one schools by the time he was done, each staggered in their opening and each rivalling the Citadel in some manner. The intent, he’d stated, was to lure the heirs and spares to the College directly. I could not deny that it would work, I had already received some queries from lords about the matter. 

After all, why rely on a maester when you could learn to do it yourself and be sure you weren’t being played? Still, it was only a few inquiries, likely from the cleverest of lords. I expected a few more soon enough, once the implications of Lady Arabella’s death had thoroughly sunk in for everyone. 

As of last time I’d checked, he had ten of the intended schools open, although only a few could boast students so far. Most had grown naturally from the alchemists I had brought to Dragonstone initially and ‘The Book’ they had studied, although I confess I had requested others to be prioritised; Agriculture, Architecture, Chemistry, Geography, Economics, Engineering, Law, History, Mathematics and Medicine. By the time I was Queen, those learned in these subjects would be available for me to choose from and my reign would be off to a strong start. 

Perhaps if they continued to impress me, my own children might study there. The more I thought on it, the more I liked the idea. The chance to encounter royalty would do much to boost the fledgling College.


	163. New Life - Chapter 138

“One and ten!” I crowed in delight as the twins were shown into the drawing room where the rest of my household were already gathered. Even Rhaenys had made her way back to King’s Landing despite her leg still not being entirely right. “My girls, my firstborn, to think it seems like yesterday you were just little babes.”

Jocelyn and Alys both blushed as I pulled them in close although they gave in and curled into me just as tightly as I was clutching at them. Their freedom was short lived because when I released them, Laenor drew them in close, murmuring his own congratulations. We were both a little weepy this morning, we had awoken together and realised that our babes were closer to being women grown than they were those angry, pink blobs they had been when I had presented them to Court.

“Do you feel any older?” asked Laena from her place by Joffrey’s side. Both were worn and haggard looking, as if they had gotten little sleep, although Joffrey wore it better than Laena did, her scars standing out an angry red against pale skin. I would guess they had been talking, as they so often did. I hoped it had borne some fruit, their friendship had been strained since Rhaena’s birth.

“Not really,” said Jocelyn, smiling ruefully, rubbing the arm she had broken so recently. An odd expression for her, I noted, pulling her close again and burying my face in the crook of her neck. She giggled and returned the embrace once more.

“Mama,” she said after a while passed and I did not release her. 

“My first babe so grown,” I murmured and she huffed with laughter before gently disentangling herself, being sure to be gentle with my right hand. I sent her off to endure the attentions of the others.

“Well, I believe they’ve put up with our embarrassing behaviour enough for one morning, don’t you think, my love?” said Laenor after Jocelyn and Alys had been hugged and kissed and made a fuss of by every adult in the room. I smiled as the younger members of our family were suddenly laser focused. Presents was something they had been waiting for. “Now it is time for the gifts!”

The girls were shown into the centre of the mass of children, both barely containing their excitement with even Alys not managing to conceal her squirm of anticipation. I caught Laenor’s eye as he reached down to where he had concealed Jocelyn’s gift. He smiled and produced the beautifully carved box, its lid bearing the dragon of House Targaryen. I’d followed in original Rhaenyra’s footsteps when it came to my own personal sigil, but it wasn’t Jocelyn’s, she had yet to create hers.

She took the box with curious hands and a bit of embarrassment at being the focus of so many. Yet that could not temper her excitement, however, and her hands shook a little as she undid the clasp and flipped the box open, before letting out a delighted gasp. The sword and dagger laid in the black velvet had been forged by the finest smith on the Street of Steel, a Qohorik, it should go without saying.

“Oh,” she whispered before bouncing to her feet and rushing us. “Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou-”

She was met with indulgent laughs as we scooped her in close again.

“You are good,” said Laenor. “I think it’s time we got you an actual tutor instead of letting you observe Rolph’s lessons.”

“Really?” she asked, looking ready to cry. Her lack of tutor had been a point of contention between us in the past, but it was time to acknowledge my daughter was not going through a phase and that even her future husband would hardly find her talent with the blade displeasing, given it was his lessons she so often joined, much to his delight. Speaking of which, Rolph whooped with delight at Laenor’s words before leaning over to examine the sword and dagger once more with an impressed whistle.

I had no doubt those two would have a fine marriage, they were fond enough of one another now, even if they sometimes bickered in the way children did, and Jocelyn had privately confessed that Rolph was ‘a bit of a fool’.

Once Jocelyn had settled down, still making the occasional sounds of awe over the blades we had given her and nudging Rolph and Luke when she spotted some new detail, I turned to Alys, who perked up instantly, directing a sweet smile at me. Her gift had been simpler to hide and she looked puzzled when I handed her the sealed letter, breaking the seal with a frown. I saw the moment she realised what it contained, her face lit up with delight and she bounced to her feet in excitement.

“Yes!” she exclaimed before thrusting the letter at Aliandra, who took it with a puzzled smile before her own eyes went wide. I could understand why, an entirely new wardrobe, put together by the finest seamstresses King’s Landing could offer with the finest materials Laenor could gather and import was quite a gift. She would be the best dressed in all of Westeros, as like as not. “Look!”

Jocelyn took the letter, bemused, as the rest of the children craned their heads over her shoulder. Jeyne seemed to get it, as did Rhaena and Aemma, although I’d warrant the others were clueless as to why she was so pleased. It didn’t seem to dim Alys’ happiness though, as she took the letter back and gave us all a tight hug.

“I shall take you before the feast,” I murmured and her eyes lit up. A feast father had insisted on making as grand as he could, hence it being a week after their actual nameday. There had been talk of a tourney too, although only a small one. “And now time for the other presents!”

Rhaenys and Corlys went first, smiling indulgently as Corlys presented Alys with a selection of fragrances and perfumes from far flung places. For Jocelyn, they had gotten her a fitting for a brand new set of riding leathers which, I noted, included boots, gloves and all the other trimmings like goggles and a fur-lined jacket. Both seemed pleased enough and thanked their grandparents happily. Laena and Joffrey came next.

“A gift of knowledge,” said Joffrey, as he passed a stack of books to Alys and Laena did the same with Jocelyn. Both girls took them curiously, managing to hide the instinctive disappointment eleven year olds had with the less exciting gifts. “Dragonlore, painstakingly researched and put together by my beautiful wife.”

“And illustrated and printed by the College of Dragonstone,” she added, smugly. I watched with a smile as Jocelyn flipped open her book to a random page to find a truly beautiful picture of a dragon, freshly hatched, with its anatomy labelled and explained on the opposite page.

“I sense new reading material in our lessons,” I told her and she smiled, looking pleased.

“Thanks Aunt Laena!” she said happily and Laena pulled her close, dropping a kiss to her forehead. Alys was still flipping through her own book, seemingly enraptured by the illustrations and information.

“You have not been so detailed in our lessons,” she finally said, an accusing note to her voice. Laena snorted and Laenor and I tensed, preparing for an argument.

“Did you wish to learn from lectures and a book? You are due to begin riding in earnest soon, we can delay if you wish?” At that subtle threat, Alys snapped the book closed with a look of panic.

“Truly? No, no! I will study these in my own time! I promise!” Laena merely smiled and drew her close for a hug, something that did not often happen. Then again, I had hoped they were slowly forging something from their lessons. Both of them complained to me less and less about the other as time went on, and I could not deny Alys seemed to almost look forward to her lessons, and seemed genuinely annoyed when her health prevented her from attending them. That happened less and less these days, but it was telling Laena had never punished her for skipping the lessons, instead acknowledging she was genuinely ill. Vermithor was doing wonders for Alys in more ways than one.

“Can I give my gifts now?” asked Aliandra when Alys managed to squirm free of her aunt. Amused, I nodded. I had made it clear the children need not buy each other presents, that I would ensure they all received something no matter what, but my older wards had insisted on buying something every year since they had been old enough to have their own allowance. Jocelyn grinned at her as she was passed a thick leather-bound book, the front embossed with a woman wielding a spear.

“Tales of Nymeria,” said Aliandra. “From her flight from Essos to her uniting Dorne.”

“Thanks, Ali!” she said, running her hands over the book in delight. She passed Alys a set of beautiful and delicately made scarves next and my second born seemed just as pleased with them as Jocelyn had been with her gift.

“You always try and steal mine,” said Aliandra by way of explanation, as Alys delighted in the work that had gone into making them.

“They are fine gifts,” I assured her and she blushed.

“I haven’t got my gifts here,” said Jeyne, when the twins’ attention turned to her. “But father is having them sent over.”

“Them?” asked Jocelyn and Jeyne smiled.

“Two of the finest horses, straight from father’s personal stock!” she boasted. “One true black and the other white, for your own colourings.”

“Truly?” said Alys. They had their own mounts already, of course, but they were not Bracken bred horses. Jeyne nodded in response to Alys’ wide-eyed question.

“Oh and, I hope I did not overstep, but Jocelyn’s is a destrier-” Jocelyn cut her off by throwing her arms about Jeyne with a squeal of glee and I shot Laenor a look of defeat. He smiled in turn before rolling his eyes.

“So it seems you’ll be learning the lance as well,” he said ruefully and Jocelyn went pink but nodded. I laughed and Jeyne seemed to relax. A Bracken-bred destrier was a fine gift, probably one of the more expensive ones Jocelyn would receive this year. I would have Jeyne make sure both knew how to properly care for their horses. That is, if the damnable things didn’t pull their arms off, those horses would be strong… then again, my daughters rode dragons. A horse was nothing compared to a dragon.

“A courser for you,” Jeyne was saying to Alys. “I know how you want to go hunting.”

“Thank you Jeyne,” said Alys, smiling widely. I did not miss the triumphant gaze Jeyne directed at Alysanne, nor did I miss the annoyed frown that crossed the Blackwood’s face in response. I sensed a competition there, one Jeyne had just won. I strangled a sigh and resolved to take them to task later. Alysanne’s own gifts were two beautiful hunting bows made of weirwood and horn. It seemed both my children had expressed a desire to see and take part in a hunt at some point. Perhaps it would be worth arranging one once Helaena had given birth and recovered, she was the true hunter in House Targaryen at the moment. Alysanne, like Jeyne, was drowned in ‘thank you’s and hugs for the thoughtful and expensive gifts.

Rolph was next up, blushing as he told Jocelyn about a fine hawk he’d procured for her to hunt with. He blushed even darker when she squealed with glee and threw her arms about his neck with a laugh, dropping a delighted kiss to his cheek. I couldn’t help but snicker as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. Yes, I truly had no doubt their marriage would be a happy one. He gave Alys jewelry, beautiful silver dragons inlaid with a wide variety of precious stones. There was no jealousy from Jocelyn, she had never been the type for jewelry anyway.

“Thank you, Rolph,” said Alys, her tone pleased but polite as she turned a small silver brooch in the shape of a dragon with amethyst eyes over so it caught the light again and again.

“And now it’s time for my gifts!” crowed Luke and I really, really wished I had missed the look of alarm of both Laena and Joffrey’s face. It meant, quite simply, that they had not known this year would be the year Luke decided to start giving gifts out.

“Do you need any help with them, my boy?” asked Joffrey, going to stand. Laenor glanced at him, picking up on his sudden nervousness. Luke shook his head happily and disappeared from the room, returning a moment later with a basket covered with a blanket. I caught Laena’s eye and gave her a raised eyebrow and she flushed before elbowing Joffrey. Not that her husband seemed to care, he was too busy staring at the basket in horror.

Mostly because it was now very obvious to all that something within the basket was alive and scrabbling about.

“This is for you, Jocelyn,” he said proudly, laying it down in front of her. Curiously, she pulled aside the blanket before her eyes went soft in a way I had only ever seen when she was with the entity of pure evil they liked to call a cat.

“Oh, Luke,” she breathed fondly, before reaching in and producing a small, black puppy. It barked happily and lapped at her face, earning a giggle as she brought it in closer. I winced. It was not even the gift that was the issue, it was the fact that I had not been warned and I very much doubted Luke of all people had thought ahead and bought the various accessories when he’d bought the dog. Actually, I thought, examining the dog closer. Where had he gotten that thing from? It did not look like any breed I could recognise off hand… 

“I got it from the market!” Luke was saying proudly. “He bit me and it reminded me of Jocelyn.”

Oh no… I raised my eyes to see Joffrey go pale and Laena to drop her face into her hands in despair.

“We’ll have it cleaned,” muttered Laenor, wincing as the puppy lapped at Jocelyn’s face again. “And trained.”

“And possibly a visit from one of Gerardys’ men for Jocelyn.” Who knew what a mongrel bought from a market in King’s Landing would have picked up. I certainly didn’t want my daughter catching rabies or something. “And Luke too if the blasted thing bit him.”

Laenor snorted as Luke trotted out the room again, returning with a book of all things. He presented it to Alys, his ears red. Puzzled, she took it. 

“This reminded me of you,” he said. I rolled my eyes. It seemed Luke’s presents were destined to always be interesting ones if ‘it reminded me of you’ was how he intended to go about it, although I’d bet he was in for a lecture on appropriate gift giving from his father if Joffrey’s expression was anything to go by. Alys flicked it open, her eyes skimming over the pages before her puzzlement became delight and she threw her arms about Luke’s shoulders.

“Poems,” murmured Laenor, sitting back with a smile. “On the nature of beauty. He’s a good boy.”

“I shall treasure it,” Alys promised. “Thank you, Luke.”


	164. New Life - Chapter 139

“To Alyssa and Jocelyn!” roared Viserys, for what must have been the fiftieth time that night. The feasting hall was quick to echo his toast, letting out an almighty cheer that had father beaming at them and both Jocelyn and Alys looking pleased by the general merriment their eleventh birthday had produced. I watched with an amused smile as Rhaenys, who seemed glued to their side today, leaned across in her chair to tell them something. Whatever it was, it had Jocelyn grinning and Alys giggling.

“Your father is in good cheer,” said Laenor, whose gaze was roaming about the hall.

“He always is when it comes to my children,” I told him before ruefully adding, “even if he is dissatisfied with their father.”

Laenor snorted with laughter at that and scooped up his wine. I followed suit with my juice and caught his free hand to lay across my stomach. He smiled as the little one inside squirmed within me. 

“He will be an active one,” said Laenor. “A handful.”

“So was Jocelyn,” I said with a nod to our daughter. “We’ve survived it once and we will survive it again.”

“On the road with the rot of King’s Landing behind us,” he said with a smile before frowning. “Have you told your father?”

I winced.

“No, no I have not. He will not approve,” I admitted and Laenor shook his head with a smile.

“Maybe I should tell him, he is already wroth with me,” he mused. I snorted and reached up to tug on his beard a little, earning me a squawk of indignation.

“Enough talk of grim things,” I told him, letting go. “Let’s enjoy the feast, maybe dance a little…”

He smiled and caught my hand, rising with me. Both of us enjoyed dancing, I had discovered and we frequently found ourselves partnering up, even in the privacy of the manse. Laena detested dancing despite being talented at it, and Joffrey could not without quite a bit of pain. Laenor was grinning by the time the first song came to an end and much more relaxed besides.

Not everyone was enjoying the festivities though, given the way Aegon was slumped at the high table, shooting annoyed glances at his mother. Alicent looked similarly miserable, although she hid it much better. The strain was there though, and her gaze wandered frequently enough to Aegon that I could guess from the way her eyes tightened in pain that they’d argued recently. Very recently, if she were this obvious.

The biggest hint was Aemond though, I reflected as Laenor whirled me about. My brother seemed to be struggling to decide just who he wanted to glare at more, Alys or Alicent. He’d settled for letting his furious gaze flick between the two as he tapped out an angry beat on the table and clenched his jaw so tightly I could see the muscle straining when the dance took us close.

Daeron hovered close by to him, acting as his cupbearer rather than a prince attending the nameday feast of his nieces. I smiled as Aemond almost lazily gestured and Daeron came forward, pouring more wine for him in a surprisingly speedy manner. My youngest brother’s gaze soon turned to elsewhere in the room though, and it wasn’t hard to see where. Viserra, huddled by Aemma and Rhaena and seemingly only listening to the animated conversation the two were having.

“Thank you for the dance,” I told Laenor as the set came to an end.

“You’re quite welcome, wife,” he teased back. “Have you spotted something that requires your attention?”

“You know me so well,” I teased right back and he adopted a smug smile. “Think we can get my wards dancing among themselves?”

Laenor raised an eyebrow before glancing back at the table our children occupied. Alysanne and Aliandra were discussing something with a great deal of animation, arms waving and faces set with determination. Rolph, Luke and Jeyne were also similarly caught up in conversation, with Jeyne seemingly lecturing the two boys. I would guess on horses, it was the only topic they were likely to defer to her on. Laenor looped his arm through mine as we seated ourselves at the table.

“Where is Aemon?” I asked, receiving giggles as my answer from the girls.

“Lady Cassandra dragged him away to dance,” Luke said, as Rolph blushed.

“Oh dear,” drawled Laenor dryly. The girl Aemon was betrothed to was not set in stone yet, it had been agreed it would be decided closer to his birthday. However, Elenda had warned me that her girls had gotten wind of the arrangement and all three wanted to be Queen. Cassandra was the eldest and viewed it as her right, yet she was eight years older than Aemon, something her younger sisters viewed as reason enough to try themselves. Maris had four years on Aemon and was the cleverest of the sisters by a country mile whilst Ellyn was closest in age to Aemon at only three years older, and easily made up in sweetness what she lacked in Maris’ cunning and Cassandra’s drive.

Regardless of their personalities, I sensed Lady Cassandra abducting my son might have something to do with this ongoing competition more than any real desire to dance with him.

“Father went to watch,” Luke told me. “So he says you aren’t to worry.”

“Aw,” I said back, relief washing away the first stirrings of worry. “He knows me so well. Now, come, I want you all showing the world I have not been remiss in my lessons to you.”

That got a chorus of groans and unhappiness.

“May I dance with Jocelyn?” asked Rolph, eyes flickering nervously up to the high table where Jocelyn sat with Alys. I smiled indulgently at him.

“Go and ask her,” I told him. “She is one and ten, I can not decide for her.”

Rolph left the table so quickly I thought he might have been running. It certainly got indulgent smiles from the rest of my wards and children.

“Luke,” I said warningly and he dropped his gaze to the table. Both Joffrey and I had told our respective project in Operation: Happy Marriage that they should make the effort to dance together tonight.

“Aliandra,” he said finally. “Would you do the honour of dancing with me?”

Aliandra’s dark eyes fixed upon my face as she gave me a glare to let me know how unhappy she was with the situation, before holding out her arm. 

“I would be happy to, Lucerys,” she replied through gritted teeth, words at odds with her tone. We all watched, partly in horror and partly in amusement as Luke led his betrothed off to dance and they promptly managed to turn it into a fight as to who might lead. 

“Can Aemma and I dance together?” asked Rhaena, tugging on the sleeve of my dress. 

“Of course,” I told them and they gave each other wide grins before parking themselves beside Luke and Aliandra’s ongoing mess, distracting both of them with chatter. 

“Hmm,” said Laenor. “That’s rather clever of them.”

“And who should we dance with?” asked Alysanne, glancing at Jeyne with trepidation. 

“Wait here, I shall find you suitable dance partners,” I assured them as an idea sprang to mind. I made my way back to the high table to find Rhaenys and father in a deep conversation about dragons, Jocelyn and Rolph shuffling about together and Corlys dancing with Alys, beaming at his granddaughter as she proved able to keep up with him. I smiled at them all as I slipped past and found Aegon and Aemond sulking closer together than they had been before.

“Brothers,” I said in a low voice. “I have a favour to ask?”

“Oh?” said Aegon, forcing a smile onto his face. “If it is within our power, we shall grant it.”

I ignored the glare I was getting from Alicent and gestured for Daeron to put his jug down and come closer. He did, looking curious that he should be included.

“I have three ladies with no dance partners,” I told them. “Including our dearest sister.”

“Then we shall aid you happily!” laughed Aegon, his smile becoming a bit more genuine. “Come Daeron, no doubt Viserra would love a dance with you!”

“I have had too much wine,” said Aemond, sulking slightly. Aegon pulled a face and I stepped back, directing my attention to the crowd as Aegon stepped in close and he and Aemond proceeded to have a hissed conversation. The issue with Aemond was that he was entirely too rash. He’d jump to conclusions in his anger and by the time he was finished acting on those conclusions and calmed down, he often found himself in the wrong.

I was given to believe that was what had happened with Alys. She had told him of my detailed records of the dragon movements on Dragonstone and given him the letter detailing Vermithor’s flight from his lair. In his anger, he’d concluded that I had betrayed him, deliberately tried to play him false as to his desired dragon’s location and jumped into his little plot with Alys as a result.

Now he could not let go that he had been manipulated so, especially by one so young, and it was driving him mad. After a few more heated whispers, I heard Aemond sigh in defeat and turned back. Aemond turned his gaze to me and I raised an eyebrow. He sighed heavily and finished his wine in a single gulp before rising. He was not going to let it go, I knew that for sure. In fact, I suspected the only reason he’d never turned that anger on me was the fact that he knew he had been in the wrong when he’d helped Alys escape. He would certainly turn it on her if I let him though… I led the three princes back through the crowd, garnering many curious looks as I did. 

“My ladies,” said Aegon with a bow as we reached them. “I am told you lack a partner.”

“We do, my prince,” said Alysanne, scrambling to her feet with a blush on her face. “Have you come to aid us?”

Aegon caught her hand and lowered a kiss to the back of it, sending her redder. If I weren’t so damn sure he was loyal to Helaena, I might have made a scene, but as it was I suspected if she ever thought him unfaithful she’d cut something he considered very important off.

“Indeed we have! Care to dance, Lady Blackwood?” She was giggling as he led her off, even the back of her neck was red.

“Flirt,” said Laenor without much heat as we stared after them. Daeron shoved his way over to Viserra and held out his hand. She took it with a shy smile and the two were soon gone as well. Which left-

“Did you want to dance, Lady Bracken?” asked Aemond. It was not quite the elegant proposal Aegon had given Alysanne but Jeyne merely smiled and shrugged before offering him her hand. I was sure to mouth ‘thank you’ to him as he led her away. My brother merely rolled his eyes and produced something I think he hoped was a smile but looked closer to a grimace of pain.

“Where is Laena, if Joff is with Aemon?” asked Laenor suddenly. 

“I’m not sure,” I said, peering about for my lover. Yet I saw no flash of silver-gold hair beyond my own children. I sighed.

“I will find her. Go and find Joffrey and ensure our son does not end the night married.” The worry drained from Laenor’s face and he laughed, dropping a kiss to my cheek before striding off. 

“Rhaenyra,” said Aliandra. Surprised, I glanced around. Both her and Luke seemed to have tired of stamping on each other’s toes and were watching me carefully. “Lady Laena was feeling ill, so she told us to tell you she went home.”

“She told father,” said Luke, shooting her a glance in annoyance. “But father went off with Aemon.”

“I see,” I said. “I will find her when the feast is over then.”

Aliandra gave me a thin smile and I was forced to wonder what she thought of her would-be goodmother. Father may have declared the Bulwer as responsible for the massacre and Laena blameless, but given the rabble-rousing of Myles Sand, I wasn’t sure how believed that was by the Dornish themselves. I would hope that being taught the spear by Laena would give Aliandra insight into the woman she was, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it was another layer to her dislike of Lucerys as a husband - that he was the son of a woman she believed had slaughtered her subjects?

“Might we find Alyssa?” asked Aliandra, interrupting my thoughts again.

“Yeah!” agreed Luke. “We should find her and make sure she isn’t lonely since Jocelyn is with Rolph.”

Amused, I stared at them both. Well, it seemed there might be one thing they agreed on at least. Although I wasn’t sure how that would help them in their adult life, but if it meant cooperation now…

“Go,” I chuckled. “And tell her not to consume too much wine!”


	165. New Life - Chapter 140

“You left early.” Laena jumped as I let myself into her room, nearly dropping the book she was absorbed in. I did not fail to notice she’d changed into more comfortable clothes either.

“Rhaenyra,” she breathed. “You surprised me.”

“I apologise,” I said and she smiled, although I didn’t miss the fact she seemed almost unsure of herself as she rose to face me, fidgeting with the spine of the book. 

“I was feeling unwell.” She was lying. At my look, she blushed before dropping the book into the seat she had been occupying until very recently and striding to the window, pulling aside the curtains and fumbling with latch with an aggravated sigh.

“It is foolish,” she finally muttered.

“Not if it has you so upset,” I shot back and she sighed again.

“I overheard some squires speaking of me, that is all.” I grimaced at that and stepped closer, laying my hand on her shoulder as gently as I could. She felt as if she were made of stone beneath me. “I knew… I knew what would be said about me before I began this quest.”

“But it still hurts?” I asked quietly. She pushed away from the window and caught my hand, smiling sadly.

“I care little as to the rumours a gaggle of squires spread about me,” she told me. “It is… it merely hurts to know my parents are of the same mind.”

“Ah,” I said, before pulling her in close and gently stroking her hair. It must have hurt her back to bend down to the point where she could lay her head on my shoulder, but I wasn’t about to point that out as she took a great shuddering breath in my arms. “Rhaenys and Corlys are some of the most stubborn people I know, Laena, but I don’t doubt they love you.”

“Then you are wrong,” she whispered. “You are wrong. I fear I have not been truly loved by them since Luke… since Daemon.”

“It was their mistake as much as it was yours. They threw you to him, they encouraged it, and had you married him in the end, they would not have cared at all when Luke was truly conceived.” At my adamant tone, she chuckled and stood up properly again, meeting my eyes with her own tear filled stare.

“You are kind to say so,” she said. “Stay with me tonight?”

At that request, I had little choice but to agree, even if I had for some reason not wanted to. I wanted to hold her close and keep all the worries of the world from her, but I knew that was impossible, so I’d settle for staying with her in the darkest hours, when she was at her worst. I would have to speak with Rhaenys and Corlys soon enough. I did not know how much was Laena reading into their discomfort with her chosen area of study, and how much was true discomfort. I had brought Laenor and Laena together once more and Joffrey was fixing his relationship with her, I could bring her closer to her parents once more, I was sure of it.

And the last thing I needed, in purely mercenary terms, was my main supporters divided if the worst should happen.

The moon was high in the sky when a knock at the door awoke me, my face pressed into Laena’s hair. It took quite a bit of confused snorting for me to disentangle myself and realise the one calling my name softly through the door was Laenor. I heard Laena sit up as I padded across to the door, wearing little more than my shift. Laenor looked anxious as he stepped inside, holding one of my more austere dresses.

“You will need this,” he said, tone serious. “Put it on.”

“What has happened?” I asked, obeying with Laena’s help, worry rising in my chest.

“A messenger arrived not a few minutes past, mother is with him now,” he told me quietly. “Your sister-”

“The baby is coming?” I hissed, pulling the dress about me with speed. Laenor nodded. “A bit early but not dangerously so. Why are you so grim?”

“Your father’s man said there had been some disturbance with Alicent,” he sighed. “And I know not what effect it had on your sister.”

I wanted to scream but concern for Helaena kept me focused on dressing, despite the unevenness of my breath. It did not take long, although it felt like an age before I was mounting up alongside Ser Erryk and a small contingent of Velaryon guards.

“Stay with your sister,” I told Laenor. “She needs it tonight.”

“She is not ill,” he guessed, smile sad. “I will stay with her, never fear. Go to your sister’s side, she will need you.”

He still adored my sister. Still felt like he should be doing something to protect her. I think he only loved her half as much as he did because he’d seen her as a child, confessing the horror her dreams would bring her. We set off at a brutal pace, the chilly night air made my face numb and I instantly regretted the decision not to wait for a scarf and gloves. Instead, I urged the horse onward a little faster and tried to banish the thoughts of things going wrong. Helaena had given birth to twins in that other time, healthy twins, and then another son after that. With a midwife on hand and a much less high risk birth, she would be fine. I must have repeated that phrase inside my own head a thousand times before our little party thundered into the Red Keep.

“My sister?” I asked the man who had evidently been waiting for our arrival.

“Right this way, Your Grace,” he said, calm in a way I hoped meant everything was going as it should.

“The messenger mentioned something about a disturbance,” I asked, nerves making it impossible to remain quiet. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, for the servant’s response made my heart sink into my stomach. Him biting his lip, almost involuntary, told me more than I needed to know.

“Her Grace merely disagreed with Princess Helaena’s birthing plans,” he finally murmured. “I can say little more.”

That meant father had placed a moratorium on discussing the matter. He only did that to ‘protect’ family. Had Alicent done something to Helaena? I wanted to charge up there and start demanding answers but such things were not fitting for a Princess and Heir so I forced myself to keep pace with the servant as he led me to the rooms Helaena had spent her confinement in. I knew the way myself, of course, I had been the one to ferry Aegon’s letters to her and take her replies back to him despite both refusing to let me know what they contained. I could have read them myself, Joffrey was well practised in reading a letter without breaking the seal but I had demurred, based on the chance I may end up reading something I couldn’t unread.

There were guards outside her door, Ser Byren and Ser Arryk.

I swallowed when I saw them. There should be no need for them to be so alert looking in the middle of the Red Keep, outside a birthing chamber of all things. When he saw me, Ser Byren went to unlock the door, shooting me a relieved smile. Ser Arryk’s greeting was a lot more restrained, despite his twin brother tailing me. Ser Erryk was insistent he was merely a grim man, that he would follow Viserys’ wishes whether he liked them or not, but I had a feeling I had lost Ser Arryk long ago.

I would have to keep them from each other, should war come. If not, I would have to look into honourably discharging the two of them. I could not have someone so openly disloyal so close to me and my family, and if I sent him to Aegon, he’d be part of plots against me in no time at all. It was hard not to fidget with my hands as I waited for what seemed like eternity for Ser Byren to open the door.

Ser Erryk remained outside, greeting his brother with a grin as I almost shoved my way past Byren. I would apologise later, when my sister did not need me. The birthing chamber itself smelt of sweat and was quiet, save for Helaena’s whimpering and the quiet, professional tones of the midwives. I was instantly taken back to Rhaena’s birth all those years ago. The terror, the worry, the desperation… I swallowed the bile that thought brought and forced myself to move into the room proper, pausing only to wash my hands in the basin and don an apron.

“Rhaenyra,” whined Helaena, when she realised who had come to her side. “This is awful.”

“I know,” I said, curling my hands into hers.

I felt like a giant hypocrite as she groaned instead of answering, her fingers curling tighter into my hands as she tried to find a position that wasn’t too uncomfortable for her. I wanted to ask what Alicent had done, why her mother wasn’t here, but now was not the time. Instead, I lead her through the breathing exercises I knew from memory at this point. The babe would not come for a while yet anyway. Her contractions still came and went a good few minutes apart. The breathing helped, as did the brief massages to her sides and back. The midwife wanted her to get up and move around a little but my stubborn little sister refused.

“It will be okay,” I told her and she huffed with laughter before wincing and shifting in the bedding.

“Should I worry about my babes picking up odd phrases?” she asked, a little breathless. “I have searched the library for these books you get them from.”

I blushed as she whined again, seemingly trying to push herself back into the bed. One day, someone was going to actually confront me over these books, I was sure of it. I wasn’t even sure why it was so easy to slip, certainly nobody else had used those phrases in day to day conversation until they had picked them up from me.

“Mellos destroyed Runciter’s system of bookkeeping,” I told her, stroking her forearm as she gripped my hand tightly again before easing off. “Have you asked Edmund?”

“I fear he is not my biggest fan,” she gasped. “I had him kicked out. Mother too.”

“That explains the guards,” I said, trying to keep my voice light and she smiled, delighted.

“Father actually placed guards?” I retrieved a cloth and wiped at her forehead before nodding. “Thank the Seven.”

“She was that insistent?” At my question, Helaena snorted in a most unladylike fashion.

“She came back with her own knights. I thought father would kill them himself. He had her marched away and confined Edmund to the Maester’s tower.” What was Alicent thinking!? Then again, given this was her first grandchild, I’d bet money on her not thinking at all. She merely saw her daughter preparing to give birth without the attention of the Grand Maester, a man she knew was more competent than Mellos and Runciter put together.

“That does explain why he is not hovering nervously outside,” I joked, trying for levity and earning myself a pained chuckle. “You know that’s his favourite activity when babes are born.”

She sniffled suddenly and concern made me bracket her face with my hands.

“What is wrong?” I asked, worry settling in my chest. This part was more uncomfortable than painful, pain meant something had gone very wrong. “Pain?”

“No,” she whispered. “I am a bad daughter, Rhaenyra.”

“No,” I assured her. “No, you really are not. If I had a daughter like you, I would count my blessings.”

“Even when it came to my first battle?” she asked.

“Even then. I would worry but never think you a bad daughter for it.” She laughed again, tears coming properly now. “What is wrong?”

“I don’t want her near my children,” she whispered finally. “I don’t want her near me. Or Aegon. Or Aemond. It’s why I wanted Viserra to like us more than her. We can take them from her, save them from her.”

“Your mother loves you,” I whispered, unsure of where this conversation had come from, or where it was going.

“I do not doubt that,” she replied. “But her love is poison. Look at Daeron… at Viserra. Look at how Aegon and Aemond used to be-”

“Do not dwell on this now,” I whispered. “Do not, it will make the birth harder.”

“But when do I dwell on it?” she asked. “When she has my child in her arms?”

“I will speak with father,” I assured her. “Together, we will make sure she is never alone with your child.”

She winced again, attracting the attention of the midwives who crowded around her. I watched them, waiting for some sign of what they were examining for. They had been quiet during our little talk, content to time her contractions and wait for when they were needed.

“All right,” said the lead midwife, a woman I did not recognise. “Princess, it’s time.”


	166. New Life - Chapter 141

“A son,” I told Helaena, body aching and head heavy with exhaustion. My little sister was exhausted too, barely managing to keep her eyes open, but I didn’t miss the look of almost grief that flashed across her features as the midwife handed her the wailing bundle. “What is wrong?”

“Mother will-”

“Do nothing,” I said firmly, cutting her off. I meant it too, even if I had to wrestle her with my bare hands. “This is a moment of joy, Helaena.”

“I know,” she whispered, cradling her babe. It was a miracle I could even hear her over the noise, two pink hands waved at her as her son let the world know of his general displeasure. 

“What will you name him?” I asked. Her face twisted again.

“Aegon wishes to name him Jaehaerys.” The name sent a trickle of fear down my back and I forced a smile. Of course he’d pick that name for his heir. Alicent would be delighted, I had hoped that would be enough to change his mind.

“A fine name,” I replied, reaching out to stroke his cheek, only to be flailed at as his wails increased in volume for a moment. “A strong name for a strong babe.”

“I don’t like it,” she sobbed, holding the babe closer. “He deserves his own name.”

I cradled her as best as I could in my arms, more than aware I was completely unprepared and unable to deal with… whatever this was? Trauma? It hurt to think she’d never come to me about it. Had she thought I would use it against Alicent? That I would be anything other than her supportive big sister? I swallowed down the sudden lump in my throat and prayed that the tears that threatened would not fall as I dropped a kiss to her forehead. All I got was a sniffle in turn.

“I will send Aegon to you,” I told her. “Tell him this, please? He loves you. He loves the little one.”

Alicent, father and Aegon were waiting outside, each seemingly more worried than the last when I staggered out on legs that felt like jelly. I was quite certain I was seconds away from sobbing myself, if only for the pain I had seen in Helaena’s gaze when it was fixed on her newborn son. Looking at Alicent’s face, caught between worry and anger, it made me want to scream at her. To tell her that it had been her that had torn this family apart. Everything would have been fine if she’d just left well enough alone.

“How is she?” asked Aegon, beating even father and Alicent to the question. The moment of rage and anger was over, popped like a bubble by Aegon’s question. I blinked and gave him a shaky smile before jerking my head towards the door I had just stepped through.

“See for yourself, brother.” He didn’t answer me, slipping past me a moment later. I thought I could hear the shakiness of his breath as he passed me. There was a moment’s silence as the wails of the babe increased in volume before the door shut, muffling them once more. Then Alicent stepped forward and father caught her by the shoulder.

“No, my love,” he whispered, “let her rest.”

“Viserys,” she hissed, her eyes flickering to me and then back to father. “You can’t be serious?”

“I can. Stay here and keep Rhaenyra company.” I wasn’t sure if he was deliberately ignoring the look of hate she directed at his back or if he had genuinely missed it, but I had to wonder at his bravery if he had seen it and still turned his back regardless. Once he had gone to see Helaena, Alicent’s mask fell back into place but it was strained. The most peaceful expression in the world couldn’t hide the pain in her eyes or the way her hands worried at her dress. Nor could it hide the shuddering breath she took.

“Ser Byren,” I said, making the knight jump in surprise. “Could you have some tea sent up?”

“Yes, your Grace,” he replied, stepping past the Queen, who did not react at all. Ser Erryk took the knight’s place by the door with a serious nod at me. Ser Arryk gave him the ghost of a smile before they fell into the usual wooden expressions Kingsguard were expected to have when on duty. I sat down before my legs gave out, mentally applauding the midwives who were no doubt still attending to Helaena, despite being on their feet longer than I had been.

“Perhaps you should sit, my Queen,” I suggested. Those green eyes came to rest on me then, fury springing up in them.

“I am fine standing,” she replied after a moment of silence that went on just a little too long. She turned her stare back to the door that led to Helaena’s chambers. Muffled, I heard father laugh loudly and stamped down a smile. He truly loved children, no doubt he’d come close to breaking Aegon’s ribs a few times in the few minutes they’d been in there.

“Why does she not want me in there?” asked Alicent and I wasn’t entirely sure until she turned to me. “I am her mother. We argue but…”

I could answer her. I could tell Alicent everything Helaena had said to me. Perhaps she would even believe me, take it onboard and work towards fixing the relationship she had with her oldest children. Perhaps, in a perfect world. When I said nothing, she huffed in annoyance, pulling at her dress even more obviously than before. It took me a moment to realise I had not seen her do that in years… not since mother had her dead to rights over helping me sneak out.

I chuckled before I could help myself. I blame exhaustion and the emotional roller coaster Helaena had me on at any given moment. It served to rouse Alicent’s anger though and a moment later she was in front of me, looming over my sitting position, eyes blazing.

“What is so funny?” she demanded. “Does my grief amuse you so?”

“No,” I replied, refusing to crane my head upwards to peer at her. “No, you know it doesn’t. I merely… Do you remember when mother figured out who had helped me escape to tame Syrax?”

From the look on Alicent’s face as she stepped back, I couldn’t have surprised her more. A light blush started at her neck, moving to her cheeks and she stepped back again, before her face twisted in annoyance.

“Of course I remember,” she hissed, glancing at the twin Kingsguard by the door. Idly, I wondered where Ser Rickard and Ser Willis had gotten too. I saw them so little these days, father’s influence, I wonder? “Your idiocy nearly lost me my place at Court!”

“I was six,” I replied, feeling a little lightheaded with lack of sleep. “You were, what, three and ten?”

“Five and ten,” she replied in an acidic tone. “A woman grown.”

“And yet you helped little old me sneak out of Dragonstone.” Some more of that anger drained away and she threw herself into the chair next to me, in time for Ser Byren to return with a servant carrying my ordered tea. We waited in silence as he poured us each a cup and left again.

“I used to hate this stuff,” I murmured, taking an experimental sip and promptly burning my mouth. “Laena got me addicted to it.”

“I do not understand what you see in that woman,” muttered Alicent, before blowing gently on her own drink. “She is-”

It was my warning look that cut her off and she settled for a snort of disgust.

“You beat her to father. If you had not been on the scene, he would have married her,” I said finally. “So why does it matter?”

“You would not understand,” said Alicent finally, after considering my question for some time. “You never understood, even back then. Too wrapped up in your books.”

“We used to read together,” I said, remembering days spent in the library together, each of us absorbed in our own different tales and histories, occasionally pointing out something especially interesting to one another. It was a comfortable memory, I had indulged my fangirl side a lot back then. Things had been less hectic, less immediate. “They are good memories.”

At my confession, she placed her cup down onto the small table in front of us, her hand shaking slightly. She cast a glance at the Kingsguard, whose eyes were trained on us as if they feared we would begin attacking one another without a moment’s notice, and leaned in.

“Do not try and play the friend to me,” she hissed. “You are poison. You corrupt everything you touch. Daemon, Viserys - and now you take my children too.”

I sat there, frozen at the sheer hate in her tones as her hand came to rest on the hand I was not using to drink my tea, tightening painfully around it until I was forced to flinch at it. All it garnered was a satisfied smile.

“I hate you,” she said finally when I attempted to pull my hand back. “If I could go back and make sure you met with some accident even then I would. I wish it had been me that had killed Alys Strong, I wish your nasty little child had killed herself on that boat and I wish Correy had killed your sword-swallowing excuse for a husband.”

She gave one final squeeze, one final twist before releasing me. I realised why a moment later, when Ser Erryk spoke up from his position by the door.

“Is everything okay, Your Grace?” But the hate, the real genuine hate in her voice had robbed me of any reply I might have had at that moment. I had known she hated me but to see it, to feel it in the flesh. I cradled my throbbing hand against my body and turned to Ser Erryk with a smile.

“I am well enough,” I replied, “merely exhausted.”

He nodded and resumed his stance by the door as I turned back to Alicent who was watching me with guarded eyes, as if waiting for my response. Quietly, I placed my cup down next to hers and rubbed some life back into the hand she had gripped with such surprising strength before fixing her with what I hoped was a truly frightening glare.

“If you were worth anything, I’d think up some comeback or witty response,” I told her. “But you aren’t. You haven’t been for a long time. You are a failure clinging to relevance and soon even your children will be done with you. You asked why Helaena doesn’t want you there? It’s simple. Helaena, Aegon and even Aemond see you for what you really are. A grasping bitch.”

She was going to slap me, I realised that a bit too late, but even as she rose and I resigned myself to it, I couldn’t help but muse on the wonders this was going to do for my cause when father found out. As it was, it was Aemond that saved me from the blow, however ignorant he’d been as to why Alicent had been in the process of launching herself to her feet when he opened the door sprinting in.

“Rhaenyra,” he cried. “Is she okay!? Why did nobody wake me!?”

“I do not know,” I said, rising and stepping around a genuinely furious looking Alicent to embrace my younger brother. I dared not look back at the Kingsguard, there was no way they didn’t have their suspicions about what had just occurred. Yes, Erryk could back me up until he was blue in the face, but I doubted Arryk would be so firm. All it would take was a little doubt from the knight, and father would convince himself it was some sort of mistake in a second.

“But Helaena is fine,” I told him and he sighed with relief. “Father and Aegon are with her now.”

“Thank the Seven,” he breathed, stepping back from my hug, a blush rising to his cheeks. “What… that is to say-”

“A son,” I said and ignored the small whining noise Alicent made in the back of her throat. “I believe they are discussing names now.”

I could not have timed the statement better as the door to Helaena’s chambers opened and father stepped out, his face shining with tears. Aegon followed him, looking a little shell-shocked as he clutched his son to his chest. It was if he couldn’t quite believe he was holding him, as if he expected to wake up and discover he had been dreaming. He had a broad smile on his face when he finally looked up at us all. The little one had quieted down well enough and had settled for squirming angrily in his father’s grip.

“Might I introduce you all,” he said with obvious pride, “to Rhaekar Targaryen.”


	167. New Life - Chapter 142

Nobody liked me getting a full and restful night’s sleep, I decided as Joffrey shook me awake. Next to me, Laena grumbled, annoyed, and might have hit him with a pillow if she had been more awake and he slower on the uptake. I sat up and peered past the candle light to find him dressed in dark clothes, his stick mysteriously absent…

“What?” I asked. Although given my sleepy state, I came out closer to ‘wstfgl?’. 

“Joffrey, nooooo,” whined Laena, echoing my sentiments exactly. In the darkness, he smiled in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Come now, I have someone you’ll both want to meet.” His tone stopped the gooseflesh rising over my arms and instead turned my blood to ice in my veins. I could see now, in this moment, just why the Knight of Kisses was a terrifying nickname and a not a derogatory one these days. I swallowed and met Laena’s gaze before clambering out of bed. I was somehow not surprised to find him handing me two dresses made of dark wool. A step down from my usual fare but maybe that was the point. They fit well enough anyway, and we were soon on our way. 

It was odd seeing him without his stick, I mused as he led us past the stables and into the street where a litter awaited us. He was limping badly and I’d bet money he’d be feeling the strain tomorrow… but I supposed even a less ostentatious stick than the silver seahorse and ebony one he had was a dead giveaway as to his identity.

“You asked me to keep an eye on Jerrett,” he explained as we clambered inside. “And something interesting came up.”

“It better be good,” I warned. 

“Oh, I assure you, it’s well worth the trip.”

We wound about the streets, stopping to cut through a darkened alley and get into yet another litter. I understood why, of course. If anyone was following us from the manse, and there would likely be some that would try, Joffrey wanted to make sure they had a hard a time as possible. The original litter would arrive at one of the charities and two ladies who could pass for us at a distance would disembark and remain inside.

If I were not so damn sure Joffrey would die for my children, if not myself, I would be terrified of him.

“You are aware Jerrett has one main opponent in his election run,” Joffrey told us, when we finally climbed out of the second litter and entered a small house on the edge of Flea Bottom. Two men stood guard by a cellar door. They were thugs, that was the best way I could think of them. 

“I was not,” I admitted. “But go on.”

“Wisdom Gregor,” he elaborated. “Magic hardliner and has the old guard thoroughly under his thumb.”

“He sounds fun,” said Laena, dryly. “I do not understand that complaint though, Jerrett is gifted at magic in his own way.”

I suppose she would know, it was he that had set her on the damnable path.

“The politics aren’t important,” said Joffrey, taking a torch from a bracket on the wall. One of the men opened the door. Joffrey tipped him a coin and we all entered. “What’s important is what I found when I delved into Gregor’s background.”

“Let me guess, Green backing?” I asked and he shook his head.

“No, although I’ll grant you that I thought the very same thing. Gregor had money he shouldn’t have had and that normally points to our Reach friends.” It always did, but it seemed Joffrey was enjoying himself by dragging it out so I remained quiet, opting to share a look with Laena, who merely rolled her eyes. “My Princess, meet Wisdom Gregor!”

My heart sank as the light cast by his torch illuminated a man bound, gagged, and chained to the wall for good measure. He was filthy and what rags were present to cover his body all bore some kind of bloodstain. Horror sent bile running up my throat, yet when I turned to Laena, she shared none of it, merely examining the captive with a critical eye.

“What is this?” I asked finally, when I was able to. Regardless of the morality and legality of this… Joffrey would not do something like this without good reason. He would not drag me here to see it with my own eyes, gods wasn’t I a hypocrite, unless he was certain this man had done something truly heinous.

“An arrest,” said Joffrey. “Gregor here has been associating with enemies of the realm.”

I heard his muffled protests and saw him tug at his bindings in response to that, his eyes wide and desperate.

“Explain clearly,” I told him, my voice cold as I forced myself to examine Wisdom Gregor. I had to have faith in my spymaster.

“You see, Wisdom Gregor was quite a shocking pick by his factions, do you know why?” I shook my head as Gregor tried to speak through his gag once more and failed. “He went missing for a while. Disappeared, completely off the map.Twice, even!”

“Let me guess,” said Laena, her voice like the arctic. “The first disappearance was about eleven years ago.”

It took me too long to understand her meaning but when I did, it must have showed clearly on my face because Gregor shuffled back in fear as any hope he had of an ally vanished into smoke.

“Indeed,” said Joffrey, moving to place the torch on a wall bracket. “And the second just five years ago.”

“You consort with my uncle,” I said, tone frosty. Joffrey stepped past me and seized the man’s hair, pulling his head back before unfastening his gag.

“Scream all you wish, Gregor, we have established nobody is coming for you,” he told him and I wanted to shudder. Yet the side of me that pointed out this was wrong was rapidly drowning under the sheer rage that was building at the thought of this man having all the answers I needed, of knowing where Daemon had been all this time, and having never come forward…

“Please, Your Grace, please…” he sobbed. “I never meant-”

“You went back,” Laena said. “You could argue you did not know to begin with but you went back.”

“The magic… the art,” he gasped. 

“Why don’t you tell us all about it?” I suggested. “Start with Bloodstone.”

He raised his head to me and I could see the bruises, the cuts and the blood in the flickering torchlight and in that moment, it bothered me more that I didn’t care about his injuries than the injuries themselves.

“He offered good gold for wildfire,” he mumbled. “We went… By the Seven, Father forgive me…”

“Was it wildfire he blew Bloodstone with?” I asked as he began sobbing once more, curling in on himself. “Answer me!”

“Yes!” he cried when Joffrey seized his hair once more. “We made it while the priests and priestesses watched! I swear we did not know what it was for until it was too late! They burned all those that disobeyed… tortured them!”

I let out a shaky breath.

“What then?” asked Laena. “How did you get away?”

“Those of us deemed useful… they put us on a ship with his woman… a ship to Lys…” he gasped. I met Joffrey’s dark eyes and found no pity for our captive there either. “His woman said we should leave… go home and await… await her word.”

“Mysaria,” said Joffrey. “She fits the description. Pale and second only to Daemon himself. Tell them what you told me! About ‘his woman’.”

“She was pregnant! She was pregnant when we left! I don’t know how long-” Joffrey let him go as shock hit me. It was like being punched in the throat and from the way Laena physically staggered under the weight of the knowledge, I was willing to bet she felt the same.

“Your second dragonrider,” said Joffrey, lifting us both from our shock and horror. “About a year younger than Luke at best.”

“Gods,” I said to no one in particular. “So young…”

“You went back,” said Laena finally, her eyes even colder than they had been before, I had not thought it possible. She stalked forward. “You went to Gogossos!”

“No!” he cried, his voice full of terror. “I swear on all the gods I did not! I did not! It was to Lys! To see her!”

“She has been rebuilding in secret,” Joffrey said quietly. “Men loyal to her that will be ready to move when Daemon is.”

“Can you track them?” I asked. 

“Some are obvious, like Gregor. Others-” he shrugged. “They do not communicate with her, they do not act in his interests… all I can do is plan for the worst case-”

“And your friend?” I asked, interrupting him. “Would he be interested in this information?”

“I will lead him to the desired conclusion,” said Joffrey. “I know not what he will do.”

“Hopefully exterminate them if he can,” I replied, watching Gregor as he watched us, his eyes wide with fear. “He wants the game to be limited to two. Mysaria returning to it will not thrill him.”

“It makes sense. Then again, so does him using it against us. You have angered Her Grace recently-”

“Enough about Alicent!” growled Laena. “I want to know about Mysaria!”

Joffrey nodded then shrugged at me before approaching the captive once again.

“Tell my wife about your trip to Lys, Gregor. Tell her about the girl.” The girl… Daemon had produced a girl… Only a girl? Not a son as he had long desired?

“The girl… she was young. I don’t know how young. Pale. She wasn’t supposed to be there… his woman was furious-”

“No other babes about? No signs of any recent pregnancy?” Gregor shook his head miserably. 

“I only saw the girl,” he whispered, terrified. “I thought she would kill me for it…”

“She should have done,” I reasoned. “We know he has a daughter now. The identity of the second rider.”

“Only one,” spat Laena. “Perhaps his whore couldn’t give him another.”

“She has a history of losing them,” I told her, shuddering at the memory of the night my fingers were broken. Without thinking, my hand went to them only to realise I had not put my prosthetic on when I’d left when I found empty air where the little one should be. I swallowed thickly, trying to make sense of it all. To be woken in the dead of night, to find Joffrey had tortured and broken a man… to find Daemon had a daughter, a second rider who was unlikely to betray him.

“Tell me of the priest and priestesses you mentioned,” I commanded finally, after all that broke the silence was Gregor’s sobbing. “Are they R’hollor’s followers?”

He nodded, miserable.

“Not of Volantis,” he said finally. “They said those in Volantis were fools. They argued about it enough that we… that we heard them.”

“What did they argue about?” I asked. The more I heard of this, the less I liked. Hadn’t Melisandre been the type to disagree with the head priest and go her own way? I swallowed again. If these priests were like her…

“They thought those in Volantis were being fools but about what they did not say,” he replied only after Joffrey took a threatening step towards him. “We only heard them when it became heated! I swear! Please…. Please…”

I caught Joffrey’s eye, feeling like my heart was in my throat. I knew what would happen to this man now. More questioning by those thugs upstairs and then death, likely before the sunset tomorrow. I could save him… I could order Joffrey to release the wretch into Flea Bottom. He might even take an entire day to convince a few people of his ordeal but it wouldn’t be much longer before he came to Alicent’s notice… or Mysaria’s, apparently.

No. No, it could not be done. He must die. 

“Laena,” I rasped. “Do you recall the magic I described to you?”

It took her a moment to understand but I saw the light of understanding dawn behind her eyes and she nodded, seriously.

“I do. What about it?” she asked, curiously. Recognising my dismissal, Joffrey stepped forward and wrestled the gag back into place, Gregor sobbing and fighting the entire time.

“We will likely need some kind of defence against it,” I said, going for the door and feeling like a coward for not once looking back at the dead man’s face. “A shadow baby delivered on dragonback…”

“Formidable indeed,” she said, beginning to follow me up, glancing back herself with a dubious look. “I will… I will find some way to ensure you are safe.”

“Good,” I replied, stepping past Joffrey’s men. “I dread to think what he could do with that… power at his fingertips.”

“The Alchemists would have been bad enough,” murmured Laena. “How many would have died to the wildfire they would make for him?”

“He won’t have them,” I stated as Joffrey appeared at the top of the stairs and took a few moments to lean against the frame. “And as for his men, we will burn them out of Westeros like the disease they are.”


	168. New Life - Chapter 143

It was somewhat grating to find Larys sitting at the desk in father’s solar when I had specifically requested a private meeting between the two of us. I had hinted heavily it was to do with Daemon, however, so perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Your Grace,” said Larys respectfully and I wondered if Joffrey had sent his message yet. “You have been busy. Please pass my thanks onto Ser Joffrey for the warning.”

“I shall,” I replied, voice cool. “But he would say that words are empty unless backed by action.”

“You wound me, Your Grace,” said Larys, affecting a hurt expression. “I will do my duty as Master of Whisperers.”

“You will serve your own goals and needs before any other, Larys,” I told him and he smiled again. “But I trust this matter at least is as much a threat to you as it is to me. Need I remind you who will die slowly and screaming should he return?”

Larys’ face darkened at that thought and part of me was surprised he was even acknowledging the idea that I knew what he truly desired.

“All of us, I would think,” he finally said, tone light. “But I understand your meaning, Your Grace, and I shall ensure my part is done.”

I might have pushed the matter even further but the door to father’s solar swung open and father himself stepped in, flanked by Lorent Marbrand. Outside, Rickard Thorne and Garibald Grey stood guard. 

“Rhaenyra,” said father, finally. “You asked for a meeting regarding Daemon.”

He was grim and resigned, I noted. A weariness had settled over him and I was surprised by how much it hurt to see him so… beaten. He had loved his brother, maybe not in the way he thought he should have done, but he had loved him. When Daemon had shown his true colours and burned Spicetown the rage had kept him going but now, a decade later… now it was just grief, as if the Daemon he knew had died horribly and everyone seemed intent on reminding him of the matter.

“I have information, father.” At my statement he turned towards Larys.

“I have heard whispers as well, Your Grace. Her Grace’s own information merely adds weight to the rumours,” Larys said, expression solemn. It occured to me that Larys was like Littlefinger, almost. Dangerous in a way most were not, fiendishly clever and likely, if Maris was right, the type to hold grudges. Yet if you knew what he wanted… he was, I hesitate to think controllable, I doubted he ever would be, but certainly you could work around him.

I wonder if that had ever occurred to Alicent.

“Go on then,” said Viserys. “What news of him?”

“Qarth,” I said and Viserys’ eyebrow shot up. “I know, I was surprised too. I dared not believe it so I sent men to confirm the rumours.”

A lie, technically. Corlys had his sailors scouring every port from here to Slaver’s Bay and not one man was willing to gossip about Daemon, nor the supposed second dragon that Laena’s informants had seen. Yet rumours of such were found, if you looked hard enough. Which meant that whatever Daemon was doing in Qarth, he had found some way to silence those who had seen him since. Beyond the implications… The idea made my head hurt.

“And you confirmed it?” asked father, his fingers drumming on his desk.

“No, not precisely. Nobody could say that they had seen him themselves but enough second-”

“Rumours and whispers in taverns do not constitute information,” said father, voice sour.

“It’s all we have in Essos,” I replied, keeping my tone level. “I was never able to get men there.”

Too focused on Westeros even with the threat of Daemon lurking about. No, not ‘Daemon lurking about’. Daemon was loud and in your face, he’d want you to see him coming from a mile away if only because he wanted you to fear him as he approached. Mysaria was the threat in the shadows.

“It’s true,” Larys cut in. “I was not so internally focused but I have lost three informants this past year and the fourth sends me information that has become suspect at best. I would guess anyone with eyes in Essos is having the same difficulty.”

I suppressed a shudder at that. Joffrey’s informants had merely stopped responding to him. Granted, they’d never gotten as far as Qarth and their reliability had always been suspect at best, but could Daemon’s influence already threaten Slaver’s Bay?

“What does any of that mean?” asked father. 

“It means,” I said, testily. “That Daemon is building a power base and taking steps to ensure we know as little about it as possible.”

“Then he means to come west,” father realised as Larys nodded along with my statement.

“It seems likely,” said Larys. “But as to what he will bring with him…”

“He will have to bypass Slaver’s Bay and Volantis,” I pointed out. “Even with power built in Qarth, that would be no simple feat yet-”

I hesitated. Daenerys had conquered Astapor and Meereen with eight thousand men and three small and badly controlled dragons whilst being a fourteen year old girl with no combat experience. Daemon had another rider, two dragons, at least one of them full-grown, an excellent spy ring and whatever mercenaries would flock to his banner, as well as being a tried and tested general and a terror in personal combat.

“Yet?” asked Larys.

“He might try simple brute force,” I admitted. “It is likely he has priests of R’hollor following him. He could amass quite a following-”

“So he follows a foreign religion now?” demanded father. “He has cast aside the Seven? Fool!”

“In word if not in deed,” I replied. “He likely sees it as following in Aegon’s footsteps.”

I would have to tell him soon. I would… I did not know how he would react though.

“There is something else,” I finally said after father had stewed in his rage over that statement for long enough. “Something a little more troubling.”

“Tell me then,” father said. “How could it get worse? He consorts with false priests and likely slavers… what could be worse?”

“A second rider,” I admitted and father’s head snapped up so fast I thought he might have given himself whiplash. Even Larys was careful to cover his surprise, not fast enough that I did not see it however. “A second dragon.”

There was silence after that, deep and terrible, as father’s eyes travelled from me to Larys and then back to me.

“Who?” he rasped. “The line of Saera come back to haunt us?”

I blinked at that thought. It was true she still had descendants living in Volantis. I had even met the three that had come to push their claims at the Great Council, although I could not recall any of their names now. The first had been the son of a Triarch though, throwing around gold and inviting all who would listen to see that blasted elephant of his. He had been nice enough, he’d known he was unlikely to be selected by the Council. I think his arrival and his display of openhandedness was more an insult to his royal grandfather on behalf of his mother than any real desire for power. The same could be said for his two brothers. One had been the spitting image of Jaehaerys when he’d been younger, and supposedly as good as my great grandfather with the blade too, and people’s amazement at this fact was oft repeated in the taverns of Harrentown. As for the third, well, if his older brothers had been a demonstration of power and family, the third was there to ensure Westeros knew Saera’s line had brains. He had been quick and sly, clever and witty and had charmed women and men alike.

All three had indulged my childish questions with kindness and amusement and there had been no raging, no ill-will when their claims had been dismissed relatively early on in the proceedings. Indeed, Jaehaerys’ rudeness to them had only garnered jokes and the three doubling down on announcing whom they were and telling all who would listen stories of their mother’s wild younger days.

“No, I doubt she, if she still lives, has much love for Westeros,” I told him, stroking my very swollen stomach thoughtfully. Inside, the babe wriggled and kicked. Saera would be about sixty now if she were still alive. “They cared little enough at the Council.” 

“True,” father admitted. “They were there for the spectacle and to see what contacts they could make.”

“No, this rider is much closer to home, I fear.” At my grave tone and hints, Larys got it.

“Ah,” he said. “A bastard.”

“Mysaria’s bastard.” Father’s hands slammed into the table, causing me to flinch, as he pushed himself to his feet and terrible scowl on his face.

“Did I not already seize an egg from that woman!?” he bellowed. “Now I find he gives his by-blows honours they do not deserve once more!”

It would be a very, very bad idea to point out he was being hypocritical. Lucerys had received an egg with father’s blessing and we both knew the truth of the matter. I was not sure if Larys did, though. Alicent was certain she knew, but would Larys lean towards giving Joffrey more credit than he was due? After all, it was a popular rumour that the former Lonmouth second son had set out to seduce his way into a marriage better than he deserved, leveraging a childhood spent together to get close to Laena and dishonour her. Would Larys believe the narrative that his ‘mirror’ was that cunning? Or would he want to believe Joffrey had used Laena’s mess to reach heights many thought he had no business attaining?

All of this musing was pointless, though, if his father or mine had briefed him on the matter.

“Lord Corlys was of the opinion he was likely to have kept some when you demanded he return the ones he had stashed away.” At that, he dropped back into his seat and ran his hands over his face before groaning.

“Lord Corlys has the right of it,” he finally said. “I suspected but… do you know why I was so furious, Rhaenyra?”

“Beyond him giving the source of our power to a bastard and whore?” I asked. Father snorted and shook his head.

“Had they been Caraxes’ eggs I might have let him. Oh, don’t look at me like that! The more dragons in this world the better. No, I ordered him to return those eggs because they were Vhagar’s.”

“Vhagar,” I breathed and father nodded.

“Her last clutch. Father kept them safe… Daemon took them from Dragonstone when he stormed there in his rage after… after Aemma died.” Suddenly, a lot more of father’s anger on that day made sense. To steal eggs from Vhagar’s clutch…

“If I might interrupt, what is clearly not my area of expertise,” murmured Larys. “Would the eggs being from Vhagar be significant beyond sentimental reasons?”

“Not especially,” I replied. “Although Laena is the one to ask these days. She’s the resident dragon expert.”

“I will have her summoned,” decided father. “Larys, let Ser Garibald know I desire her here. Then get working on finding my damned brother!”

Larys stood and bowed, limping out of the room. He had evidently learnt to read my father well then. His moods, his rages… I turned back to him, hunched over his desk. His hands were clenching and opening in a rhythm as he worked through his anger. I could see the muscle in his jaw jumping and I realised that if I did not interfere, did not calm him somehow, he would blow his top before Laena got here.

Either that or have a heart attack.

“Father,” I said gently. His eyes opened, although the anger did not disappear. “I am sorry.”

“‘Tis not your fault,” he murmured, posture losing a little tension and his features softening slightly. “It is not. Rhaenyra, please believe that. It is his, and my, blame to bear.”

“It isn’t yours,” I protested, feeling like mold for lying. “You loved him as any brother should. He decided to betray you!”

“I should have loved him better, I should have given him a marriage he could have been happy in, I should-”

“He was a Prince! He was beloved by all! He would have been satisfied with nothing less than your crown and your throne!” Father chuckled bitterly at that.

“You did not know him then,” he sighed. “He was wild and reckless. Ambitious too, but he loved me. He swore to defend me… had I not made you heir, had I not followed Otto Hightower’s advice, where would we be now?”

“He would have stormed off the moment you married Alicent,” I told him. “And he would have stormed off if you’d married Laena too, so don’t protest that!”

He stared at me, eyes wide, before laughing a little more genuinely.

“Perhaps you are right,” he admitted finally. “Perhaps he was always destined to sunder himself from me…”

“It was always him,” I insisted. “Never you. Even grandfather knew that.”

“Perhaps,” he muttered mournfully. “But I desire a cheerier topic whilst we wait for Lady Laena.”

I smiled as he banished that sulkiness and straightened at his desk. Yet there was still anger and self-recrimination in those violet eyes and there was still tension in my own posture.

“I have a gift for you, my daughter,” he told me with a smile. “I had meant to give it to you on your nameday but truly, I think it better now.”

Oh no. It’s not that I disliked gifts from him, he had given me a crown after all, but they tended to be great or really bad. I watched with a sinking pit in my stomach as he leaned down to fiddle with the lock on the desk cabinet.

“You need not, father,” I exclaimed with what I hoped was not a brittle smile. “I am content-”

“It is a little thing, Rhaenyra,” he laughed, bringing a box up as he sat up straight in his chair. “No need to panic.”

He slid the box over to me and my hands shook as I opened the clasp and flicked the lid open.

“Oh,” I said. 

“Oh?” he replied, looking worried.

“I had thought… I had thought Rhaenys had this?” I murmured, running my hands over the smooth egg. It was cool to the touch.

“No,” said father, smiling again now. Truly… even the rage had died from him. “No, I had it put into storage the day you tamed Syrax.”

I was smiling when I lifted the pink egg, shot through with red, from the velvet it rested on. Oh, it had been a long time. Little Raspberry Ripple.

“It’s for the little one,” he said. “I know you intended to give it another of Syrax’s eggs but I came across it-”

“We will place it in their crib together,” I told him, putting it back into the box. Well, if we were talking about arrangements for dragons… “There is something else I wished to ask, though? Regarding Aemon.”


	169. New Life - Chapter 144

“I swear this one is more active than all the others combined,” I groaned as I shifted in my chair. Next to me, Laenor busied himself with wine, wisely choosing not to make himself a target. I smiled as I noticed the redness of his ears. “Soon you will have another babe to melt over. Another one to spoil rotten.”

“Yes,” he replied, grinning. “And I am forever thankful for both you and my children.”

“Good answer,” said Laena from somewhere beyond Laenor’s elbow. “Have you been taking tips from Joffrey?”

“Maybe Joffrey takes tips from me,” he replied, offended, causing his sister to guffaw in delight. I recalled that of the two men, it was Laenor that wrote his lover poetry in secret. I wonder if Joffrey had ever told that little tidbit to his wife. Likely not, she’d never let it drop if she knew.

“Well, someone has to be the romantic,” I opined, scooping up some juice and smiling at the thought. “And I am of the opinion I am not cut out for such a role.”

“I know,” teased Laenor. “I long for the day you’ll sweep me off my feet and take me off into the sunset but it just never comes.”

At the mental image, I snorted a great deal of pulped orange up my nose, causing Laenor to cackle.

“Ass,” I muttered uncharitably as I tried to mop myself up in vain. “Perhaps I shall go and dance with some of my lords, Laenor, and leave you here with father.”

“Seems terribly unfair of you,” he said with a smile, dropping his hand to my stomach. “To deprive me of your company and leave me all alone and undefended.”

“So now you appreciate my romantic gestures! When I might not be around to play the knight in shining armour, saving you from the attention of the King?” He blushed at that as Laena leaned around him again.

“She’s only the one in shining armour when mother badgers her for a sitting again,” she told her brother. I admit, it was badgering these days. My enthusiasm for wearing armour had diminished greatly around about the time I realised how bad it smelled. It wasn’t awful if you were only in it for a few hours at most, but after a day? Or even half a day of dragon riding? I would be smelling metal and sweat in my nightmares, I was sure of it.

“Must I be so maligned? By my own husband and goodsister?” I asked aloud, earning myself more snickers from the two siblings. It eased something in me to see them approaching their old manner with one another. “Perhaps I shall go dancing.”

“Come now, Rhaenyra- ah, your father’s making his way over.” I blinked in surprise at Laenor’s warning and moved to watch father almost literally drag my youngest sister over, his face settled into that jolly obliviousness that usually heralded bonding exercises and bad ideas borne from good intentions. I sighed and drained my juice, wishing it were wine suddenly.

“Hello father!” I greeted him, voice full of false cheer. “Hello, Viserra. Enjoying the feast?”

“Oh, indeed! I still say your thirtieth year ought to see a grander feast, but I will abide by your decision, daughter,” he told me happily.

“And what of Viserra? I was under the impression you were to spend some time with Aemma and Rhaena?” Helaena might have been the one to spend time with her at this feast, but both her and Aegon were not present, both still wrapped up in their newborn son who was barely a month old.

“I was,” she replied before glancing up at her father with a worried expression. “Father said I should spend some time with you.”

“Indeed. You so rarely see her after all!” he chuckled. I fought the urge to grimace. It was true. I promised myself I would see more of my younger siblings, and then something invariably happened and my promise fell by the wayside. It would not get better in the coming years. I would be away from Court more often than not, flying back every now and again on Syrax. I knew that Aegon and Helaena were unlikely to let up in their campaign to sunder the two from Alicent, but that did little to bind them to me.

It was still Aegon’s desire to attempt to force a Great Council. He could only do so with enough force behind him so that fighting him was the less preferable option. He had half the Reach, a good deal of the Westerlands and some of the Riverlords too. Not enough by itself, but if he could bind enough dragons to his cause it would frighten the Doves, and my own denials of such a council would be drowned out as my more easily influenced supporters clamoured for a peaceful solution.

Explaining that Aegon was unlikely to rebel militarily should he fail to get his Council would be lost on them.

“It is true,” I admitted, shame not entirely faked. “Come, sit with us for a while, Viserra.”

Looking more uncomfortable than not, Viserra clambered into the chair next to me and gave us all a polite smile. One I recognised as likely drilled into her by Alicent, if I knew my stepmother. Father beamed at us all and then dropped a kiss on my cheek.

“Enjoy the feast, daughter. It is not everyday you see your thirtieth year!” His smile was infectious, even if I wished it were not.

“Indeed, father,” I replied. “Do not worry, I shall enjoy every part of it. I even aim to get some dancing done, if the little one wishes to cooperate!”

Father’s eyes went soft as he laid a hand on my belly. Confinement would come soon enough and I was dreading it. I had been confined with Aemon and Aemma and bored out of my skull more often than not, and when I wasn’t bored, I was fretting over Laena. The idea of being in that chamber again was making me feel ill when I thought of it. I would have Laena this time, she had sworn it on bended knee. I waited until father had ambled off before catching my little sister’s eye.

“Come,” I said gently. “Do you not wish to feel the babe?” 

She gave me that bland, polite smile again and dutifully passed me her hand. I had a feeling Viserra was at an age where she didn’t really get babies. Likely she thought them loud and irritating, at odds with her own quiet nature.

“Your newest niece or nephew,” I said as her little hand felt the little one’s kicking.

“I pray they will be healthy,” she said, the stock phrase making my teeth itch.

“Thank you, sister,” I said warmly. “Now, onto matters more interesting, tell me, what books have been reading recently?”

Her eyes lit up at that, even if I suspected she saw through my blatant attempt at using her interests to have at least one non-awkward conversation with her.

“A history of the Reach houses by Archmaester Dalin,” she answered. “It is fascinating, have you ever read it?”

“I believe I may have skimmed it,” I replied, scratching at my chin and trying to recall whether the, admittedly unremarkable, title stood out on my mind. “Is it the one that focused on the children of Garth Greenhand?”

“No, I believe that’s the one by Maester Meryn,” she replied, forcing me to suppress a smile at the speed of the answer. Believe my arse, I’d put money on her knowing I’d gotten it wrong. “Archmaester Dalin focuses on the historical evidence.”

“I see,” I said. “Perhaps I have not read it then. I confess to preferring the myths and legends of Westeros.”

She smiled thinly, too young to know how to hide her thoughts on that. It seemed my littlest sister was a stickler for non-fiction. A contrast to Helaena who hated the dry texts of history and preferred her tales of implausible adventure.

“She is terrible for it,” said Laena, appearing at my elbow as if summoned by talks of books. “I grant those stories have their place in the study of history, but I swear she believes everything is the truth and not some minor house’s attempt to glorify itself.”

“Tell me once more about the Driftwood Throne, dear Laena,” I teased.

“What’s the Driftwood Throne?” asked Viserra, interrupting Laena’s acidic reply. My lover paused before sitting back with a smile.

“It was given to House Velaryon by the Merling King as part of our ancient pact with him,” she boasted. “It is a beautiful thing, Princess. You should see it! It’s huge, its carvings done by no human hand-”

“It looks like someone early in the Velaryon line found an entire tree in the ocean and decided to carve it into a chair,” I said dryly, causing Viserra to smile and Laena’s to look outraged. It was feigned, of course, the throne had been one of the first things she examined and she had sadly declared it absent of any magic or power.

“I am insulted,” she said finally. “Princess, can you believe the audacity-”

“What was the pact?” asked Viserra, curiously. 

“Likely,” I said, shooting another teasing look at Laena, “the Velaryons of old were chosen to ‘look after’ the land in the Narrow Sea for the Merling King, in return for the sea’s bounty.”

“It was something like that, yes,” she mumbled, giving in. She might have said more on the matter and Viserra might have asked more but we were interrupted by an almighty crash. My head turned so fast I swore I pulled a muscle, wincing as many of the lower tables descended into chaos I couldn’t quite discern the cause of.

“What in the Seven?” murmured Laena. I noticed how she moved a little closer, and how her eyes scanned the hall with the alertness of one who’d seen war. A painful twist to my left showed Laenor on his feet as well, grimly assessing the carnage. The fight did not go on for long, though. Guards in Targaryen livery with Velaryon ones to back them up were wading in and seizing the fighters. My heart sank when I realised Aemond was amongst them, struggling as it took two men to subdue him. His lip was busted but there was no other mark on him that I could see. I rose to my feet.

“Keep Viserra company, Laena,” I told her, more intent on my brother. Shock was winning out over anger right now. To start a fight in the middle of a feast… to say nothing of it being a feast in my honour. Father beat me to the mess, his face bordering on purple in rage. Yet it was not enough to cut through whatever had driven Aemond to his own anger, because he was still struggling, still hissing insults to the one other man the guards had singled out. As I got closer, they grew more distinct.

“Say it again! Come on you fucker! Say it! I’ll geld you! I’ll kill you!” 

“Aemond,” barked father. “You will calm yourself now or I will have you in the cells until sunrise.”

At the threat, Aemond paled, his anger draining slightly as he glanced around at the now silent hall. His eyes met mine and it seemed like he was pleading with me…

“Father, perhaps you could allow my brother to explain?” If it wasn’t good, I had no doubt father would follow through on his threat. Damn it, if Aegon were here he could have prevented this from happening…

“Aemond,” he said finally and I noted his hands shook with rage. “I want an explanation.”

“He insulted our family,” growled Aemond, his eyes alight with anger once more. “He said-”

“I don’t care what he said!” roared father suddenly and it was a struggle not to jump in fright. “I have told you a thousand times over to curb your anger! You strike out and shame our family name with the results.”

“Perhaps,” I said quietly, aware that crossing father in public was a bad idea. “Perhaps we should listen to what the knight said that so angered my brother?”

“Well?” snapped father. “What did he say, Aemond?”

“He called Prince Aemon names.” Anger rushed through me and it was all I could to not rush the damnable knight where he stood. My eyes picked out my son who clutched at his uncle Joffrey’s hand, his violet eyes wide and worried. “He said he was unmanly. Unworthy of his place in life - he accused him of being like his father. A sword-swallower. He said only one such as that could enjoy the things he did and be content with being dragonless whilst even his younger sister rode a beast such as Dreamfyre!”

It broke my heart as Aemon realised what that meant for him and dropped Joffrey’s hand as if it were scalding hot. He was doing his best to look angry but I could see the tears brimming behind his eyes. I turned to the knight, hands finding one of the knives hidden in the folds of my dress. I needn’t have bothered, father acted before I could. He strode across to the hapless idiot and delivered such a punch that the knight went over, unconscious almost immediately.

I knew what was coming next and my only regret was that father was unlikely to let me watch as his men carved the knight into pieces.

“Have him sent to the Black Cells,” said father once he’d finally recovered enough from his rage to speak. “Unless any here would speak to his innocence?”

The deafening silence said everything and the man was soon hauled away, blood oozing from his nose. There were none brave enough after the great doors had slammed closed to speak up and break the silence. I wanted to. I wanted to look them all in the eye, I wanted to ask them all how brave they’d been at eight? How skilled they’d been at eight? How half of them would piss themselves now if they had to ride a dragon as men grown? How dare they-

“Should any of these rumours be repeated, you will find yourselves thankful if it is only your tongues I take,” growled father. “Let that piece of shit serve as a warning to all those who would spread false rumours and speculations solely to harm MY family!”

That actually earned a flinch from most in the crowd. I was focusing on the wrong things, I realised. Lightheaded and-

Oh. Oh no.

I tried to speak but no words would come out.

“My grandson is every inch what a Targaryen should be,” father continued, every eye in the room on him and him alone. “And if any of you are fretting about his dragon, I have it on good authority he is soon to tame his own mount! From the Dragonmont no less!”

Which was naturally when my waters broke.


	170. New Life - Chapter 145

“A son, Rhaenyra,” said Laena, her eyes full of worship, handing me my newborn. He was sobbing but not the wail I would have expected. I might have been relieved at a son and then promptly guilty for putting more stock in a son over a daughter, but I was too tired to. I had laboured longer to bring this one into the world than I had with any of my other children. It had felt like it might go on forever and I had been beginning to fear something akin to Rhaenyra’s last pregnancy had occurred. Laena had helped, she’d been there, murmuring comfort all the while and coaching me through… I cuddled my babe close, caressing his screwed up cheeks as he wailed.

Slowly, he calmed in my arms, sobs and wails becoming sniffles. Then he opened his eyes and I nearly choked on my tongue.

“You could have warned me,” I breathed, tone full of wonder. My son peered up at me through mismatched eyes, on blue and one violet. His hair was more gold than silver gold but I couldn’t care at that moment. “He’s beautiful.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It was too good an opportunity…”

She stretched out a finger, brushing it lightly over the little one’s face. He promptly began wiggling, trying to find the source of the touch. His worried warbling earning a giggle from us both before wonder and love snatched away any other feeling again.

“Are you still set on the name?” asked Laena. 

“I am,” I whispered, offering my hand up as sacrifice. My son promptly took it and attempted to put one of my fingers in his mouth. “Hello there, little Viserys.”

“He’s hungry,” said Laena, smiling broadly. “Perhaps he takes after his namesake already.”

I snorted in derision at that and laid back as Laena undid the gown with practised ease, letting me bring him up for his first meal. It took him a few tries, coughing and spluttering more than even I remembered Alys doing. Still, he took his meal in the end and was soon asleep at my breast. His odd, mismatched eyes drifted closed as I rocked him gently. I was aware of Laena at my side the entire time, hand brushing my arm in a way I suspected Alannys and her girls were going out of their way to ignore.

“Viserys,” I said softly. “With any hope, he will take after the second.”

“With hope,” said Laena. “Do you wish for me to summon Laenor?”

“And father,” I replied. “I intend to tell him the name was Laenor’s idea.”

It had not been, but it would win some points for Laenor in father’s eyes. I had not been intending on naming him Viserys when I’d first gotten pregnant, I’d still had my heart set on Baelor for the Prince who had bore the name Breakspear. Honourable, kind - the type of man Aemon would need by his side. Then I’d spent an afternoon with father in the gardens, relaxing after a Small Council meeting, and the revelation that he was my greatest supporter had smacked me upside the head when he’d stared at me with the wide smile of pride…

I’d spent a few days fretting over the matter before bringing it to Laenor’s attention. The second Viserys hadn’t been so bad, I reasoned. He’d been loyal to his brother, he’d practically ruled the realm for him at times when his brother’s world became too black… Aemon would benefit from a man like that as much as he would benefit from a Baelor Breakspear. Oh, I knew there was no guarantee that my little Viserys would be like the Viserys of canon, but I could start by giving him the name at least.

And, I’d also reasoned, if father ever had reason to waver in the coming future, I could just drop little Viserys on him for a few hours and his wavering would cease entirely. What did it say about me that I had considered the emotional blackmail potential of my potential son’s name? Nothing good, I supposed. Finding a name for a daughter had been a bit harder. My gut had been for Visenya, but I could also understand that associating myself with that name would be a bad idea. Too associated with Maegor and too associated with the one babe Rhaenyra had failed to carry to term. It seemed like tempting fate.

I admit to considering Rhaenys, if only to see the dumbfounded look on my goodmother’s face, but if there was ever a time to name a babe Rhaenys, it was long past. Jocelyn fit it best, I had to admit. Corla was considered along with Larissa, Valaena once more and Baela. I’d have found it easier to name a child of mine Baela instead of Baelon, but it had been Laena that had mentioned a need to honour the Velaryon side of her heritage. We’d settled on Elaena, in the end. Another name that bore my hopes for what she would be. Talent wise at least, used as a breeding mare by her morally bankrupt cousin was not one of my desired ‘career paths’ for her.

“Rhaenyra,” said someone quietly and I forced my eyes open to find Laenor leaning over me, a soft smile on his handsome face. Just past him, father hovered anxiously, his face pale. He was always like this… fretting away until he held the babe.

“Hey,” I mumbled, sleep dragging my eyes closed again. “A son.”

“A son,” murmured Laenor. “Have you named him?”

“You know what I named him,” I replied before yawning and forcing my eyes open again. “You suggested it.”

I’ll credit him with getting it straight away instead of looking puzzled.

“I’m glad you accepted my suggestion,” he said a little louder, giving me a roguish wink. Then he stood and accepted his son from Laena’s arms, smiling down at Viserys until I thought he might have strained something in his face.

“Your Grace,” he said respectfully as father eyed him in the manner someone might eye a dog they were unsure would bite or not. “Might I introduce you to your newest grandson, Viserys of House Targaryen.”

The suspicious look fell as my father melted. His bottom lip wobbled as he struggled not to lose it entirely, instead taking the babe from Laenor as if he had been offered some priceless and impossibly delicate treasure that he feared he may shatter.

“I could not resist when Laenor suggested it,” I croaked, earning myself a watery smile. Laena sat beside me, taking my hand gently. Gods, I felt as if my head were the only part of my body anchoring me to the bed, that without it I might just float off. The world seemed to swim around me for a moment. I watched in silence as father rocked the babe back and forth, murmuring praise to him.

I saw the exact moment my son opened his eyes.

“By the Seven,” breathed father, his eyes widening almost comically.

“Point taken,” I mumbled at Laena, who laughed softly and began stroking my hair back from my face. “Does Laenor not wish to hold him?”

She shot me a puzzled glance.

“He has? For quite a while?” I blinked in surprise before she gave me a little smile. “You slept through most of it, I think.”

“I must have,” I said back, turning my attention once again to my father and Laenor, both of whom were marvelling over Viserys’ eyes.

“-like mother,” father was saying. “Although her eye was green.”

“It sounds beautiful,” said Laenor, and father smiled sadly. 

“Yes. She was unique, my mother,” he replied, before peering at Laenor. “I hope Viserys has something of her in him.”

“As do I,” replied Laenor solemnly.

“Rhaenyra,” whispered Laena. “You’re drifting again.”

“Am I?” I asked, a little louder than intended, attracting the attention of both the men in the room.

“What is wrong?” asked Laenor, needing only a few quick strides to reach my side.

“I’m tired-”

“She needs rest,” said Laena, interrupting me. “Could you keep an eye on her? I need to go wash up.”

I blinked at what sounded like an excuse.

“Laena?” I asked. She gave me a thin smile.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised, before disappearing through the door, only the telltale sound of water telling me she’d stopped to wash her hands.

“What’s wrong?” I asked and Laenor shrugged.

“You know what she’s like,” he finally said, although I could see the concern etched into his features. “Although I’m inclined to agree with her when she says you need rest.”

“I’ve just given you another son, Laenor,” I told him, letting my head fall back into the pillows. “You are supposed to call me beautiful.”

Surprisingly enough, that got a chuckle out of father, who was still cradling Viserys close to him as if he feared his namesake might vanish.

“Forgive me,” said Laenor gently, dropping a kiss onto my forehead. “You are always beautiful, no matter the circumstance.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Sleep was pulling at my eyelids once more when a thought floated through my head. “But our Viserys is healthy though?”

“Yes,” replied Laenor, his smile wide. “As healthy as any man can hope his son will be.”

“Healthy enough to travel?” I asked.

“In a few months,” replied Laenor, his eyes flickering to a suddenly wooden faced father. 

“Travel?” he asked.

“A Progress. I should see all the kingdoms, shouldn’t I?” My words were slurred. Wasn’t that odd…

“A Progress,” he repeated. “How long have you been planning such a thing?” 

“A few months,” replied Laenor. “But truly, the birthing chamber is not the place to discuss such matters.”

As if on cue, Viserys awoke and began wailing loudly. Father shushed him, rocking him gently, but my son was not to be calmed or mollified. Father sighed, barely audible over the noise.

“This is more of your politics again, isn’t it?” he asked, annoyed. The love, the pride from earlier was gone, and it hurt.

“Even if it wasn’t, I still need to do it,” I replied. “I am not you. You came pre-approved.”

“Pre… what?” he asked, looking to Laenor as he rocked Viserys almost absent-mindedly. “What is she talking about?”

“She means the Great Council. Your rule was always secure because the Lords elected you,” sighed Laenor, holding out his arms for his son. Father handed him over reluctantly, looking disgruntled.

“Do you resent the fact you aren’t king?” father asked finally as Laenor put Viserys into his cradle. I caught my husband’s eyes and he shrugged, helplessly.

“No,” he finally replied. “The Seven know I do not envy you, yet even Aegon, were he your heir, would need to make a show of winning the support of the lords if he wished to rule as you did.”

Father looked unsure at that, sitting down gently in the chair next to the cradle. I fought to stay awake. This was important! Yet it was so hard, it felt as if weights were attached to my eyes.

“You believe it necessary for my daughter to rule?” he finally asked. “This is not some plot or ploy to further divide the Court?”

“Jaehaerys travelled,” I pointed out. “So did Aenys, Aegon the Uncrowned and the Conqueror was barely in the capital.”

“I take your point,” growled father, raising his hand to massage the bridge of his nose. “I do not like the idea of you roaming Westeros though.”

“One Grand Progress to show them all the might of House Targaryen,” I pleaded. “To show them my heirs, to show them the strength of my consort.”

Laenor blushed at that even as father eyed him speculatively. The chamber fell silent for a while and I was keenly aware that the only sound was my own heavy breathing.

“It is not a punishment either?” he asked finally. “I know well your grudges.”

“Punishment?” I asked, peering at Laenor in confusion. “What for?”

“Larys?” he said and his voice was bitter. I had never heard that tone from him before.. “For not jumping to your command when it comes to Daemon? For marrying Alicent? For pushing aside your allies-”

“It is not,” said Laenor firmly. “If Rhaenyra were not half-conscious, she’d be furious with you for thinking so.”

“So you say,” said father, leaning back in the chair and sighing. “Was it not you who suggested naming the babe after me? Not my own daughter?”

“I wanted Baelor,” I finally said, recalling the name I had suggested if the twins had been born boys. “He said my honouring should be more direct.”

Gods, I was so tired. Yet my protestations did the trick and father’s expression softened.

“We will discuss this at a later date, Rhaenyra,” he said gently, standing up and crossing over to me. “When you know what you are saying.”

“I am fine,” I insisted. “Perfectly capable of speaking.”

“Of that, we do not doubt,” said Laenor, appearing at father’s side. “But giving birth is an exhausting task. We have kept you from sleep for far too long.”

“Fine,” I mumbled, trying to make myself comfortable. “We’ll speak when I wake up.”


	171. New Life - Chapter 146

“Drink some more,” urged Laena, pouring out some clear water.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, before shivering and pulling the blanket higher around my neck. “Truly, Laena.”

I knew why she was worried of course… a fever after childbirth such as mine could be deadly. It had killed her in that other timeline. Had she realised that? Was this what was pushing her into this infernal hovering?

“Laena,” I warned and she dropped back into her seat with a sigh. “Gerardys has stated it is only a mild fever. Easily treatable with the penicillin.”

“He also said that his stocks of the stuff were perilously low.” It was an ongoing issue. Finding a strain that reproduced fast enough to create a stable supply of antibiotics was a pain in the arse. Gerardys had marginally improved the yield on his strains by repeated experimentation, but it was still not ideal. There was, however, enough for the Princess of Dragonstone, no matter what Laena might think. I was recovering well according to Gerardys. He was very proud about it. I groaned as pain caused my stomach to seize.

“I will be fine in a few days. Two weeks at most.” She didn’t look convinced and I sighed, letting my head fall back into the pillows. I ached everywhere, as if I had gotten the flu in addition to my stomach pains and pain in… other areas. “How are the children?”

“Worried,” she replied softly. “Even as young as they are they know what a childbed fever is.”

“You have told them not to worry, right?” I asked. I wanted to be with them, I wanted to be with little Viserys. “Have they met Viserys?”

“Yes, I have told them not to worry and no, they have not met their brother yet,” Laena assured me. “He is with Sera right now, no doubt crying for yet more food.”

“He deserves his mother’s milk,” I whispered and she grimaced. Alannys and Gerardys had made the decision for me and Laenor had agreed. I’d fed all four of my children at my breast, yet I wouldn’t be allowed to feed Viserys. A blessing maybe, considering we would be travelling soon enough, but also a curse. I had come to appreciate how close I felt to them as their mother when I had fed them.

“If you drink some more water and sleep a little, perhaps we can persuade Alannys to let them come and meet their brother and comfort their mother as well.” I smiled at the obvious attempt at bribery and pushed myself up, wincing in pain as I did. My stomach was round and tender and the rest of my body did not feel that great either. I took the cup though, wincing at how cold it felt on my warm skin, and sipped at it obediently. Under her watchful gaze I drained the cup.

“Sleep,” she said as I handed it back to her. “I will bring your children to you in a few hours.”

“This has you more worried than you’d like to admit,” I teased and she snorted, leaning forward to brush my hair from my face. She didn’t answer though, beyond finding some problem with my bedding and rearranging it around me before tucking me in, mother hen that she was. Sleep was not easy or particularly restful but I certainly tried my best. One moment I was hot, too hot for the sheets and the next I was freezing cold. My stomach would not let up aching and my skin was tender against everything it touched. No matter how much water I sipped at, it proved completely unable to fend off a headache that soon had me grimacing away and my sleep even more disturbed.

I was quite surprised and a little annoyed when my door was opened to reveal Aemon. My son shut it quietly and crept closer to my bed, before pausing with a guilty look when he noticed I was awake.

“Auntie Laena said you were better,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Somewhat,” I replied, swearing to myself I wouldn’t play the grouch in front of him. He looked worried, pale. Paler than I’d seen him in a long time, actually, and there were bags under his eyes when I studied him in earnest. No eight year old should have bags under his eyes. “Come, sit.”

He did so, shooting a pained glance at me before clambering into the chair that might have been mistaken for Laena’s bed these past few days I had been ill.

“I will get better,” I told him. “I just need rest and medicine.”

“Gerardys said that,” said Aemon, fidgeting. “But-”

“But nothing. My former Maester did not lie. I will be well before you know it and harassing you about your morning lessons.” He didn’t smile at the poor attempt at a joke, instead he flinched and I wanted to weep for him. We had not had time to speak since the debacle at my nameday feast. “Aemon.”

At my soft calling of his name, he glanced up and I could see tears in his eyes and his bottom lip wobbled.

“Oh, my boy, come here.” He hesitated for a moment.

“I won’t hurt you?” he asked in a painfully small voice.

“No, no you won’t, as long as you are gentle.” It was testament to how much he needed me that the reassurance was all it took for him to climb up next to me and curl close. I draped one arm around him as his head rested on my collarbone and used the other to stroke at his hair gently. “The feast?”

“Are they all saying that?” he whispered. “That I am not good enough?”

“No, only those who wish to divide the court,” I told him firmly. “Only those who wish to see us both fail. I am sorry, my son, I should have protected you better.”

“I went to all my practises,” he told me. “Papa said I didn’t have to but I went. I even disarmed Luke!”

“Well done!” I laughed, even though it made my stomach hurt. “I am proud of you! Your cousin is no pushover in the yard.”

“He thrashed me after,” admitted Aemon, his ears red.

“But you disarmed him first. That’s the most important part,” I said, tapping his nose gently and earning myself a smile through the tears that still threatened. “One day, you’ll be better than even your papa, I have no doubt about that.”

“Papa says he isn’t very good,” Aemon mumbled and I laughed again despite the pain.

“He’s better than he thinks,” I assured my son. “And you will be greater than even him.”

“I… I am sorry I miss my classes,” he said, sitting up with that guilty look on his face again. “I’ll go to all of them.”

“Aemon, there is no need. I want you to be happy, you need not change because of one drunk knight.” He brought his knees up beneath his chin and stared at me mournfully. I sighed again and motioned him in close but he shook his head.

“I’m scared,” he finally admitted. “I wanted… I want a dragon, mama, but…”

“But you are scared,” I finished for him and he nodded miserably. I stretched out my hand and he stared at it for a moment before taking it gently, as if he feared I might break at the touch.

“I was scared too,” I told him. “I felt so very young on that mountain. I kept thinking how nobody knew where I was… Syrax followed me for some time before I realised she was mine. I thought she wanted to eat me. Every time I turned around she was there. It was like she was hunting me.”

He said nothing to that but his face grew thoughtful instead of ashamed, and I chalked that up as a win.

“I think,” I said finally, “that it is more sensible to be afraid. Look at your aunt for example. She clambered atop Vhagar, the last living dragon of the Conqueror and it never occurred to her she should fear it until much later.”

“Aunt Laena is not like most,” he said solemnly and I smiled at him.

“No, no, she is not. I think if you asked her now, though, she would not do it. She has learnt.” He stared at me some more, pulling back his hand to wrap around his shins.

“He said it was unmanly-”

“Unmanly, my arse,” I said, a little louder than I intended. “Pardon my Braavosi… Aemon, how many of those so called brave lords do you think would gladly approach a dragon and feel no fear?”

I watched as his face twisted at that, what he ‘knew’ warring with the answer before finally he sighed and gave in.

“None,” he admitted. “Most don’t even like Skywalker or Dreamfyre…”

“None,” I confirmed. “They expect from you at eight what they would not do themselves at eight and ten.”

“It still feels wrong,” he said. “Alys wasn’t afraid when she went up the Dragonmont.”

“Alys was a fool,” I said dryly. “Too much like the aunt she thinks she hates.”

“Alys doesn’t hate Aunt Laena,” he said with a shrug and a small smile. “She just gets frustrated-”

“I’m glad to hear that!” Both our heads whipped towards the door and Aemon went white as Laena stood, the light from the hallway haloing about her. Her arms were crossed and her mouth set in ‘disappointed mother’-mode. I wanted to giggle at the sight of it but thought better, Aemon was unlikely to appreciate it and Laena’d probably just assume I had backslid into delirium. “Aemon-”

“-is merely keeping me company,” I said quickly. Aemon gave me a panicked glance before looking swiftly back to Laena. She had not taken my excuse particularly well. “Laena, please. He was worried for me…”

She relaxed a tad and I heard Aemon start breathing again.

“Go find your sisters whilst I sort your mother out,” she said, tone still rife with steel. “I’ll send someone to fetch you when she’s ready.”

“And Viserys?” asked Aemon, hopping off the bed.

“And Viserys,” confirmed Laena. “Your mother is eager to have you meet him.”

“I’m right here,” I observed, causing her to roll her eyes. 

“Indeed you are,” she said. “Go, Aemon. We will talk about you slipping away later.”

“Don’t go too hard on him,” I implored her, once he’d left at speed and Laena had shut the door. She didn’t answer, moving from the grate where she had managed to coax a fire into being to the various candles dotted about the room. “Laena…”

“Do you feel better?” she asked after I had trailed off with a whine. “I see you drank the water I left.”

“Headache,” I told her. “It’s not as bad as it was.”

“And your stomach?”

“Still sore and tender. You are ignoring my question though.” She sighed and looked down, which might have worried me until I realised she was fighting a smile.

“Aemon is as stubborn as his mother and just as crafty,” she finally said. “Alright, I’ll go easy on him.”

“He fears the knight’s words,” I said as she approached the bed and began pulling back the sheets and covers. “It hurt him.”

“The knight is dead,” said Laena, as if she were commenting on little more than the weather. “Your father evidently decided to channel his worrying into making an example of him. He is decorating the battlements of the Red Keep in bits.”

“I wanted him dead,” I admitted, moving to let her pull the sheets back around the bed. There were maids that could do this, as I’d pointed out before, but Laena was intent on playing nurse. “But perhaps it was not the wisest choice.”

“Any lord in your father’s position would have done the same,” said Laena, tapping at my side to get me to roll over. I did so, wincing in pain at the exertion. “You fear it looks as if you fear the accusation?”

“Yes,” I replied, rolling back. She laid a gentle hand on my stomach, making me flinch at the contact.

“To do nothing would be to look weak,” she assured me. “Let your father handle the repercussions.”

“But he has put the onus on Aemon,” I complained as she began attacking my pillows. “He has all but forced Aemon to scale the Dragonmont with his hasty words.”

“True,” she murmured, pausing. “But it is not the problem you think it is.”

“Is it not?” I asked bitterly. “Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost - they are the only famous dragons to remain that Aemon could expect to tame. The only others are nameless or-”

“-the Cannibal,” Laena finished for me. “I will fix this. I will have the watchers scour the Dragonmont for a mount worthy of a King. I will guide him to it myself. I will have Vhagar nearby in case of any unwanted attention.”

I let out a breath of relief, a knot of tension in my chest unwinding.

“Truly?” I breathed. “Thank you. I know he will not fail with you by his side.”

“I wish for more time but… but I will have him ready. Tell him he will go up the day after his nameday.”


	172. New Life - Chapter 147

If the knight were not already dead, I would kill him myself. It hurt so much to see my solemn little boy’s smiles, so hard won already, die entirely. Instead, they gave way to a determination that only an eight year old could manage. If he was not practising in the yard with Laenor, he was with Laena, dutifully learning all he could regarding dragons and their taming. His work was less doodled these days and he had yet to even try and draw his new brother, something that he had been excited to do before that knight.

“Have you thought of making him your official cupbearer?” asked father, cradling his namesake close. “After his nameday, of course. It would do wonders for his confidence.”

“Perhaps,” I mumbled. We were sat in the Small Council chamber having seen off the others. I might have left myself but Falena had appeared with my son and I knew when a plot was afoot. She was outside now, waiting with Ser Steffon and Ser Willis for us to emerge. “I wish you had left the bastard for me to kill.”

“And have those vultures say that he hides in his mother’s skirts?” asked father, before cooing in delight as Viserys managed to catch his chin with a pudgy hand.

“You speak sense,” I replied, sinking into my seat. I was still healing from his birth, still on reduced duties for this past month, but Alannys and Gerardys assured me I would be ready for when we planned to travel. A few months yet, at least. I eyed father, waving a single finger in front of his newest grandchild, much to Viserys’ consternation, if the flailing were anything to go by.

“We have not spoken of the Grand Progress yet,” I observed, well aware I was walking on eggshells with the matter. Still, he would not grow too angry with my son in his arms, I was sure of it. His features did still darken slightly though.

“You kept it from me,” he finally said. “I hold no illusions as to that.”

“I did not mean to,” I assured him. “It was not set in stone until a few months ago.”

“Yet you still would not have told me.” His tone was full of accusation. “It was the fever that saw me find out.”

“I am sorry,” I said, meaning it more than I was quite comfortable with. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“And when would that have been?” he asked, voice rising in pitch as Viserys wiggled away in his arms. “The day before you left?”

“When you would not take it as you did,” I replied tartly. He sighed.

“I apologise for accusing you-”

“You need not. I know what it looks like.” He looked up at me for the first time since our conversation began, his eyes studying me for a few moments as he processed that. Then he smiled, finally. 

“I did speak with Alicent quite harshly, you know?” he said and I tilted my head in question. “For the night of little Rhaekar’s birth. Her behaviour was unacceptable.”

“She was scared,” I said, taking the moral high ground in the matter. It would win me points in father’s eyes. Indeed, my defence of her brought a smile to his face, even if it was a little strained.

“She was,” he said softly. “But armed knights? Speaking so harshly to you? Don’t look at me like that, Ser Arryk may have played the blind man but his brother was not so vague. You had words, I am certain of it. Then there is her behaviour after Aegon revealed Rhaekar’s name! I wonder sometimes…”

“It was ill-done, I confess. Aegon surprised her with the name change and she takes surprises badly. Especially since he was named for me and we had just, as you say, had words,” I replied, not recognising the look on his face. In his arms, Viserys began crying and he glanced down, snatched from his thoughts with a guilty look on his face.

“Here, take him. I fear he wants his mother.” I did as I was told, rocking my newborn babe back and forth until he calmed. “Will you consider allowing him to share his lessons with Rhaekar?”

“If Aegon asks, I would consider the matter.” Father chuckled at my response.

“He said the same thing,” he elaborated after I glanced up in confusion. “He is a good boy, Rhaenyra.”

“I know. Father, I do not wish my brother ill. I love him. I just wish that he was not so… dense about matters.” Father shrugged in response to that.

“Dense,” repeated father, before smiling. “I’ll give you that one. Clever in many ways but dense in others. I know not what to do about it.”

“Perhaps you should discuss with him what his inheritance will truly be?” I suggested. In my arms, Viserys was beginning to doze. “So he knows he won’t be begging for handouts from his big sister. It might focus him. Give him something to look forward too.”

Viserys raised his hand and scratched at his chin, thinking on that suggestion.

“You think he’ll drop the idea of a Council if he has land?” he asked. “If he has something bigger to lose than just honour?”

“It could not hurt,” I said finally. Honestly, the idea had been a spur of the moment. I had highly doubted that it would move Aegon to abandon his plans, especially since he believed the throne was his by law and that he was only doing his duty by claiming it, but spurning such a generous offer from an older sister that did not have to do so would lose him points in the eyes of many. 

“Hmmm,” hummed father. “I will think on the matter.”

“I’m sure Aegon and Helaena would be glad to hear that.” At the mention of my sister, he smiled gently.

“She’s already given Rhaekar his egg,” he told me. “It’s a beautiful one. Paler even than Frost.”

“I have seen it.” Helaena had hardly been quiet about it. Born from her own Morghul, she had been eager to show me the pure white egg that had been propped up next to Rhaekar. My nephew was already advancing on the two month mark. It seemed as if time was flying by, especially when I considered I had celebrated Viserys’ first month on this earth only a few days ago myself. As if in response to my thoughts of him, Viserys cooed in his sleep and attempted to shove his entire fist into his mouth. “It’s a good pick.”

“When will you give little Viserys his egg?” he asked, strangely eager. I thought of Raspberry Ripple and smiled.

“Soon enough,” I assured him. “Do not fear, I have not forgotten my promise.”

He chuckled and flushed at the same time.

“It is easy to tell you are a mother in truth,” he said ruefully. “But then you mothered your siblings enough.”

“I told them stories,” I argued, shifting Viserys about in my arms. “Hardly mothering them.”

“You read them stories, you fretted over them in the cradle, you taught Helaena her sums…”

“Something I’m sure gave Lyman a fright!” I joked and father smiled, but it was a distracted smile that soon gave way to a frown.

“What am I to do, Rhaenyra?” he asked.

“About my siblings?” I really, really did not like this… frustration he seemed to bubble with all of a sudden.

“Alicent,” he corrected me, tone dry as the Dornish desert. “Helaena has complained, Aemond has complained… even Aegon tried to, in his own way.”

“I can not advise you objectively,” I told him, diplomatically, fearing another of his bullshit tests.

“Then advise me subjectively,” he commanded and I raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed again. “You know well what I mean.”

“Give Aegon and Helaena a good reason to be away from Court. Hells, give Aemond, Daeron and Viserra one as well, but let it be their choice if they take it. Remove those that are hers from their posts-” He’d never send Alicent away. Even when she’d been the obvious suspect in a murder attempt on my own life… he’d barely been able to bare it then.

“Like Larys Strong?” he asked and I flinched, recalling the meltdown that had occurred last time he had been brought up. “Lyonel would take it as an insult. He still resents you made the accusation in the first place. He has looked into the matter himself and found no evidence of Larys’ allegiances.”

“Even Aegon knows,” I muttered. “He came to me after Arabella’s death telling me he was intent on exposing him.”

Viserys snorted incredulously and turned to gaze out of one of the windows, bringing one hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“He swore oaths,” he said finally. “But I will ensure he no longer meets with Alicent unguarded. As for your other advice… I will speak with Aegon.”

I relaxed into my chair, letting go of tension I had not known I was carrying. Alicent was the last actor that needed to be gone or at least defanged before father’s death if I had any hope of avoiding the Dance altogether. Father would never send her away but ensuring she had no one to act on her behalf was the next best thing. Then again, I had little hope father’s men would catch Larys in the act of communicating with her. 

I would have to speak to Joffrey about him. Yes, we were technically at peace whilst the two men sought to root out Mysaria’s sleeper agents and try and find her hideout in Lys but Alicent would always be a danger as long as she had Larys. Unfortunately, my own campaigning against him had tipped my hand quite obviously. I couldn’t just kill him, not unless it looked like a very improbable accident or illness anyway. Losing Lyonel’s support if he even thought I’d slain his son would be a blow to the gut… to say nothing of what Sera would say…

My lady did not know of Larys’ true nature. She did not know of Maris’ theory as to the origin of the poison that had taken her ability to have children and killed her twin. One day, she would have to be told but… it was no easy thing. Even now, she found it hard to believe he had thrown his lot in with Alicent when she, her father and her brother were such staunch Blacks. One day, I would need to break it to her in its entirety.

It would break her. 

“Do you have anything more to add?” asked father, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

“No, not really. Nothing realistic anyway.”

“Do you resent me for it?” he asked. “Do you resent that I did not marry Laena?”

The thought of him marrying Laena made me want to screw my eyes closed at the absurdity of it all, as if doing so could banish the thoughts of it. Then came the disgust, that father had been considered a match for my lover was enough for me to have to fight a shudder.

“I liked Alicent well enough at the time,” I told him. “And Laena… I fear your marriage would not have been blissful.”

“What does that mean?” he asked, sounding faintly offended.

“She’s hard to keep in one place,” I told him, aware I was smiling for all that I cursed that adventurous spirit at times. “Ever wanting to be on the move. She would resent the title of Queen, she would resent any man tying her down-”

“It explains a great deal about her marriage, I suppose,” said father, cutting me off. “Does she have a lover somewhere, as you do?”

I spluttered at the implication and he shrugged.

“I can only hope you do. To think of you bound to that man, with no chance at happiness-”

“Laenor is the only man I have lain with,” I insisted. “The only man I will lay with! I am very fond of him and Laena is the same with Joffrey. What was it that old Maester said? More interested in dragons than boys.”

He studied me for a while, before nodding.

“As long as you are happy,” he said. “When are you due to sail?”

I grimaced at the reminder.

“In a few days,” I told him. “My people prepare for the feast and tourney as we speak.”

“Perhaps you should take your siblings too. Is there enough room aboard your ship?” suggested father. I blinked. He moved fast, it would seem.

“I will ask them. It may be they are far more interested in whatever you will think up for them to do.” He smiled at that.

“Do so and I shall tame Alicent. Again.”


	173. New Life - Chapter 148

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s with some sadness I have to announce that The Blacks, the Greens and the Reds will no longer be updating on a daily basis effective from today. I am hoping to update on a bi-weekly basis on both Sunday and Wednesday.
> 
> I do regret no longer being able to keep up with my old pace but several factors have come together that mean I simply can not anymore. I have increased demands on my time, in addition to studying for exams and writing essays as well as a sharp drop in interest in the story across all three platforms I post it to.
> 
> I do not intend to abandon the story, just slow it down a little bit.

“I have given some thought to your travel plans,” said father. “I approve. Forgive my protectiveness.”

It was a testament to my surprise that I looked away from my son, gurgling sleepily away in the cradle, his new egg next to him. We’d all been present for father to lay it next to him, just as we’d all been present for the twins, Aemon, and Aemma. Viserys wasn’t old enough yet to truly appreciate what it was but… well, it was a nice thing. I had vague memories of it myself. I hoped… I really hoped it hatched for him. I wasn’t sure what it meant that only one egg had hatched for my children. In canon, all of Rhaenyra’s children that had ridden dragons had done so via eggs they hatched themselves.

Why then, did mine not?

“You approve?” I asked. “You were still set against it last we spoke.”

“I was struggling to understand why,” he admitted. “Yet Ser Laenor did much to clarify your reasons and… I admit Rhaenys bent my ear on the matter as well.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. My goodmother had demurred at my offer to join us on our grand parade about Westeros, citing a desire to stay with Corlys, who would be bound to the capital by his role as Master of Ships. They were not the only ones I was leaving behind. Maris was staying with Harwin and Marya with Byren - it hurt to think I would be seeing them so infrequently after getting so used to seeing them once a day. I had known it may happen when they married but… well, it was easy to know things, I had learnt.

At least Forrest Frey was accompanying us, so I would not be short Sab, and I suspected it would take a crowbar and a team of very determined men to pry Sera from my children. Falena too, surprisingly. I had questioned her on the matter and she had simply brushed off my concerns regarding the charity as well within Marya’s abilities to manage. Laena… I had not been able to bring myself to ask Laena if she was still intent on not accompanying us. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that it didn’t matter. Not really. She could fly to me and I to her, but…

Perhaps it was foolish.

“She bent my ear as well,” I told him. “This idea of a Grand Progress… I came up with it before the twins were born. I put it aside… it never seemed the right time.”

“Rhaenys disagreed?” he asked, reaching down and brushing his fingers over Viserys’ sleeping face.

“Vehemently. She cornered me on Laenor’s ship on the way back from Dragonstone.” He chuckled at that, a genuine chuckle. 

“That sounds like Rhaenys,” he admitted. “I will miss you.”

“I will be back on a regular basis,” I told him. “I have Syrax… I am a raven away.”

“To have Balerion again,” he murmured. “A great many things would be different if he had not died.”

I waited in silence. In the cradle, Viserys’ hand rose to clutch at father’s finger and his thoughtful face, lined with grief, softened as he glanced down.

“How are your preparations to sail tomorrow going?” he asked, shaking himself.

“I left them to Laenor,” I replied. “He knows the sea better than anyone I know, bar his father.”

“I admit the ship he built… it’s a fine thing.” The praise was begrudging, more fitting to be hissed through gritted teeth. Given that he had spent several nights in the company of one of Joffrey’s ladies recently, I felt he had little reason to complain.

“A tribute to our love,” I said and watched a muscle jump in his jaw. “The next one will be called the Sea’s Kiss.”

“Humph,” said father, trying to coax Viserys into releasing his finger. I hid my smile as I helped him, deciding not to bait him further. My son already had quite the grip and seemed intent on not releasing father’s finger without being awoken. When we finally did accidentally wake him, he started bawling at the top of his lungs.

“I shall leave, Rhaenyra,” said father quietly, dropping a kiss to my cheek. “If I do not see you again before you leave tomorrow…”

“Have fun, don’t burn Dragonstone down and be safe?” I suggested when he trailed off. 

“Cheeky,” he mumbled and made his way out, the telltale sounds of Ser Rickard following him. I rocked Viserys close to me for a while until he calmed enough to be placed back into the cradle.

“Go to sleep,” I told him. “You need all the sleep you can get, little man. The nursemaid will be by soon anyway, you needn’t fear going hungry.”

I wanted so bad to feed him myself, but my milk had already dried up… and it had been fucking painful to boot. Viserys yawned at me and I found myself imitating the action before smiling ruefully at him.

“More like Jocelyn, aren’t you,” I said. “She never wanted to sleep.”

He cooed softly at the sound of my voice, stretching his hands into the air and wiggling. I laughed, despite my sudden mood.

“You are going to be a terror,” I realised, scooping him up. He snuggled against me. “You will not be able to be this close when we are aboard my namesake.”

He cooed softly again, wriggling in my grasp.

“No, no cutie eyes,” I told him, voice falsely stern. “You simply can not. I have duties!”

As it was, I did end up cradling a son aboard the Princess Rhaenyra, just not my newborn one.

“I’m sorry,” said Aemon mournfully. He was trembling against me, I could feel it through my dress. “I’m trying to be brave-”

“Being brave isn’t a lack of fear,” I told him, channelling my inner Ned Stark. “It’s doing something in spite of being afraid. In fact, you can only be brave when you’re afraid. Else it’s just stupidity.”

His hands tightened on my dress and he buried his head in the crook of my neck, coaxing a sigh from me.

“Aemon,” I said, trying for soothing. “Do not feel bad because you fear dragons. You aren’t even nine yet. No one expects you to face a full grown dragon at nine and not feel fear.”

“Aunt Laena said the same,” he mumbled. “She said anyone who called me craven could speak to her on the matter.”

“And Vhagar, no doubt.” He nodded and I felt tears on my neck. I swallowed thickly and decided not to point it out. He was taking it badly as it was… Perhaps it was the only reason I was not freaking out myself. If you had told me a few months ago this was likely to happen I’d have told you I’d be tearing apart the cabin in my anxiety. Yet even though it bubbled away under my skin, surging up my throat every now and again… I found I could keep a lid on it.

My son didn’t need a wreck, he didn’t need to see my own fear, and so he didn’t. He needed to see me strong and confident, convinced he would succeed. When I thought of it like that… it was easy to play the part for him, it would seem.

“Even the most fearless knight would pause at a conversation with Vhagar,” I told him. “Because dragons are scary and most would piss themselves if they had to face one.”

“You swore again,” he mumbled. “You never swear.”

“I do!” I protested, giving him a little nudge. “I merely try to restrain myself around my children.”

He drew back to face me and tried a little smile. The tears had stopped at least, but his smile conveyed misery.

“Father said you don’t know the meaning of the word restraint.” Then he giggled, actually giggled, when my jaw dropped and I spluttered in indignation. Aemon’s smile became a little brighter and I suspected he knew exactly how much hot water he’d just landed his father in. Wait, father?

“I shall have words with him,” I said dryly, after making a show of my offense. “Since when has he been father?”

“I am growing up,” he said, blushing. “He should be father!”

“He will be sad,” I told him, fighting the urge to summon Laena and ask her if she’d mastered necromancy yet. “He likes being papa.”

Aemon gave me a pained look and I sighed, pushing myself upright on the bed.

“Aemon, you remember the conversation your uncle Joffrey and I had?” He nodded solemnly. “The ones about underhanded people? Those that forsake honour and do bad things in the names of their causes?”

“Scheming,” he confirmed.

“You realise this knight… what he said was said to hurt… not because it was the truth. No one thinks that what he said about you was true,” I told him gently, taking his hand in mine. I was inclined to think of my little boy as little, but, I realised with a startling clarity, he was growing. He’d be a beanpole when he was older. It wouldn’t be long before he was taller than me.

It hurt, in some undefinable way.

“Nobody thinks your father is sword-swallower,” I carried on. “He has five children and… they believe he has Addam and Alyn too. The only man to ever accuse him lost a fight to prove it whilst I was pregnant with the twins.”

“But-”

“No buts,” I said sternly. “Loving art is not unmanly, waiting for a dragon less so, unless you’d like to call Aemond unmanly.”

Aemon’s face screwed up before he sighed.

“I guess,” he mumbled. “I know you say ignore the whispers but… they aren’t nice.”

“They never are,” I replied, coaxing him in for another hug. “Else they’d say it to your face.”

He sniffled but did not answer. 

“Laena said you did well enough in her crash course, anyway,” I said, nudging him with my elbow again.

“She made me feel dizzy with all the facts,” he admitted. “But she knows a lot about dragons and she rides Vhagar… she said… she said she’d come with me.”

“She made the same offer to me,” I confirmed. “Do you want her to?”

“Yes,” he said, in a very small voice. “I do. Is that bad?”

“No, I’d call it smart.” He frowned at that, sitting back to peer at me intently.

“Smart?” he asked, his ears going red in a way that reminded me of Laenor so much it made my heart hurt.

“Why not take the biggest, baddest dragon around with you?” I asked, and he tilted his head in thought.

“Everyone else has gone alone,” he finally said.

“There is no rule that says you have to,” I replied, watching as he processed that particular information.

“Noooo,” he said, drawing out the ‘o’. “But… tradition-”

“Tradition, my arse,” I told him, making him giggle again. “It’s hardheaded foolishness. I include myself and your sister in that.”

“Uncle Aemond too?” he asked, smile more cheeky than not now.

“Oh, the worst of the bunch!” Aemon sat back, looking suddenly more cheerful than I’d seen him since my nameday feast, and something eased within my chest. 

“I said thank you,” he said at last. “To uncle Aemond. He was still avoiding grandpapa.”

Aemond had taken exception to how father had handled the whole mess. To accuse him of lashing out and then to lash out himself… I had thought he would come with us for the progress because of that alone, but he’d citid other plans. Aegon and Helaena had turned me down as well, but only because father had mentioned having something in the works for them and they were curious to know what.

“He’s sulking. He does that. He’s still doing it with Alys,” I told my son and Aemon smiled slightly. “I know not how to mend that.”

“I don’t think you can,” he said after thinking for a moment. “Alys… I think Alys really hurt him. I couldn’t forgive Alys if she did that to me.”

“Hmmm,” I hummed. “My clever boy. When did you become so wise?”

He blushed, then smirked.

“Uncle Joffrey taught me,” he said in a sing-song voice. “He says someone has to teach me useful things.”

“Someone is being sassy today!” I exclaimed, leaning forward. I had been intending on punishing him by exploiting certain ticklish spots but I was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Hmmm, come!”

Laena appeared, anxious features smoothing into relief when she spotted Aemon halfway through a dramatic escape from my attempt to grab him.

“I thought you’d fallen overboard!” she joked, coming over to ruffle his hair. I laughed as he smoothed it back into position. “Your sisters are looking for you. Although I have made them promise that there will be no climbing this time.”

That earned a grimace from me as Aemon directed a hopeful look my way. I glanced up at Laena, detecting no meaningful look or ulterior motive…

“Go,” I said, giving in. “Laena can keep me company.”

To his credit, he stopped to give me a kiss on the cheek before he scrambled off.

“He seems more cheerful,” she noted, seating herself down next to me.

“I gave him a pep talk,” I told her and she smiled, although I could detect some tension in her shoulders. “What is it?”

“Memories,” she replied, a little too fast. “I will be fine soon. Why are you in bed? You aren’t feeling ill, are you?”

“Merely tired,” I assured her, shuffling over to make room. “Latch the door?”

She did so and then clambered in next to me, not protesting much when I scooched close enough that our noses might touch.

“It will be fine, won’t it?” I asked. “He’ll be fine?”

“He is your son,” she assured me. “My nephew… He has Vhagar at his back.”

“Do you have a candidate?” I asked and she nodded.

“One of good temperament that I believe will appeal to him,” she told me. “I flew out to look at it a few weeks ago. You should see it, Rhaenyra, it’s more beautiful than any other dragon on the mountain, and just aggressive enough that none could accuse him of choosing a soft target.”

A pit of dread opened up in my stomach at her words.

“Is it?” I asked, voice rasping suddenly. “What… what colour is it?”

She tilted her head.

“Is it one your recognise?” she asked. “Calling it gold is an understatement… It’s… it’s like looking at living metal.”


	174. New Life - Chapter 149

Corlys and Rhaenys were fascinated by their new grandchild, with Viserys being passed back and forth between them, enjoying cuddles and raspberries blown on his belly. I couldn’t fault them, of course. They’d sat through our little private family meal without swooping down on him. They’d even restrained themselves until we had all moved to a different room to gather around a fire in comfort on low couches.

Well, most of us were reclining in comfort. Laenor was on the floor with the children, playing monopoly. I know, I know… it ruins families, but nothing was funnier than looking over and seeing my sweet, innocent Aemma surrounded by ersatz money as she took the rest of the children and my dear husband to the cleaners. And all with an innocent smile on her face. At least my wards were not present. I had a feeling things might get a tad competitive - more so than now.

“Viserys Velaryon!” said Corlys, tone choked with pride, dragging my attention back to my newborn.

“Targaryen,” corrected Rhaenys. “Not a Velaryon yet, my dear husband.”

I watched Laenor wince at her tone, or maybe at the fact Rhaena of all people had just won most of his silver from him. For his sake, I hoped it was the latter. I was not going to get between the two and Laenor should not either. Corlys grimaced at his wife’s tone, clearly fighting the urge to be short with her before he forced it away and beamed at his wife. He received a strained smile in return and I sighed, before directing my attention to the source of the tension. 

“How go your studies, Addam?” I asked. The twelve year old was small in size for his age, although I knew for myself he more than made up for that with speed in a fight, his silver hair cut close to his head and his eyes the usual Valyrian purple. He actually looked quite dashing in his burgundy and black, with a simple dagger in his belt. Ser Rogar had been kind enough to let him join us for the feast, the Gods knew my children were desperate enough to see him given the last trip was cut so short.

“Well, Your Grace,” he answered before Jocelyn elbowed him in the arm. He gave her a look of helplessness and I rolled my eyes.

“Call me Rhaenyra. I believe that is what Jocelyn is trying to say through violence.”

Alys snickered at her sister’s sudden discomfort as Addam went red. It was somewhat sad… Jocelyn and Addam had been close before it had been made clear to him just what the difference between a bastard and a trueborn child was. Their insistent belief they were siblings despite everyone and their own mother telling them they were not hadn’t helped matters.

“Regardless,” I said as Rhaenys lifted Viserys into the air, cooing with delight, “I am glad you are doing well. Ser Rogar reports you are an exceptional student.”

He bobbed his head, ears going red as he stammered out some thanks.

“Your Gr-… Rhaenyra?” I glanced down in surprise. “Might I ask a boon?” 

“If it is within my power, I shall do my best to fulfil it,” I told him kindly, and a look of relief passed over his face.

“The tourney tomorrow,” he said, and I smiled even wider. “Might I compete?”

“Oh! Can he, mama? Rolph is competing!” Jocelyn asked, eyes bright. He was likely aiming to ask for her favour too. I smiled at the thought.

“If Ser Rogar has no objections, neither do I. Your father will be over the moon to hear you have even entered.” His eyes drifted to Laenor and I strangled a sigh. “Addam…”

“My apologies, Your Grace!” he squeaked.

“Mama,” sighed Jocelyn. I gave her a glare and she scowled at her pile of money, woefully low, eyebrows forming an angry V. I charitably ignored the angry muttering.

“Jocelyn, mama and papa both say that Addam is our uncle,” said Aemon, quietly. His eyes flickered to me, clearly worried, though. He was also clearly lying. He might toe the party line better than my other children combined when it came to the Hull boys parentage, but it was clear that he still believed Addam and Alyn to be his brothers. Why had I ever found it funny? I hoped Corlys did not see my guilty glance. The memories of the raw hurt on his face whenever they slipped were starting to grate at me again.

Perhaps it was good to have a distraction from the numb stupor of dread that Laena’s admission had put me into. To make matters worse, Aemon had easily picked up on it. It had taken a lot of reassurance from Laena that my state was her fault rather than his.

Perhaps that was reinforced by the fact she was not here with us, instead in her quarters, desperately flicking through her reports for anything that could replace fucking Sunfyre as Aemon’s mount, Joffrey at her side. She hadn’t known. It was my own damn fault… if I had just been the one to tell her myself… Joffrey was an excellent spymaster and a good man, but something so simple as the colour of a dragon had gone over his head entirely. All Laena had known was that the dragon that had killed original Rhaenyra was called Sunfyre. Joffrey had not waxed lyrical about the colour or its beauty…

She had not even been thinking of the beast when she’d spotted him roaming the mountainside and assumed such a dragon would appeal to Aemon on a base level.

“But-” protested my daughter, before shooting another angry look at me. “Fine!”

The outburst caught everyone’s attention and I sighed, rubbing my fingers across the bridge of my nose in a desperate attempt to release some of the tension building there.

“What is the matter?” asked Corlys as Rhaenys liberated Viserys from his arms in his distraction. 

“It is nothing,” I replied quickly. He did not need the pain of knowing… not again. “Jocelyn is tired and cranky. Come! Bed time for you.”

Her lips thinned into nothingness as she fought with her desire to deny that. Then she sighed and gave in, releasing an explosive breath of air. She was still angry, I could tell. I had no doubt she was likely to explode sooner rather than later. She had been so good since her fall… I had been beginning to believe she’d matured somewhat. That her lessons with me were helping in some way. I waited until we were some distance away from the room before confronting her on the matter.

“What is wrong?” I asked. She was silent for a while, frowning angrily at nothing in particular. I waited in silence. Pushing her was just asking to exacerbate the explosion, not avoid it entirely as I hoped.

“You keep pretending!” she finally said. “Can’t you see how much it upsets him!?”

“I am not pretending,” I told her, keeping the annoyance from my voice. “Addam is not your brother. Your papa is not his father.”

“He is! And everyone says that the only reason grandpapa claims them is because of you!” she cried. “Papa would claim them if you weren’t stopping him!”

“I am not stopping him,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Your papa is their brother-”

“Even grandpapa says papa is their father!” she threw back, face triumphant in a way that made my teeth itch. She’d gotten that from Joffrey, I was certain of it.

“My father,” I said, putting the emphasis on ‘my’, “does not like your papa. He tries to keep it from you, we all do, but it is an unfortunate truth.”

Unfortunately, all that did was make her more triumphant.

“Because he dishonoured you with another woman!” she crowed. Why was this making me so angry? I had weathered such conversations a thousand times before, yet the self-righteous accusations of my daughter were enough to make me want to scream at her.

“He did not dishonour me with another woman,” I managed to say, voice hoarse. “And certainly not with Marilda of Hull.”

“Stop lying!” she yelled. “I know he is my brother! I don’t need protecting! I am one and ten-”

“There is a lot, Jocelyn, that I protect you from, but if Addam and Alyn were your brothers I would tell you!” I cried, cutting her off. She bit back whatever her retort to that was and glared at me.

“Like what?” she finally asked.

“What?” I responded, bewildered.

“What do you protect me from?” she asked. Her eyes flickered to my hand for a moment. “Him?”

“Him,” I echoed, fingers touching the prosthetic gently. She reached out and curled her fingers about it, causing my teeth to grit in discomfort. She was still angry, I could tell, but part of her had gone soft in the face of the reminder.

“I will be as good as uncle Aemond with the blade,” she promised me. “I will be as good as aunt Laena on Morrigan.”

“My little warrior,” I chuckled. “This does not get you out of your punishment.”

“Okay,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. A trickle of dread slid down my spine at that. Jocelyn was not the type to change like the winds… that was more Alys’ wheelhouse.

“Jocelyn,” I said warningly and she gave me a faux innocent look that only further served to convince me she had just decided to do something she knew I would not approve of. I could see it in the way her posture had changed, the way she was trying to hide her smirk and the way she suddenly couldn’t quite keep still.

“I’m not-” She cut herself off before I could.

“Whatever you have just decided to do, do not,” I commanded. 

“I’m not going to do anything!” she protested. “Really, Mama! I swear I won’t do anything like Alys did! No sneaking out! No going where I shouldn’t be!”

“And where should you not be?” I asked.

“The town, the docks, the dragon stables, the Dragonmont-” I waved my hand, cutting her off as she ticked the options off on her fingers. She was up to something and I damn well knew it.

“Jocelyn, please,” I said finally. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“I won’t,” she promised in a tone that told me my pleas had gone unheeded. I grit my teeth.

“Very well,” I said finally, after mentally running through a few solutions. “Understand, if you pull something stupid within our time here at Dragonstone, you will be in for a world of trouble. There will be grounding, lessons on responsibility, lines to do on the chalkboard-”

Her confidence flickered at that.

“Yes, Mama,” she said finally. “I understand.”

I escorted her back to her room, the silence between us bubbling with tension and resentment from Jocelyn’s side. Gods, why couldn’t my children be easy to deal with? Why were they so stubborn? So intent on getting themselves killed? On the way back, I stopped a guard and told him to have Ser Rogar post a knight to the door of Jocelyn’s room after confirming with his own eyes she was still inside, as well as one under her window. I doubted she’d climb out but if she was desperate… When I got back to the room, Aemma had been crowned Queen of Westeros after bankrupting her opponents and was perched on Laenor’s lap, beaming at all her new subjects.

“I’m Hand of the Queen,” said Rhaena as I sat down. “Luke is Master of Ships, Alys is Mistress of Whisperers, Aemon is Master of Laws-”

“You can be Mistress of Coin, mama,” said Aemma, happily. “And Addam is my Lord Commander of the Kingsguard!”

Addam puffed out his chest proudly.

“I shall protect you, Queen Aemma!” he promised.

“What am I?” asked Laenor, mock offence suffusing his tone.

“Husband to the Mistress of Coin, of course,” I replied, making the children giggle. “That, or the Iron Throne itself.”

“Are you saying I am too spiky, my love?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“No, papa!” said Aemma. “You can be in charge of the Goldcloaks!”

“Well,” I said, smiling. “It seems like a solid little administration. Apart from myself… I fear I would make a horrible Mistress of Coin. Do not tell Lord Beesbury you selected me, you might make him cry.”

“We don’t want to do that!” said Alys. “He might stop giving us the honey nut cakes!”

“Aha! I knew he was slipping you all something,” said Corlys in triumph. “Lyonel owes me five dragons.”

“Another game!” said Luke finally. “I want to win back the Crown!”

“No, I’m going to win it this time,” Rhaena told him. “I’m better than you anyway.”

“No, you only win because Aemma helps you,” he sulked.

“A great start to monopoly, then,” I remarked dryly. Rhaenys handed Viserys to Corlys and gave me a wink.

“None of you will win,” she said. “Because I’m going to be Queen next.”


	175. New Life - Chapter 150

Sera attended to me that night, removing my braid and freeing my hand of it’s glove and prosthetic. She chatted away, updating me on what my wards had been up to whilst we had enjoyed the family time. Nothing groundbreaking beyond a small spat between Alysanne and Jeyne. Still, I was more than ready for sleep by the time she departed and I realised that Laena was not yet back. I debated getting under the covers anyway but thought better of it after a few minutes of staring guiltily at the door. She was doing her best, she didn’t deserve ill treatment from me. I pulled on the silken, black and red robe and set off, Ser Erryk falling in behind me as dutiful as ever. He was a cheerful man when he wanted to be although he had no smiles or japes for me tonight. 

In truth, wandering the halls in search of my lady was likely to raise some eyebrows were I caught but the Court had long since recognised we were closer than the average pair of goodsisters were. Most had forgotten the rumours and claims Daemon made and even Alicent made it clear she disbelieved them. Perhaps I ought to thank the Rhaenyra in me’s need to look at every passably handsome man I passed.

As luck would have it, I passed nobody on the way to my old labs. Dragonstone was not particularly full at the moment. A few lords, more knights - all here for the small tourney that would be held tomorrow. There was a modest prize to be won, certainly not enough to bestir many of the bigger names to it. I might have gone all out but I suspected it was not what Aemon wanted. The more eyes were on him, and Dragonstone, during his attempt to tame a dragon, the more pressure he would be under to succeed.

“Have you found an alternative?” I asked loudly, pushing the door open. Ser Erryk dropped into his usual position with a nod.

Laena jerked up from her position on the floor, eyes heavy with sleep and a grimace on her face. No sign of Joffrey…

“We have been looking,” she insisted, before peering about for her husband, conspicuous by his absence.

“Has it borne fruit?” I asked, a smile fighting it’s way onto my face despite the worry. I held out my hand and she accepted it, using me to haul herself to her feet and nearly unbalancing both of us in the process.

“No,” was her reply and my heart sunk again. The feeling of panic edging away at my ability to think. Why was I so afraid of him? He was not Aegon’s dragon? He did not haunt my dreams and my son was hardly going to feed me to him… Yet the mere thought of him was enough for me to tremble. Was this how Laenor had felt about Qarl Correy? How Joffrey felt about Criston Cole? I jumped as she wound her arms about me and pulled me close.

“I can try and track Grey Ghost?” she offered as I let myself be held, sinking my face into the crook of her neck. “He is elusive but the watchers know where he was this last moon. Perhaps if I track him from there-”

“Try,” I murmured. “Please…”

“I shall take him to it’s last known location,” she promised. “But if we can’t find him?”

I shuddered. 

“Then Sunfyre,” I said finally and the very decision made me want to vomit, bile burning up my throat for a brief moment. Why? Laena disrupted the next round of questioning by carding her fingers through my loose hair.

“It will be well. It will not end the way it did in your memories,” she told me. “I swear it. Aegon has been tamed, without him Alicent is toothless.”

“He still wants that blasted Council,” I grumbled. “As long as he is in opposition to me, we will not be safe from war.”

“He is not the type,” she said simply, stepping back. “I may find his ambition distasteful but he is genuinely fond of you. He would not-”

“It will not matter if he is tricked into it,” I groused before shaking my head. I was being pessimistic, as I so often was when I had received an unexpected and unwanted surprise. The Dance would likely not happen and if it did, it would not be the clusterfuck of canon. Yet in my darkest moments all I could see were Daemon and Aegon, each eager to take my crown. The reminder of Sunfyre and how Rhaenyra had failed in the original timeline was only making it worse. “But you are right, I need to stop dwelling on it.”

Laena looked unconvinced.

“Perhaps I can distract you?” she asked, depositing a final kiss on my forehead before bustling over to her workbench.

“I would welcome a distraction,” I told her. “Is this regarding your research?”

“Yes. I have been somewhat successful,” she mumbled in a tone I wasn’t sure I liked, rummaging around in the boxes stored under the workbench.

“Somewhat?” I asked as she reappeared holding a mud brown dragon’s egg.

“I’ve made some progress - it’s just not quite right yet. Do you remember the egg that hatched for Laena Velaryon?” I nodded, more curious than ever now as she placed the egg in the middle of the floor.

“You figured out what was wrong with it?” I asked.

“Something like that,” was her mysterious reply. “It wasn’t the egg. It was how it hatched.”

“Stop being coy, Laena,” I sighed. “Spill.”

She shot me an amused smile and I found myself rolling my eyes in response before I could quite stop myself. I was thirty and Laena still knew how to bait me into acting like I was a teenager again. Judging by the utter delight in her eyes, she knew it too.

“Alright, I’ll explain it as best I can,” she said, a smile still playing about her lips as she remained crouching over the egg. “It’s magic at its heart.”

“I had gotten that, yes,” I bit out, tone as dry as Dorne.

“So, magic needs fuel. In the wild that could be a combination of many things. The dragons themselves, the Dragonmont… I haven’t quite figured out how it works under none test conditions.” She has spent entirely too much time around Jerrett. This is all his doing, I just know it. “So when we place an egg in a cradle, it needs magic to hatch.”

“Ooooookay,” I said slowly. I left the rest of my slight disbelief at that hanging. 

“I’m serious,” she laughed from her position on the floor.

“It’s getting very late, Laena?” Not that I wasn’t desperately curious but her leading statements and sudden amusement was grating on my need to sleep, leftover frustration from handling Jocelyn and the knowledge Aemon’s tournament was tomorrow and we all had an early start.

“Fine, fine,” she said holding up her hands in surrender. Then, much to my horror, lowered her hand to her belt and produced a small knife. It was so habitually hung on her waist these days that it hadn’t even registered to me that she was wearing it. 

“Hey, what-” Then she sliced the palm of her hand. It was odd that most of me was more annoyed with how dramatic she was being than horrified at the self-mutilation. Surely a small prick to the finger would have worked. I watched, mouth hanging open as she began dabbing a strange symbol I didn’t recognise into the surface of the egg in her own blood. It looked… almost Valyrian? Yet not. Certainly one I had never seen although I would admit I was not gifted with languages. I was barely fluent in High Valyrian and only knew smatterings of Tyroshi, Braavosi and Pentoshi. Although Laena had taught me a few swear words in Lysene. 

She was murmuring under her breath too. Strange words that again, sounded almost Valyrian in their musical quality. The stirrings of unease in my gut started up and I shivered, despite how warm it suddenly seemed in my lab. I had not seen… not truly seen her perform magic. I had seen the runes, seen the books, seen the evidence… 

She finished and stepped back, sweat shining on her forehead and her gait a little wobbly. I wanted to reach out to her and steady her but she was just out of reach and my feet felt as if they were made of lead and my hands nailed to my sides. All I could do was watch slack jawed in the impossible heat as the egg began rocking almost violently back and forth, spiderweb cracks appearing on its surface as some light seemed to shine from within.

I knew something was terribly wrong when the maw that punched through the hard outer shell was not a hatchlings maw. It was stunted somehow, not as long as it should be and as it continued pushing it’s head from the egg, I realised it had no eyes. The stirrings of unease became an uncomfortable churning and I clenched my jaw so tightly my teeth ached with the force of it.

In front of me, Laena swayed on her feet, almost falling before barely catching herself. 

Heedless of us both, the monstrous creature kept pushing it’s way from the shell, the noises that emitted from its mouth mockeries of a true hatchlings call. It only served to set my teeth on edge, putting me in mind of nails across a chalkboard. When it was finally ‘born’, I realised there were no wings either, just one long continuous body putting me in mind of a worm or a snake only so jarringly wrong it made my head hurt and my skin crawl.

If this was the creature that had hatched for Baela’s daughter, I understood why Alyn had hacked it to pieces. It was wrong. Unnatural. I knew it in my gut with a strange and sudden certainty. Almost unconsciously, my hand crept towards the one knife I’d taken with me on my journey. Bile burned in my throat as my hand curled around the hilt. Then Laena took a deep breath in and strode forward, ignoring the way the thing twitched and curled on the floor and brought her boot down heavily on it’s head.

It should say a lot that the relief of the creature's death far outweighed my horror at the sound so similar to that of my own maiming at Daemon’s hands. The sound had haunted my worst nightmares yet it was nothing compared to the horrifying thing that had just hatched from the egg at Laena’s command. It’s death was like a spell being broken and I staggered back, my limbs like jelly, forcing me to grab the workbench for support.

I gulped down the suddenly cool air, shivering as I realised I was sweat soaked. My stomach cramped suddenly and I groaned with the force of it, still clutching the workbench as if it were the only thing saving me from falling. I couldn’t speak, even when I opened my mouth to demand what the hell that thing had been and why she thought showing it to me had been a good idea. My head ached fiercely, feeling heavy and forcing me to bow my head slightly.

“I’m impressed,” said Laena quietly. “The first time I did it, I threw up.”

I still couldn’t answer her.

“It’s… I can explain,” she finally said as my silence went on.

“Do,” I managed through gritted teeth and she winced.

“It’s not… we only react that way because it’s a perversion-”

“I distinctly remember saying no perversion,” I growled. Anger was easy.

“You meant moral perversion,” she replied simply. “This is a perversion of dragons. They’re meant to receive their magic slowly and when they hatch, they’re supposed to bind to the one that has been ‘feeding’ them magic. I merely overwhelmed it all at once and it hatched before it was ready.”

“Merely… that was-”

“Less damaging than what you did!” she barked suddenly. I blinked, surprise momentarily sweeping aside the anger. “You damaged yourself in more ways than you know.”

“What?” I croaked, throat sore.

“The runes… Rhaenyra, we are beings of fire. We became so when we first bound ourselves to our mounts. They are part of us and we are part of them. Just as we change them, they change us. No matter what our ancestry - any who tame a dragon is changed by it.” I waited, eyes wide and unsure what I was feeling. “But there is another force in this world. One opposite to that fire. That force of life and warmth.”

“Ice.” She glanced at me surprised. “A song of Ice and Fire. What the fuck?”

She gave me a helpless look before shrugging.

“Perhaps? I have never heard it phrased that way. They seek each other out. Life and death, warmth and cold, ice and fire - each in opposition. Simultaneously drawn to one another and the most potent forces in destroying one another.”

“You claim it is a cycle-”

“I don’t claim,” she interrupted, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Those books I wanted, so long ago. I stole them from my father. He hasn’t figured it out yet, I took copies and returned them but that is what they allege.”

“How does this relate to me?” I asked, morbid curiosity pushing me on. She smiled, pained before stepping closer. She’d wrapped linen cloth about her hand, I noted as she raised her uninjured hand to my cheek.

“You, a being of fire, laid your hands on what was essentially pure ice magic,” she said finally. “Syrax saved you - you were so close to a fate worse than death. You bear the scars still-”

“Scars?” I asked. “Where?”

“They aren’t visible unless you look for them. Do you know how much fear it fills me with? That every time I look I see proof that this nearly never was?” she asked. Her hand grew warm on my freezing cheek and reached up to grasp it with a shaking hand of my own. Even not wearing my prosthetic failed to bother me as much as it did as the stump touched her skin.

“This was not a good distraction,” I decided. Then, finally having enough of my antics, my stomach gave out and threw up down her front.


	176. New Life - Chapter 151

“What did you do this time?” Sab hissed, trying to keep her voice low enough that I did not hear it. I felt my eye twitch in response as Falena handed me the prosthetic. To say I had been mildly put out with Laena last night would be an understatement. I’d left her to her cleaning and gone to bed, a small headache growing into one of truly epic proportions by this morning.

She must have joined me at some point despite not waking me because when I finally awoke before sunrise, she was curled up next to me, violet eyes shining in the darkness. The dark circles around her eyes were even deeper than mine and it hadn’t taken long for Falena and Sab, my attendants for this morning, to pick up on my annoyance with her. 

I watched as Falena fixed Laena with a suspicious look, her lips thinning slightly in disapproval, but managed to keep her peace. I didn’t hear Laena’s mumbled response but I heard Sab’s hastily suppressed snort of amusement.

“Are you japing? She has barely looked at you all morning. What did you do?” Annoyed, I turned to direct my gaze at her and she flushed red. Laena didn’t look set to look up from her fruit tea and sausages.

“‘She’ can hear you. Gossip on your own time.” My tone was like ice and I knew, with a guilty lurch of my heart, I should not be taking it out on Sab. The woman had been nothing but a friend. I forced my tone to soften. “My apologies. My sleep was much disturbed last night.”

“It is no issue,” Sab replied, her frown at odds with her words. She glanced at Laena once more, my lover still studiously staring at her breakfast. I sighed and rubbed at the bridge of my nose.

“It was ill-done of me,” I replied. “Now! I do believe I have a nameday boy to attend to!”

Even Laena perked up at that, her head coming up to reveal how pale she was. The way her scars were red in contrast and how dark her almost sunken eyes looked... I winced. She looked ill.

“Laena,” I finally said, my concern warring with my need to sulk. “After we have given him his gifts, I think it would be best if you went back to bed. You need to be well for tomorrow.”

“I will be fine,” she insisted. “I just need some more food.”

Sab laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking torn. Even Falena, normally Laena’s biggest detractor in our little group, looked concerned. I eyed her rapidly cooling sausages, nearly untouched.

“Please, I wish to see the tourney… Luke- Luke is so excited.” Her tone of voice took me off guard.

“Rhaenyra,” said Sab, suddenly. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You will make sure she eats after Aemon has received his gifts,” I said finally. “And if she gets woozy today, you are to march her to her rooms.”

“As you command,” Sab almost laughed, looking marginally more relaxed. Falena gave me a helpless shrug as I turned back to her, allowing her to pull at the mantle I wore. I suspect it was more for a need of something to do than genuine worry it wasn’t sitting right on my shoulders. As if to prove she was trying, Laena plucked a sausage from her plate and nibbled at it.

“Good,” I said finally, as Falena stepped back again. “I do believe it’s time for presents.”

My wards and children were already gathered, Viserys too. He was seated in his oldest sister’s lap, tugging at one of the laces on her dress. I blinked when I saw her. Jocelyn was a tomboy through and through, much more than my old self. To see her dressed so… appropriately without the threat of force only sealed my certainty that she had something planned. She smiled sweetly at my narrowed eyes but I was prevented from broaching the matter by Aemon being pushed forward eagerly.

Laena passed me with a smile, joining Joffrey in his seat by the fire. No Rhaenys or Corlys yet, somewhat surprising…

“Nine years,” I told Aemon, smiling broadly. “My son is nine today.”

He blushed and I pulled him close, hoping he could feel my pride in him. As if I could somehow pour it into my embrace and into him through that. He clutched me back just as tightly.

“Wife, do you intend to release our son at any point?” asked Laenor after a moment. I cracked the back of my hand on his arm but let Aemon go. He was blushing slightly, his ears red, and I smiled fondly at him. Laenor lifted him from his feet and held him close a moment later, much to Aemon’s delighted shout of joy.

“Are we late?” Rhaenys asked, stepping through the door with a box in her hand. Corlys followed her, looking sheepish. Aemon got quite the haul from the ensuing gifts. It was something of a shock to realise Laenor and I’s gift was probably the least lavish of the lot. A high quality alchemy set with all the ingredients he’d need to make his own paints going forward. Corlys gifted him an old and beautiful tapestry Aemon had long coveted from his collection in High Tide. Joffrey and Laena went for books - what must have constituted a small library worth on art and architecture ranging from new manuscripts written by Jerrett’s people to copies of older works Laena had wheedled the Maester of Driftmark into acquiring.

Aliandra presented him with an ornate spear, Alysanne gifted him a book of old First Men fairy tales with suitably gory artwork. Jeyne’s gift nearly started a fight between the two. A beautiful carved weirwood shield that sent Alysanne into a fury upon seeing it. 

Thankfully, the last two remaining gifts were received without argument. Rolph gifted my son a set of cyvasse figurines in gold and silver, each ‘king’ having gems for their eyes, and Luke, under Joffrey’s strict supervision after the puppy incident, gifted my son a book on heraldry that Aemon thanked him earnestly for. 

As promised, Sab dragged Laena off soon after even as she promised her son she would be there to see him compete, passing by the nursemaid who arrived to whisk Viserys away. He was still too young for a tourney to be appropriate for him. He received his fair share of fuss before being relinquished though, and even Aliandra held him for a few moments, smiling down at him. 

Luke was technically a squire for his father although he learnt his skill at arms with Laenor and Rolph. Perhaps it was an oversight I should fix, yet Laena was loathe to see him leave her side and Joffrey was of the same mind. Perhaps Corlys might be an acceptable compromise?

“Alright then!” I called, interrupting Aemon’s excited reading of a particularly grim tale from Alysanne’s book. “We have a tourney to get to and two of you are competing today!”

They scrambled up, affectionate shoving of Luke and Rolph included. I doubted any would win. There were boys competing today half a decade their elder, but it was a start to their careers and I could feel their excitement. It filled the room.

“Mother, may I accompany Rolph to the tents?” asked Jocelyn, eyes bright. I stared at her hard, finally realising what she was up to, before giving her a strained smile. Little fiend. 

“Of course, just be back in the royal box before the melee starts.” The squire’s melee would be the first event, then the main melee followed by the jousting and finally a small archery tournament. I had a feeling Alysanne wanted in on that one. I did not mind, she was not barred from doing so. I would ensure she was told as such by Sera. 

I watched as Jocelyn disappeared through the doorway along with the small crowd of children, almost skipping as she pushed her way between Luke and Rolph. The two boys were trying their best not to run with excitement and the others were contenting themselves with excited chatter and a more sedate pace.

“What’s wrong?” asked Joffrey. I glanced around to find Laenor deep in conversation with his parents and only Joffrey stood close enough to hear my answer. “You have that look.”

“That look?” I asked, gesturing for us to begin our walk. I gave a wave to Laenor, who waved back, clearly distracted, and I did not fail to miss the fond smile on Joffrey’s face as we left him nodding seriously to whatever his father was telling him. Ser Steffon fell in behind us with a solemn and respectful nod.

I was startled to find that I had become somewhat fond of the knight a long time ago.

“The one that says something has dissatisfied you and you are debating the merits of introducing the problem to Syrax.” I chuckled and he relaxed slightly, having gotten the reaction he wanted.

“It’s Jocelyn,” I admitted as we followed the trail of startled maids that indicated we were not too far behind our children. “I believe our squire’s melee may be due a visit from a mystery contestant.”

“Ah,” he said sagely. “I see. I will have Ser Rogar informed that mystery contestants are banned... for the squire’s melee, at least, I fear the commons would riot if you banned mystery competitors from the main event.”

“Do,” I replied before letting out a deep breath.

“That is not all though.” It was a statement and not a question. Joffrey knew me well. “Laena has upset you in some manner.”

“She is being her usual self. Clever in some ways and infuriatingly dim in others.” The idea of some part of me bearing scars I had not known about… it sent a chill through me. So did the memory of the terrible noise the creature had made as it pulled its way from the egg. A perversion of dragons indeed.

“Do you wish for me to speak to her?” he asked, after watching me for a moment, expression unreadable.

“I will do it myself,” I decided. “I believe it is time she received a little more oversight in her experiments here.”

“Who would you have supervise her work?” he asked, tone dry. “None of us have the knowledge and there are few who would overlook the methods.”

“Find her some amenable and controllable Wisdoms,” I said, after thinking for some time on the matter. He was right, unfortunately. 

“I have many of those,” he said with a chuckle. “I spoke with the Farman boy, as you asked.”

It took me a moment to realise he had changed the subject. 

“Did he play nicely?” I asked and he snorted.

“He has agreed to provide information but he shies away from anything more serious. I am searching for another in the inner circle to consult.”

“Whatever you need, you have,” I promised as we left the castle proper and began making our way to the tourney grounds. I could see a small crowd in the distance that I recognised as the children. My smile widened a bit more when I realised they’d picked up Ser Erryk at some point and Rhaena was riding on his shoulders, shouting with glee. He was supposed to be off duty but I supposed he intended to enter the tourney himself.

“I am gratified to know my Princess has such faith in me,” said Joffrey, his tone teasing. I spared him a smile and a raised eyebrow. He chuckled. “Now, I believe I have a certain Princess’s plan to thwart.”

He left me to my own devices and I made my way to the Royal Box. It was a small riot of children when I arrived, Aliandra trying in vain to get them to calm despite clearly wanting to join in if the smile on her face was any indication. Even Aemon was in high spirits, laughing along at some joke Jeyne had told with a broad smile on his face. Judging by Aemma’s scandalised look, it had not been age appropriate. Alysanne and Alyssa huddled together, leaning over the railing and pointing to things in the crowd with excitement. Rhaena had all but climbed the edge of the box, imitating the two girls as she watched the festivities with wide eyes. 

I scooped her away before she could get herself hurt and seated her on my knee as I dropped into my overly large chair. She squirmed, giggled and made herself comfy. Jocelyn was still not present but then if I were right, I fully expected her to slink in moments before the melee started. No doubt she would be in a nasty mood at being foiled so.

“Look there is Ser Erryk!” exclaimed Rhaena from my knee and I forced myself, as difficult as it was, to focus on the present. Sunfyre, Laena and Jocelyn’s inevitable tantrum could wait. “And Rolph!”

“Rolph is in the Squire’s Tent,” said Laenor, making me jump a little. The moment he sat down, Aemma climbed into his lap and leaned back into him. I chuckled and turned my attention back to the mass of people still swarming about.

“I have dispatched Joffrey to put a stop to Jocelyn’s plan,” I murmured to him. He nodded, sighing. “She wished to enter in disguise.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” he admitted. “Otherwise she’d have escaped earlier.”

He leaned back, pausing only to tickle Aemma’s side when she started grumbling about something to Rhaena. Her screech of delight made me wince. Across the field, the announcer's voice could be heard and a horn blew, sending my wards and children scrambling into their seats. Aemma and Rhaena hopped down and rushed to their own as well, leaving me free to stand when the time came for me to stand and make my declarations. Joffrey seated himself a moment later with an annoyed grimace on his face.

“One mysterious contender who paid the entry fee without complaint,” he told me. “I told the fiend that if she could lift her helm and show me she was not Jocelyn, I would allow her to compete.”

“And?” I asked as even the crowd began to quiet.

“She did not. She said nothing the entire time I spoke. Then she left when I warned her you would be angry with her,” Joffrey told me, his eyes flicking over the crowd before returning to my face. I snorted.

“I will be anyway. Lines, I think. Grounding from the yard, too.” A cheer went up from the crowd as the announcer invited me to say a few words and I allowed my face to fall into a look of happiness and pride. It wasn’t hard to do so, all I had to do was gaze at the back of Aemon‘s head and forget what this day meant. Then I murmured to my husband and friend. “Wish me luck.”


	177. New Life - Chapter 152

“- and so, with great pride, I welcome you all!” As speeches went, it wasn’t great but the crowd hadn’t come to hear me speak and they cheered me regardless. I sat down and smiled benignly as the crowd kept up their cheering for a suitably polite time. Finally, the announcer stepped back in again, laying out the order of events and working the crowd into a frenzy of excitement once more.

More than a few times he mentioned placing bets. Maris’ doing most likely. She, above all others, knew how much money there was to be made in bets at events like these and her customers appreciated her honesty - if they won, they got their winnings and not a pair of broken legs. A clatter dragged me from that thought as Laena arrived, breathless, as if she had been sprinting.

“Oh, thank the Seven,” she breathed, dropping into her chair. “I didn’t miss anything?”

“No,” said Joffrey with a smile. “Although the squires will soon be putting in their appearance.”

“I gave Luke my scarf,” said Rhaena, proudly.

“I’m sure he will wear it proudly,” said Joffrey, ruffling her hair and making her squawk with indignation. Aemma soon set to fussing about her, pulling the hairstyle back into place.

“Sabitha is a monster,” groaned Laena. “I swear I can never eat another slice of bacon or bowl of porridge again.”

She did look better, I realised as I studied her. Although the colour in her cheeks may have been from all but sprinting here to see her son compete. She caught my suspicious eyes and gave me a strained smile, earning herself a small one in return. I might have said something but I was cut off by a squeal of excitement from the younger members of our family. Even Aliandra was leaning forward, dark eyes studying the squires entering the field with interest. My eyes picked out one of her friends from the ‘Dornish Court’, a lad of fifteen called Myles Ladybright. I was unsure whom he squired for exactly, but the few times I’d seen him fight he seemed relatively talented.

A cousin of Jeyne’s earned a cheer from her as he bowed low in an overly florid manner. My own children cheered for Rolph, Luke and Addam, waving as they picked out each figure in the mass of squires that had poured onto the pitch. Each wore a coloured band on their left arm, red or blue. Rhaena cheered only for her brother though, looking overly thrilled when she noted he had worn her scarf on his arm as favour, on his right arm, opposite his red band.

“He says when he is old enough to joust he will crown me Queen of Love and Beauty in every tournament,” Rhaena informed her mother. Joffrey rolled his eyes in response but couldn’t fight the grin on his face as Laena laughed happily.

“It’s a shame Jocelyn isn’t back yet,” said Alys, in a tone I knew was supposed to be innocent. I raised an eyebrow at her even as Aemon elbowed her in the ribs. “I’m just saying she hasn’t even given Rolph her favour… as she promised him she would do!”

I peered at Rolph, armoured up with even his visor pulled down, only recognisable by his surcoat, and realised my daughter was right. He did not wear Jocelyn’s favour, he wore no favour at all. That, in itself, was not unusual. There were only a handful of squires that did so, after all, but I had been so sure he would ask for it… Humph, perhaps the little fiend had been in an even darker mood than I had predicted at being foiled so. After the melee was over, I’d have a guard sent to locate her and drag her to her room. She could wait there for me to come and dish out her punishment. 

‘I won’t be anywhere I’m not supposed to be’ indeed. Without thinking, I tapped out an annoyed beat on my chair arm. Not that anyone else noticed my agitation, they were watching as the squires were split into two teams. I would admit to it taking me slightly by surprise. I had been in such a state about Sunfyre, I had done little to review today’s agenda beyond a cursory glance… I glanced at Laenor, who was beaming as the squires took their positions.

“You must tell me how our boys are doing,” I said, making his eyebrows rise in amusement.

“It’s hardly going to be top tier military strategy,” said Joffrey. “I expect a great deal of reckless charging.”

A horn sounded as I went to question him on that and, as he predicted, most of the squires immediately charged each other as if it were some grand battle of legend. More than a few were calling out their family words or simply just screaming incoherently. I forced myself to cover my amusement with a cough. 

Melees were not my favourite part of the tourney, I much preferred jousting and it was hard to hold onto that amusement at their youthful enthusiasm as the first contestants started going down. It did not escape my eyes that it was mostly the younger and smaller ones going down first. The older squires, the ones with any shred of decency anyway, were hanging back and testing those of their own age. I winced as a squire much too tall slammed a mace into the ribs of a boy nearly two-thirds his height, sending him crashing to the ground.

I could not hold brutality in a melee against a knight or squire but by the Seven, a few of these would never find themselves service with me. Which was not to say the older boys were dominating. The idea of teams was finally getting through to them, with several younger boys grouping together to stay in the fight. I almost laughed a few moments later when a small figure darted out of a pack of blue squires in recognisable burgundy and black and scored a few painful hits on one of the more brutal boys. The pack followed suit a moment later and the boy was downed.

I cheered a little for him. Addam was good. I had high hopes. Ser Rogar had high hopes. When he was knighted, and it would not be for a long time yet, Addam would have his choice of roles that I could offer him. Moments later, the blue squires moved on and linked up with a small group following Rolph. It was somewhat shocking to realise, as the many disparate groups coalesced into two once more, that I had been watching for nearly ten minutes.

There was a pause, considered good manners, as officials hauled as many squires as they could possibly get off the field away for a quick check over. Gerardys’ students had been press-ganged for the occasion. A good source of practical experience, according to my old Maester.

“It seems our son is holding on,” observed Joffrey. Luke was indeed still standing, flanking the Ladybright boy in the much smaller group of red.

“It seems his group lacks the numbers to prevail,” I japed and Joffrey shook his head.

“They could still come through,” he told me, beaming in pride. “They may not have the numbers but their more skilled members are still standing.”

“What do you think, husband?” I asked. Laenor’s eyes were fixed on the field though, confusion furrowing his brow. “Laenor?”

“Huh?” Even Joffrey was frowning as his attention finally fixed on us.

“What is wrong?” I asked. He glanced back to the field and then seemed to shake himself.

“Nothing, nothing at all. I merely spotted something odd, that is all.” I glanced back at Joffrey, who looked as puzzled as I felt. Even Laena looked mystified by her brother’s odd behaviour. 

“Odd?” I asked, peering over the grounds as the squires prepared for round two.

“Odd,” he confirmed. “I’m not sure-”

He stopped speaking as the squires charged again, cheering loudly although showing a little more strategy. I spared him one more look, which he waved away distractedly and went back to watching the show. My wards and children cheered wildly. Most of my children had dropped any pretenses of remaining objective and had begun cheering for the blue team, calling Rolph and Addam’s names like they were the finest knights in all the realm and this the biggest tourney of the season. Rhaena and Laena cheered for the reds and Luke though, even as the melee began turning against them and they were slowly forced back as more and more of their members fell or yielded. To be fair to Joffrey, he was cheering too, yet I sensed Laenor’s odd behaviour had troubled him. His gaze kept flicking back to his lover as if he could somehow divine the cause by sight alone.

“Oh dear,” Joffrey finally said. “Allow me to revise my earlier suggestion.”

“Reds are going to lose?” I asked and he nodded grimly. Surprisingly, Luke hadn’t gone down yet. It was certainly impressive for someone who barely made the age restriction to fight in the tourney. I watched as he put a blue squire in the dirt and then turned towards Rolph with what I suspected was glee given his movements. He didn’t get two steps, though, before Addam swooped out of nowhere and engaged him, pushing him back. Luke seemed almost surprised by the aggression but was soon giving as good as he got, punishing his bastard uncle for every mistake. Addam was good, but even I saw the moment he overextended. Luke showed no mercy and began his trek towards Rolph again, seemingly more determined this time.

“Oh no,” said Joffrey, causing my head to whip towards him and the smile on my face to die a little. I had been enjoying the melee, despite my earlier worries, yet the look on Joffrey’s face. He looked… angry was perhaps the wrong word but it was the closest I could think of. “That girl played me for a fool!”

My smile died.

“Laenor-”

“I know,” said my husband stiffly, divining Joffrey’s sentence before it was completed, and I turned to him as well, feeling my heart beating out of my chest but not quite understanding their meaning.

“Jocelyn?” I finally asked and Laenor nodded. His lips were pressed together so tightly they were nearly invisible and his hands were clutching at his chair arms. Understanding trickled through me, feeling like something ice cold until it reached my stomach and became burning hot anger. “Where?”

“She and Rolph switched,” hissed Joffrey. “Rolph isn’t that sloppy! Look at those strikes! If Luke wasn’t so exhausted, he’d have put her in the dirt by now.”

I couldn’t answer that. I was ready to leap to my feet, to demand the tournament be halted so my daughter could learn the meaning of pain when Laenor rested his hand on mine

“Do you trust me?” he asked, turning to face me. Around us, the Royal box was beginning to notice our anger, despite Laena’s confused efforts to redirect their attention back to the squires.

“With what?” I snapped. He nodded out across the field, where Luke and Jocelyn were still locked in combat.

“With her punishment. You promised her lines and grounding. I have a better idea.” I stared at him, anger making me want to snap no until I realised he was just as angry as I was. It made me hesitate just slightly. Laenor, as a rule, did not get angry at the children often.

“Very well,” I finally managed. “I will defer to your judgement in this matter.”

He nodded and turned his eyes back to the melee where Jocelyn, disguised as Rolph, had been pushed back from Luke as the final blue charge saw most of the reds yield. Joffrey merely sighed heavily and gestured to Ser Steffon. My knight approached with a puzzled look on his face. He must have picked up on our anger but without being privy to the conversation he would have no clue why.

“Go to the squire’s tent and apprehend Jocelyn, Luke and Addam please,” I commanded, voice shaking a little with the urge to shout and rage. “And have a guard track wherever Rolph has hidden himself. I want them delivered to my rooms as soon as possible.”

“Your Grace,” acknowledged Steffon, his eyebrows climbing high in surprise as he glanced at the grounds where the remaining blue squires were jumping up and down in glee at their victory, ‘Rolph’ among them. A good few older squires could expect to be knighted after this victory. Yet their happiness did nothing to ease the heat of anger settling in my body.

“Jocelyn competed?” said Aemon, quietly. “Truly?”

“Indeed. Aemon, stay here and enjoy the knight’s melee. I need to have words with your sister.” I rose and Laenor rose with me. When Joffrey went to rise as well, I laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Stay with them?”

He nodded, turning his attention to his wife and daughter soon after, as Rhaena complained loudly that Luke’s side had not won, commiserating with her. We’d barely left the tourney grounds for the castle proper when Ser Steffon found us once more and reported all four had been successfully captured. He fell in behind us after that, face a mask of disapproval.

“Whatever your punishment is, it better be good,” murmured Steffon.


	178. New Life - Chapter 153

“How could you be so foolish!?” bellowed Laenor. Addam flinched in the face of his anger and then stared at his feet. Jocelyn’s glare fell away, her gaze swinging from me to her father, her eyes wide in surprise. Luke was squirming on the spot, shifting from left to right and looking everywhere but at Laenor and I. Rolph was already on the verge of tears, only taking his eyes off of Laenor to shoot little glances at Jocelyn. “You put yourself at risk! You put your team at risk! Do you understand what could have happened had you been killed or crippled!?”

“Father-” started Jocelyn.

“No,” he growled, cutting her off. “This goes beyond your usual stunts.”

Her pleading look became a sullen glare, her arms crossed across her chest and her eyebrows practically meeting to form a V of anger. I wanted to take her to task myself but I had promised Laenor this was his to handle. Instead, I took a deep breath, momentarily catching the foursome’s attention before Laenor began pacing and they all looked to him again.

“What possessed you to join the melee?” he asked. “How could you be so stupid!?”

“Stupid!?” she exclaimed. “Even if I’d asked you’d have said no!”

“For good reason!” he shouted back. “Because you are one and ten! Because you have no formal training-”

“Only because you wouldn’t let me!” she argued. “I've wanted to train since before Aemon even picked up a practice blade!”

“And you were allowed,” I cut in, angry that she would throw this of all things in my face. The way she was standing, the way those angry and accusing eyes swung towards me… this was not new for her. Why had she not come to me about it?

“Not properly,” she grumbled, making my anger burn a little brighter in me. “You only said I could have a proper tutor recently! It was always Rolph you were training! Not me!”

Laenor stood there for a moment and then raised his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. 

“It does not matter what has happened in the past. Even if you were the best squire of the Red Keep you would have still broken the minimum age rule-”

“That’s stupid as well!” Jocelyn protested and I clenched my fists tight despite the pain it brought. “No other tourneys have that rule!”

“But ours does,” said Laenor. “You will be punished for this. You will all be punished for this.”

“Wait!” said Luke, eyes wide and suddenly far more concerned than he had been before. “I didn’t know! Jocelyn, tell him!”

“You did not realise it was not Rolph wearing his armour?” I asked. “Truly? Would you swear such a thing?”

He met my gaze with an unwavering look of his own.

“I swear I did not know Jocelyn had switched places with Rolph.” It took me a few moments to realise he was lying. He seemed earnest, there were none of the usual hints of the mistakes children usually made when lying. No smirk or chuckle. No false sweetness. There was also no fear anymore. None of the concern that had dominated his features earlier. I turned from him to Addam.

“And you?” I asked. His head jerked up when Luke nudged him. 

“A squire hit her,” he told me, sounding miserable. “I heard her curse.”

“I see.” Unlike Luke, I did not think Addam was lying. “We shall discuss your punishment first then.”

“No!” Jocelyn burst out, her tone full of panic, even as Addam turned white with fear. “You can’t! He didn’t know! He really didn’t know! Only Rolph knew, I swear mama, don’t punish Addam! He protected me!”

Either a very convincing act or… no. No, the panic in my daughter’s eyes was real. You can not fake desperation like that. Not really. 

“Very well. I believe that Addam did not know until it was too late.” His sigh of relief was audible. “Addam, seek out Ser Rogar and inform him of what has happened. Tell him I assign no blame to you.”

Addam bowed low, looking ready to weep with relief. Luke was frowning angrily at me and he looked so much like Daemon in that moment-

“Next time you realise something is amiss,” said Laenor, cutting off that particular panic as Addam bolted for the door, “tell an adult as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Ser Laenor, thank you, Ser Laenor. Thank you, Your Grace.” He disappeared soon after, nearly tripping over his own feet and still looking to be on the verge of tears. I would have Jocelyn write him an apology letter… and I should inform his mother of what had occurred. Marilda would know how to reassure him, this incident would have shaken his confidence.

“You should all thank Rhaenyra.” Three heads whipped back towards my husband. “I would not have believed him. I would have stripped him of his place as Ser Rogar’s squire and sent him back to his mother.”

Jocelyn glared at him, a little bit of hate in her gaze. Yet for Rolph and Luke, it seemed to be finally sinking in how much trouble they were in.

“Luke, I do not believe you didn’t know,” he continued. “I believe they did not tell you but you are no fool. You knew.”

He opened his mouth to protest, his body language screaming righteous offence at being questioned so. Annoyed and feeling my earlier headache returning with a vengeance, I decided to head it off at the pass.

“Admit so now and it will speak well of you. Your punishment will be tempered slightly.” His mouth snapped shut as he thought that over for a moment.

“I- I realised. Just before we were due to go out,” he said finally. “I am sorry, Auntie Rhaenyra. I should have told someone before the melee began.”

“Very well,” was my answer to that. I glanced towards Laenor and he nodded. “Thank you for telling the truth.”

“Luke,” He straightened as Laenor said his name. “A thousand lines of ‘I will think through the consequences of my actions’ and a hundred of ‘I will tell the truth’. There is no time limit to complete them but you will be banned from the yard until they are done.”

Luke swallowed at the pronouncement before nodding grimly.

“Furthermore, I will be telling your father and mother everything that has happened here. You will accept whatever punishment they give you in addition without complaint.”

“Yes, uncle Laenor,” he said, looking frustrated and… maybe a hint of shame was there. Or was I imagining it? Laenor nodded and then gestured to the door. Luke bolted, much in the same way Addam had done. Rolph was next to the block and he knew it too.

“I am disappointed in you, Rolph,” said Laenor, his voice solemn and grave. “I have taught you to be better than this.”

Rolph couldn’t quite meet his mentor’s eyes and he whispered his apologies. I saw Jocelyn crack a little as she gazed at him, her angry facade falling for a moment to reveal guilt, worry and grief. She would see her partners in crime punished first, a lesson to ram home how her every action reflected on those around her. I could have kissed Laenor in that moment. He had always been content to leave punishment to me in the past, merely backing me up when the children confronted him about it. Of course he occasionally had his concerns, but he was fine with being the fun parent…

“I will be speaking with your father regarding your behaviour. You are, as of this moment, on probation. Another toe out of line and you will no longer be my squire. Do you understand?” Rolph screwed his eyes shut and nodded, his throat bobbing with the force of keeping his grief in check. In the corner of my eye, Jocelyn’s lip wobbled a little. “And you will be on punishment duty for a month as well as undergoing the punishment given to Luke.”

“I’m sorry, Ser Laenor,” he managed to say, his voice cracking at the end. He looked so miserable in that moment that I forgot, just for an instant, that I was furious with him. Yet, as odd as it sounded, I don’t think it was the heaps of mind numbingly boring chores he would be saddled with as part of his punishment duty, like the ones Alyssa was still working through now, or even the lines and ban from the yard that was truly hurting him.

It was the fact Laenor was disappointed in him. He was proud to be Laenor’s squire. 

“Do not tell me,” said Laenor. “Show me with your actions. Now go. You are still expected at the feast tonight. Do not go back to the tourney grounds, however. Go straight to your rooms and stay there until you are collected.”

The boy nodded and all but sprinted out, leaving us alone with our daughter. In the silence, she couldn’t meet our eyes. All her earlier defiance was gone as she stared at the floor, clutching and rubbing at her upper arm.

“I thought that you had improved,” I said finally, anger making it hard not to yell. But yelling wouldn’t be productive, not with Jocelyn. She’d yell back and then we’d both be at it and the point of Laenor’s lesson here would be lost in our mutual anger. “That you had matured.”

“I did,” she whispered. “I wanted to show you-”

“You have shown us that your judgement is not what we thought it was,” Laenor told her sternly. Her fists clenched at her sides and she turned her face away from us. I waited in the silence for her to respond to that. I had expected anger… I had not been expecting her shoulders to slump in defeat.

“Yes, papa,” she whispered finally. He frowned but refrained from reaching out and comforting her as I would have expected from him. He had always yielded to their sadness before, and his disappointment in them was more painful to them than his anger, I suspected. 

Silence fell again as she stared at her boots and Laenor and I stared at her. When she stayed like that, Laenor sighed once more, sounding weary. I watched as the anger left him marginally and he gathered himself to deliver her punishment in the face of her downcast expression.

“You wish to be a squire. To receive training as a squire would,” he began and her head jerked up, head tilted in confusion. “Do you remember Alyssa’s punishment? The punishment she is still enduring?”

“She has to study with aunt Laena,” said Jocelyn, frowning now. “And she thinks aunt Laena hates her…”

“Indeed,” said Laenor. “She may have stopped complaining to your mother by now but she is reminded of her foolishness every time she checks her saddle pre-flight and every time she has to go through Laena for permission to fly.”

Jocelyn still looked confused even as an inkling of what Laenor might have planned began to manifest in my head. There were many, Aemond included, who had seen Alys’ punishment as a reward, underestimating how much Alys loathed her lessons and how hard Laena was inclined to work her.

And yet nobody could deny she was a better rider for them.

“Ser Steffon, I hear you are short a squire at the moment?” Behind us, Steffon straightened in response. Laenor’s tone had changed drastically. He was making an attempt to hide his anger now, to seem more thoughtful… I wasn’t sure if Jocelyn or Steffon had realised though.

“Yes, I am. I knighted my previous one not two months past,” he stated, voice devoid of emotion in his usual manner. Yet there was a cautious slant to his stance, a slight lean forward, that said he might have picked up on what Laenor had planned just as I had done.

“It was the Hogg boy, wasn’t it?” murmured Laenor, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “I recall he was an excellent fighter by the end of it, but came to you having been served badly by his previous master.”

Jocelyn’s head seemed to be on a swivel between the three of us now, caution and hope fighting it out over her features. Some of my anger drained at the almost confirmation of Laenor’s plan. Steffon nodded.

“I see. Then I have no doubt you could enforce some sort of… crash course as my wife so elegantly puts it?” Steffon’s grin became savage and Jocelyn began to look a tad more worried. “Up before dawn, training, lessons, chores and then bed, that sort of thing?”

“I’d be honoured to, Ser Laenor,” said Steffon, sounding pleased. “For how long?”

He scratched his chin again, feigning obliviousness to our daughter’s increasing concern.

“How long, wife?” he asked finally, tone darkening again. “I defer to you on the length of punishment.”

“Six months,” I said without hesitation. “That should give her time to think through the consequences of her actions and give her a thorough grounding in the duties of a squire.”

“Six months!?” she burst out, looking outraged. “It was one tourney! A squire's one! It wasn’t like I played Jonquil Darke!”

“Need I remind you how your uncle Joffrey was maimed?” Laenor’s tone was ice and suddenly, his rage made sense. Jocelyn froze in response to his tone. “You have come too close to doing yourself permanent harm these past few months, several times already. It is time you learned responsibility.” 

I reached out and placed my hand on his arm and he raised his hand to mine, almost without thought. Jocelyn just stared, looking as if Laenor had physically struck her before the tears began falling and she seemed to curl in on herself.

“I am sorry,” she said finally, still crying. “I am! I never meant to hurt Addam or Luke or Rolph! I never meant to get hurt myself!”

“Intentions are not everything,” I told her before turning to Steffon, who had been watching the exchange in silence. “We shall send her to you tomorrow, I think. Before the sun rises?”

“In padding, Your Grace,” he said, nodding. “I intend to find out just what our princess can do!”


	179. New Life - Chapter 154

Jocelyn spent her last night of freedom alternating between worrying at her food, barely eating anything and throwing scowls and dark looks at anyone that brought up her little misadventure that day. I might have banned all three of them from the feast as punishment but it wasn’t my call and Aemon had wanted them there, despite their best attempts to ruin his nameday. Still, we all got through the feast without any real incident and Aemon seemed to have enjoyed it regardless of the pressure he had to be feeling. I’d bent on my normal rules and allowed him a glass of watered down wine at his request. Given his face immediately screwed up I could only assume he hadn’t inherited my slight disposition to be something of a wine snob. I half suspected it was Alys that had put him up to it as she almost immediately claimed the glass from him with a cheeky smile in my direction before scampering off to resume cheering Jocelyn up.

Honestly, of all the ridiculous-

“Calm down,” murmured Laena, still looking half asleep as she pulled her boots on. I myself was half way through pulling on one of my more austere dresses. “Aemon will be fine.”

A flush of guilt made me fumble a knot and had me huffing in annoyance at myself. Today was the day my son climbed the Dragonmont to claim a dragon and all I could do was sit here raging over the latest stunt my eldest had pulled. I glanced across in time to see Laena yawn again, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. She was dressed in her travel clothes, her hair tied back in a severe braid and a knife tucked into her belt.

She was climbing the Dragonmont with my son for me. I took a deep breath and tried to push down the mix of emotions swirling within me.

“You look like a bandit,” I told her, trying for a teasing tone. I didn’t quite manage it but she graciously overlooked it as she turned to give me a grin.

“Is that so?” she asked, standing up and coming around to my side of the bed. “Perhaps I shall steal myself a kiss or two.”

I let her, only feigning spluttered indignation. She laughed at my terrible acting before busying herself with arranging my dress around me so I did not look like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

“Villain,” I murmured as she continued to chuckle away to herself. 

“Come,” she said finally, wiping at her eyes. “Else poor Aemon will think I’ve abandoned him to the tender mercies of Laenor.”

“Oh, do I dare ruin his happiness?” That got me smack in the arm as we made our way out of the room. Ser Erryk was on duty today, as Steffon had the day off to break in his new ‘squire’. He greeted us both with a friendly smile before dropping in behind us. We walked in silence for a while, my stomach feeling as if it were doing backflips.

It would be okay, I told myself. Laena was the expert on dragons these days and many Targaryens had claimed their dragons at an earlier age than Aemon. I tapped out a nervous beat on my thigh, it was testament to my fretting that I had forgotten my gloves and the prosthetic and I found myself unwilling to go back and fetch them.

“When are you sending Princess Jocelyn off to Steffon’s tender mercies?” asked Erryk, interrupting my ongoing panic. Judging from the look Laena sent him, she was glad he had. Was it that obvious? Or was I just that predictable?

“After we have seen Aemon and Laena off,” I decided. “She was sent to her rooms early last night. She has only herself to blame if she did not take that opportunity to sleep.”

“I still feel a bit sorry for her,” he said with a rueful grin. “Steffon can be a monster when it comes to training.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said with a smile. Steffon should have been Lord Commander, I could admit that. He had missed out on the basis of being Jaehaerys’ last appointment and on that basis alone. Viserys had wanted to be sure the Lord Commander was his and Steffon had taken his oaths when Otto Hightower all but ruled the roost in King’s Landing. If it weren’t for canon, I’m not sure how much I’d have trusted him on that fact either. “I take it you approve of her punishment?”

“It’s certainly inventive,” Erryk said. “I was surprised Ser Laenor handed it out mostly. Still, I’m with Steffon on this. No point guarding her day and night only to lose her in a tourney accident.”

“Laenor was recalling what happened to Ser Joffrey.” A dark look flashed over Erryk’s face then.

“Cole,” he all but spat. “We all remember that one well. He ought to have taken the Black there and then if he was so intent on spitting on his oaths.”

“Luke was quite incensed Joff would not take his side,” said Laena, making me jump. “At least until Joff described to him in quite a bit of detail what exactly happened to his leg.”

“Hopefully not why,” I mused and she laughed.

“Oh, they’ve all heard those rumours.” That made me blink in surprise.

“From who?” I asked sharply. In the corner of my eye, Ser Erryk was also directing a curious look at Laena. She shook her head, amused.

“Alicent keeps them alive although these days it smacks of desperation. I’m sure Joffrey has told you this,” she told me, tilting her head in confusion. She was right, he had, but the idea of that somehow reaching my children… I was prevented from further questioning her on it by us finally reaching the courtyard where my husband and son awaited us. Upon seeing us, Aemon gave me a shaky smile and all but flew into my arms. I held him close, feeling him shake with nerves.

“You’ll be fine,” I assured him, feeling that same fear. He drew back, face pale. I would bet money that if he hadn’t thrown up already, he would soon enough. I searched desperately for something to lighten the mood, something to help him… it hurt to see him so scared.

“I have aunt Laena,” he said, more to himself. I rested my hands on his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“She’ll keep you safe,” I assured him, before shooting her glance. “Just make sure no one arrests her for looking so suspicious.”

“That was one time!” she protested, tone mild. “And Harwin got it all cleared up straight away.”

Aemon giggled, despite how bad the joke was and some of the tension in his shoulders left him. I pulled him close again, stroking the back of his head.

“My boy, I’m so proud of you,” I whispered. Laenor moved close, resting a hand on both our shoulders. He looked as if he had not had much sleep either, his face pale behind his beard. He hadn’t had it clipped recently and it was starting to get out of control. Aemon peered up at his father before wrapping his arms around Laenor’s waist too.

“I’ll come back with a dragon,” he said, sounding muffled as he buried his head into Laenor’s doublet.

“Of that your mother and I have no doubts,” said Laenor warmly. Aemon let go of us then took a few steps backwards before turning and finding Laena waiting for him patiently.

“Ready to go?” she asked and he nodded, his fists clenched tight. She reached out and he unwound enough to take her hand. The two set off at a brisk pace, leaving the three of us behind to watch them go. 

“He’ll be fine,” I said, more to myself as Laenor allowed me to slip close to him. 

“He will. He’s our son.” I was quite glad when he half turned to let me get closer, wrapping his arms around me. We stayed like that for a while longer before Erryk coughed politely.

“Your Grace, the sun shall soon be rising,” he reminded me.

“And we have a daughter to send to Steffon,” I finished stepping back from Laenor’s chest. “Coming, dear husband?”

Laenor’s sigh of response was weary and he reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose before he responded.

“I ought to,” he said finally. “It’s my punishment.”

I didn’t have an answer to that as we started walking. Laenor was the cool dad. The one that took them on dragon rides and snuck them sweetmeats when I wasn’t looking. At functions, he was the one that pulled faces to entertain them or mocked Lords to get them to laugh. Well, he could enjoy Jocelyn being furious at him for once. He was quiet as we made our way to Jocelyn’s room.

There was no sound or movement when we reached our goal and I grimaced. Someone being more careful after being punished might have arranged for a maid to wake them but I suppose it had not occurred to Jocelyn. I knocked on the door, gently at first and then louder. No answer. With a sigh, I pushed the door open, letting the torchlight from the corridor spill into her room. 

It was messy in a way I suspected would drive the maids mad when they finally got in here to clean it. Her dress from last night’s feast had been thrown into the corner, what looked like her homework that her tutor had set to be completed by the time they got back to King’s Landing was strewn about the floor by the small desk. I risked a glance back at Laenor and found him looking almost disappointed. Jocelyn was still in bed and still sound asleep it would seem. 

I gave him a nod and moved across to the fireplace, soon getting a small blaze going. It was a simple matter then to find a taper and set about lighting a few other candles so that her room was relatively well lit. Laenor did not move during all of it, instead leaning into the door frame and continuing to look vaguely disappointed. Neither did Jocelyn stir, but then she’d always been a heavy sleeper if the maids reported correctly. Terrible for actually going to sleep but a heavy sleeper once she was. Once I had finished, Laenor stepped in, gesturing for me to wake her as he busied himself with an overly large trunk.

“Jocelyn,” I murmured, making my over. When that failed to wake her, I tried again a little louder. “Jocelyn!”

That worked somewhat. I watched as she frowned before her eyes opened, sleepily trying to comprehend why I was in her room. Then memory must have hit her because they widened to a comical degree and she sat bolt upright, peering at her window. Not that she could see anything through it, given the curtains were closed. I gave her a raised eyebrow as she groaned and rubbed at her face.

“You will not be late if you get dressed now,” I told her. 

“Yes, mama,” she sighed, still looking half-asleep as she swung her legs around. She was too tired to be angry right now, I realised as she staggered upright looking like some kind of zombie. She stood still for a moment, seemingly getting her bearings before she rubbed at her eyes again and peered at me. “Mama? Why are you waking me?”

“Why are we waking you?” asked Laenor, reappearing at my side with a pile of clothing in his arms. “I would have thought you would have arranged for a maid to wake you.”

“But you normally do that,” she protested. I reached out and pried her hands away from her eyes before she inevitably did herself an injury.

“And now it is up to you to ensure you are awake and on time,” said Laenor, handing her the bundle. “Ser Steffon will forgive you for today but ensure this does not happen again.”

Despite her evident exhaustion, the look she gave him was borderline mutinous. He met it with a calm one of his own, staring her down until she looked away finally. He nodded once as she swallowed.

“I will leave you with your mother to get dressed. I’ll be outside though, ready to escort you to Steffon,” he told her, turning on his heel and sweeping out. I watched as my firstborn picked through the bundle of clothing listlessly.

“He didn’t have to be that mean to the others,” she finally said. “Addam won’t even talk to me and Luke… Luke said I was brainless!”

“You are a princess,” I told her, keeping my tone gentle even though I wanted to snap. “Everything you do reflects on others.”

“Would he really have done that to Addam?” she asked as she began to dress. “He… Addam is so scared…”

“Ser Rogar is my knight,” I said. “Not your papa’s. I know Addam did not know and thus he will keep his squireship. Had he known… I can not say. Your papa is fond of his brothers but not so fond he would allow one to put you in danger.”

“Brothers,” she said quietly. “Is… everyone says they’re his. Everyone. Even Grandpapa Viserys. They say that Grandmama Rhaenys would have strangled Grandpapa Corlys if they were really his. They said that you… even you acted like they were his. They said that you were angry at papa when everyone first found out and Grandmama Rhaenys didn’t care.”

Well, I could hardly fault the Court from picking up on exactly what I’d wanted them to think at the time. I bit my lip and drew her close.

“Addam and Alyn are Corlys’,” I told her seriously. “It’s a complicated story as to why people thought they were your papa’s and it would take too long to explain now.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she stepped back, hastily pulling a shirt over her head. I stood there dumbfounded as she sniffled and tried her best not to let the tears fall. She did a horrible job though and I was left feeling like I’d somehow messed up.

“What is wrong?” I asked finally, after my mind brought nothing up. 

“They aren’t my brothers!” she said angrily. “They’re my uncles.”

My mouth hung open as she wiped furiously at her eyes again, her small body trembling with the force of emotion she was feeling. Then the guilt hit me, welling up from my gut to send me cold with the realisation that what I had found a very funny joke a decade ago had just come back to kick me fairly squarely in the gut. She had spent so long believing they were her brothers… and I had just taken them away. I swallowed thickly but was prevented from opening my big stupid mouth any further by Laenor’s head appearing at the door.

“Are you ready?” he asked sharply before frowning at the tears. His eyes travelled to me for a moment before he seemed to shrug it off. “It is nearly sunrise.”

“I’m coming papa,” she replied, shooting me one last mournful look. I didn’t even get a goodbye. She left, leaving me alone in her trashed room feeling like mold.


	180. New Life - Chapter 155

I trailed into Viserys’ nursery as day broke, passing the wet nurse on her way out after feeding him. He was awake, gurgling and cooing away happily as the sun began lighting the room in gold. His egg was securely next to him and when he saw me, his face lit up into a smile that made my heart hurt. I scooped him up and settled down in a richly upholstered chair, letting his fingers spider-walk across my cheeks as I bent low to kiss his forehead.

“At least I haven’t managed to mess up with you yet,” I told him, sitting back up and watching him shake his little fists at me. It was only then I noticed I still wasn’t wearing my glove or prosthetic and something in me was revolted at having my maimed hand so close to him. He went still as if he could sense my complete disgust before smiling again, staring up at me with obvious fascination in his mismatched eyes. I poked him on the nose and earned myself a few full body wiggles that had me chuckling as his tiny fist chased my finger and he struggled to bring his eyes to focus on it.

Heir to Driftmark. Future Lord of the Tides. I poked him on the nose again and this time he attempted to open his mouth wide enough that he could gum at my finger. I sat with him as the sounds of Dragonstone awakening and getting to work sprang up around me. After a while, he grew sleepy in my arms, tiring of chasing my hand and tired of my constant baby talk and I cradled him as he snoozed away, his little snores making me want to giggle in delight every time they rose in volume.

“Rhaenyra,” called Joffrey softly, almost frightening the life from me. I looked up from my sleeping son to find him in the doorway, smiling gently in a way most rarely saw from him. He stepped in, coming to my side to peer at Viserys. “Have you been here all morning?”

“Since sending Jocelyn off with Laenor,” I replied before being ambushed by a yawn. In my arms, Viserys awoke and beamed up at me with evident delight, evoking a smile from both of us in turn.

“You sound upset,” said Joffrey finally. I swallowed as her tear stained face intruded on my memory again and stood.

“No more than usual after I’ve messed something up with my children,” I replied, placing him in his cradle.

“Dare I ask?” I shot him a look as I arranged the blankets around Viserys, scooping his egg a little closer. He was already looking sleepy again despite his fussing with his blankets. He could sleep a little more. It would not be long before the wet nurse arrived to feed him once more. “Ah, that bad.”

“That bad,” I agreed, straightening up and directing one last smile at Viserys before turning to Joffrey. “Jocelyn finally believes me on the matter of the Hull boys.”

“I see,” he said and I realised he had done as I had and overlooked the gut punch it was to believe someone was your sibling only to find out they were not. Annoyed with myself and annoyed with Joffrey I swept out, checking my pace so that he could at least keep up with me. “I trust that news is not as good as you thought it would be?”

“It is not, no,” I told him, voice terse.

“I have some meetings arranged for you,” he stated, evidently deciding to avoid the topic so fresh in my mind.

“With whom? And why? I want to be sure I’m free for when Aemon arrives-” He cut me off.

“And you will fret half the day away until then,” he pointed out. 

“So you have arranged a distraction,” I drawled, a mix of relief and anxiety hitting my gut again. Joffrey merely hummed in response and I sighed. He did not deserve my annoyance for the predicament with Jocelyn. It was entirely my fault. I had come up with the idea to imply the boys were Laenor’s, I had laid the groundwork for the rumours to be so believable and I had neglected to address the matter before now because I’d found it funny. “I will need to change first. Send Falena to me?”

“I believe she already awaits you in your rooms,” he told me. “I’ve summoned Master Hartios to Dragonstone for an interview and-”

“Oh? Are we finally sending him to Lyman?” I asked. I would admit to not paying too much attention to his progress under Corlys. The idea to have him become our financial wizard had been Joffrey’s. Laenor may have made a few excellent investments in the Vale but he would be the first to admit that a great amount of his success was due to luck. He could balance a budget, but the financial skills needed to truly make Westeros a mercantile empire were not something he possessed.

“I believe the heat in Braavos has died down enough that we can risk exposing him,” said Joffrey. “The Sealord has been distracted by other matters of late.”

“Like what?” I asked, not missing the dark look on Joffrey’s face. He raised an eyebrow and I got it a moment later. “Daemon.”

“Just so,” replied Joffrey. “I have yet to discern what he knows or his plans regarding the matter.”

“How many Braavosi were affected by his little tantrum on Driftmark?” I asked. Joffrey tilted his head thoughtfully.

“I’d have to check. Certainly not a great amount I would imagine.” I huffed in annoyance. Braavos and its new Sealord had been unbearably hostile since his election. The official party line over there was that we had overstepped greatly when it came to Dorne and that unofficially, any attempt to further expand would be met by Braavosi hostility. Likely it would take the form of sabotage, favourable loans to our enemies and a suspicious amount of Braavosi pirates hitting our trading routes. An easy way to bond with the city over a common enemy would have been a boon.

“And Lord Redfort has also asked to see you,” said Joffrey as I reached my rooms. My eyebrows climbed high on my face in surprise.

“I had not thought he would be sent so soon?” I finally said. “Our progress is not due to begin for a few months yet-”

“Jeyne was eager to be rid of him,” drawled Joffrey. “She was of the opinion that the sooner he is out of the Vale, the sooner Jess can set about healing from his betrayal.” 

“Poor Jess,” I murmured as I stepped inside. Falena was waiting for me, standing straight when I entered. She gave Joffrey a gracious nod. “Morning, Fal! How are Sera and Sab?”

“Sera is with the children, Rhaenyra,” she replied. “You know what she’s like, and Sab mentioned something about the training yard?”

And Marya and Maris were still in King’s Landing… sometimes I was sad that my ladies were not entirely free to follow me where I wished these days. Still, they had found their own callings and their own happiness and I could not begrudge them that. My brows furrowed when I finally processed Falena’s report on where Sab was…

“I see Laenor’s punishment of Jocelyn has already gotten about?” Falena grimaced as she started unravelling my dress.

“A most unusual punishment,” she said finally, after fighting with a tricky knot I suspected was mine. “But then Jocelyn is an unusual Princess, so I suppose it fits.”

“An uncommonly broad minded opinion,” I said, and then regretted it. Falena paused and raised an eyebrow.

“Jocelyn is how the Seven made her,” she replied finally, then her tone darkened. “As is Lady Laena.”

“Will you finally speak against her to me?” I asked, struggling not to go still. Falena sighed as I stepped out of the dress.

“No. You have made up your mind. You will hold her close until the end of days and nothing I say will change that. I know when I am beaten.” I could not see her face as she bustled across to fetch me a dress more suitable for meeting with lords and ladies. I swallowed thickly anyway. I had known Falena long enough to know when she was masking emotions in her voice.

“Beaten?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. She brought a dress over, an odd expression on her face.

“Were it up to me she would never have returned to your side,” she stated, beginning to help me dress. “She disgraced herself, she disgraced the… trust you have in her.” 

“She did not do so lightly,” I argued. “Even you can not deny she was not well.”

Falena was silent for a little while and I had begun to get annoyed with her when she sighed heavily and gave me an odd kind of lopsided smile I had never seen from her before. 

“I hope she knows how far you go to defend her.” I blinked at that, annoyance evaporating. “I hope she knows how much you love her.”

I opened my mouth to deny everything and then closed it again straight after when she shot me a raised eyebrow.

“I have served you for over a decade. I have seen you birth your children. I have seen your lowest points… I am loyal to you. You are my Princess and my Queen. It is not my place to judge, only to serve.” I did not know what to say to that, so I said nothing, allowing her to finish dressing me and fixing the prosthetic in place. She left before I did, her back straighter than many knights new to my service and I cursed myself. She was proud of her service to me. To Patrek. It meant too much to her to throw it away over Laena… or any habits I may have that she found distasteful.

It was with a considerably worse mood that I made my way to my offices and found a familiar face waiting outside. He looked nervous, but then I’d have been offended had he not. He also looked considerably thinner than when I last saw him. His dark hair and beard streaked with silver… yet not even that could hide just how tired he looked. I bit my lip and forced myself to remember what had landed him here.

“Lord Redfort,” I said, smiling at him as he bowed low.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” he murmured, returning my smile. “It has been quite some time.”

“I have not seen you since Jeyne’s wedding,” I replied, smiling despite myself. Damn it, the man had stood up for me all those years ago. He’d been more than helpful… and then he’d thrown it all away by caving to pressure.

“Indeed,” he said sadly. “Better times.”

“Yes.” I gestured to my office and he stepped in ahead of me, waiting until I was seated to take his own seat. I waited in silence as he shifted in his seat, peering about at the space that I had run Dragonstone from for over a decade before smiling. There was pain in that smile.

“When my boys were rowdy, I’d call them to my solar. Now I know what that feels like,” he chuckled. It was bitter and full of self-recrimination. “Now my boys won’t speak to me.”

“And Jess?” I asked. He shook his head and swallowed.

“As far as I know, she burns the letters I send her-” He cut himself off and sighed. “I can not blame her. She did not want the match. Even if I were the type to overlook that in my children, it was not a match worthy of her.”

“Then why?” I asked. I was quite sure he’d been asked a thousand times before. His jaw clenched. “If someone has information that compromises you this badly, I will have no choice but to send you back to Lady Jey-”

“No!” he barked, eyes wide. I watched as his face shifted through emotions before settling on defeat. He slumped in his chair and raised his hand to his eyes. “By the Seven… very well. I am damned if I do and damned if I do not.”

“You have my word that the only other I shall tell will be Ser Joffrey,” I said in my most conciliatory tone. He sighed and was silent for a long while. I was starting to grow annoyed with him again when he swallowed loudly and leaned forward, meeting my eyes.

“My first foray here… I viewed it as an opportunity to raise the profile of my own house. I was not disloyal to my liege, you understand, but I was not… entirely loyal to yourself.” I grit my teeth and forced my expression to remain neutral. His eyes flickered about the room as if he were trying to estimate the quickest way out. “I made contacts on both sides of the factions here… I… made a bit of money. No, I am bending the truth. I made a lot of money off of Blacks and Greens alike who wished me to take advantage of my position.”

“And compromise mine in turn,” I growled, annoyed that I had somehow missed this. That Joffrey had somehow missed this.

“Never anything too dangerous,” he protested before sinking back into his seat. “Then I figured it all over and done with when Rhea took my place. At least until-”

“Until there were those that remembered and were eager to remind you of it.” He rubbed at his brow again.

“They had proof,” he told me. “They had… proof. They wanted little things at first and then more and more-”

“That is how blackmailers operate,” I told him testily before biting my lip. “One slip, that’s all it takes.”

He lowered his hand from his face and stared at me.

“Jess… seeing that bastard cloak her in Templeton colours… that was the final straw. I told them I would do nothing more for them. That they could all go hang. Had I known it was those incompetent-” He cut himself off, fury dying as suddenly as it had come.

“It likely was not,” I told him, feeling pity gnaw at the anger I felt for him. What punishment could I hand down that would top what he had already received? “Joffrey believes the Greens involved. Go to him. Tell him everything. Every lord, every knight - anyone you had dealings with, however minor.”

“And my shame spreads,” he muttered bitterly.

“It is likely to spread further should they choose to target you on your return to the capital. Mayhaps Joffrey will use you as bait?” He laughed at that although there was little joy in it.

“I will serve however you wish me to. Maybe if I am tempting enough, my children might one day forgive me?” I stared at him for a moment and then swallowed thickly. His situation was not mine. I should not read into it- The sound of a bell ringing made me freeze and Gerold himself sit up straight in his chair.

“The prince ret-” I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence because I bolted as fast as my legs would take me, forcing poor Ser Erryk to up his own speed to match mine. I must have knocked more than a few staff flying as I sprinted to that courtyard. It felt somehow worse now than it did the day I realised Alys had gotten up there. Then it had been over before the fear had ever truly set in, but now… now all I could see was my son’s worried face that morning.

I could barely breathe as I crashed out into the almost empty courtyard. It was not almost empty for long though. Steffon and Jocelyn, Alys and Rhaenys, Aemma and Rhaena, Laenor and Rolph and the multitude of others from about the castle were streaming in. It seemed a struggle to even force air into my lungs and I was glad of Ser Erryk stepping forward to hold me upright as the world spun around me a little. 

A moment later, I was even more thankful for his support because when I looked up into the late morning sky, and my eyes found my son’s new mount flying alongside Vhagar, the world shifted underneath me again and only his hold kept me upright.

Laena had been right when she had said words did not do him justice. It truly was like looking at living gold.


	181. Interlude - Aemon

He paused, leaning down to grip his knees and allowed himself a moment’s rest whilst feeling guilty all the time. His mama needed him to be the best he could! Then came the fear… At least the guilt vanished when his aunt crashed into the gravel next to him with a groan.

“The things I do for your mother,” she sighed, then peered at him with a grin. “How are you holding up?”

He ran through the breathing exercises Ser Rogar and his father had shown him, slowly bringing the desperate beating of his heart under control.

“I’m good, auntie Laena,” he replied, trying for cheerful. She smiled at him once more, eyes shining with sympathy and he looked away, suddenly annoyed. He’d seen that same look in his mother’s eyes. They all saw his fear and they all pitied him for it. Even Jo and Alys did! Alys hadn’t been afraid. She’d come up here alone while he had forced aunt Laena to follow him up like some kind of baby. He’d needed words of comfort from everyone to even stop shaking at the thought of the Dragonmont. 

“My father feared his mount and it hatched for him!” His grandmama had told him, laughing all the time. “Mother used to tease him about it. He only truly went down and rode Caraxes for the first time after she bullied him into it. Aemon! Your namesake had been married to my mother for two years by that point.”

That had made him feel a little better. Grandmama Rhaenys had told him that prince Aemon had not been a rider in truth until he was seventeen! Nobody he had ever met had called prince Aemon a craven or spoke ill of him. Neither did any of the books about him that he and Aemma had found when they had scoured the library for them. Even Grand Maester Edmund had helped find them books on the matter so that they could check. Grandpapa Corlys had been kind as well.

“-so there I was, staring down a girl young enough to be my daughter and near shitting myself doing so. Just five and ten she was, and not as tall as she is now, let me tell you!” He had recounted solemnly. “Not so much a courting as a hostage negotiation. Then she insisted that I fly on Meleys’ back at least once before the wedding and I tell you, I almost gave the whole matter up for a bad job there and then.”

He had laughed at the time, picturing a young Grandpapa Corlys who’d sought his Grandmama’s hand in marriage and found that she had decided to seek his as well, whether he liked it or not. Even men who had sailed around the world and fought storms and pirates were afraid of dragons! That’s what everyone insisted. The fear it made him lesser somehow still gnawed at his insides, but it hurt less now, and he felt a bit better when he straightened and caught his aunt’s eye. She groaned again.

“I’m beginning to think I’m getting old,” she opined finally, smiling at him. “If I can’t even keep up with a tiny thing like you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, auntie,” he said finally. Then he smiled, thinking of what his mother might say to that statement. “Should I let mother know?”

She barked with laughter and pushed herself to her feet, grimacing when her leg shook underneath her. She had made him swear an oath he would not tell his mama how much her injuries were bothering her.

“Aemon, I’d sooner walk through the Doom once more than let her know. Your mama does not need to be worrying over me,” she said, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “I’ve already caused enough trouble recently.”

She had not told him what trouble that was, but he knew his mama had banished her from the family gathering the night before his nameday for it. He had let it lie, she would not tell him and it wasn’t like Jo hadn’t caused her own mess. 

“You’re her heir,” she had said miserably to him. “Not me. Why am I not her heir?”

“Do you want to be heir?” he’d asked, genuinely curious. She had given him a look of despair before shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t be very good at it. Just like I’m not good at anything else.” He’d wanted to tell her that wasn’t true but he knew it was impossible to reason with Jo when she was like that so he had left the matter alone. He could tell uncle Joffrey, he supposed. He might know what to do. Aunt Laena, papa and mama were out, though. They’d overreact, they’d either draw her close or scold her for even saying it out loud.

He felt guilt stir in him again as they began walking. He liked being heir. He wanted to be his mama’s heir. He did not want Jo to be the heir instead of him even if Jo did really want it. He found himself fidgeting with his sleeve as aunt Laena strode ahead of him. Was this what uncle Aegon was like? He did not know what he would do if his mama decided Jo was her heir one day.

He was distracted from his thinking on the matter as aunt Laena slammed to a halt with an annoyed sigh and produced a rumpled map from her belt, laying it out, squinting at it before sighing again. He scooted closer, peering at her spider-like scribbles and finding he understood none of it. She was mumbling to herself, like she did when she had her books out and spread across uncle Joffrey’s desk at home.

“-f only I had bothered to check,” his aunt was muttering, chewing on her lip and looking frustrated.

“Bothered to check what, auntie Laena?” he asked. She blinked slowly, her angry mutters dying on her lips as she turned to face him.

“It is nothing, Aemon, just something we need to avoid.” That statement made fear rise in him once more.

“The Cannibal?” he asked, hating how small his voice had gone. She blinked again and then cursed, sending his ears red. Mama would box his ears if he said those things. Mama would box auntie Laena’s ears if she heard her saying those things.

“No,” she assured him after a moment, turning the map so he could see it. She pointed to a mark. “This one here-”

Then she hesitated, tongue darting out to wet her lips in the way she only did when she knew what she was about to do would make papa and mama angry at her. Or uncle Joffrey, but that didn’t happen a lot.

“You know,” she said finally. “This is a dragon your mother is terrified of.”

He stared at her before staring at the map, and then at her once more. His mama, scared of a dragon? His mama that had gone and found Syrax when she had been Aemma’s age? After she had escaped Dragonstone in secret to do so? He reached forward and pulled auntie Laena’s hands closer, staring at the mark she’d indicated.

“Is it a very fearsome dragon?” he asked, unable to move his eyes from where her finger was still tapping.

“Certainly a big one,” mused auntie Laena. “But not overly dangerous. Your mama is scared of it all the same.”

He stared some more, words dying in his throat every time he figured out something he could say.

“Why?” he finally managed. “Mama is… mama loves dragons.”

“Not this one. She had a bad dream about it once.” That did not sound like his mama. “I got in trouble for picking it out for you.”

“Picking it out for me?” he asked, feeling his eyes go wide. “Why? If mama is afraid of it?”

“I did not know,” she sighed and then chuckled. “Of course your mama recognised it.”

So that was why auntie Laena was in trouble. He let his hands ghost over the map as a sudden burning curiosity seized him.

“Can we see it?” he asked. Auntie Laena’s face changed from a soft smile to suddenly very worried.

“Ah,” she said. “I’m not sure… I think your mother may actually kill me if you come home on its back.”

“But he would be tamed,” he insisted, warming to the idea. “Mama could not be scared if he were mine.”

“She could be,” said auntie Laena, sounding frantic. “Aemon… humour me?”

He watched her, seeing the panic in her eyes and in her form, realising that she had been trying to comfort him by telling him about the dragon that so scared his mother. Comfort him like every other person had since his mama’s nameday feast. He glanced back down at the map, seeing they were not truly far from the mark that indicated the dragon’s lair. He glanced back up to her, to her pleading eyes, and came to a decision.

“Aemon!” she cried as he took off, running as fast he could in the direction of the dragon. He heard her give chase and nearly stopped when he heard her fall. At least until he remembered those pitying eyes. She would be angry with him later, he realised. Especially if mama blamed her, and that nearly made him stop as well. She went with him because he asked…

He ran on, her cries for him to stop and wait and talk to her falling far behind. Mama would be angry if she knew just what auntie Laena was hiding from her. He did not think her leg was as bad as uncle Joffrey’s, but it was bad if she couldn’t catch him. He half wanted her to catch him though, to stop him from finding the dragon that terrified his mother so.

But she didn’t, and when he finally slowed down at the obvious signs of a dragon nearby, there was no sign of his auntie, nor could he hear her voice. Sudden fear hit him again, rooting his feet to the ground as he realised just how foolish he’d been. Tears pricked at his eyes suddenly. He was all alone, and if the dragon ate him now then nobody would ever know.

What bad dream had his mama had about this dragon? 

The low growl was what knocked him from his stupor. He waited, barely able to breathe as he heard claws scraping on rock and something big moving nearby. Auntie Laena did not come and save him. She did not fly in out of nowhere at the last second. He was alone and scared when the dragon rounded the corner, its massive head swinging back and forth as if seeking out just who had interrupted its day.

His mouth dropped open and his fear seemed so far away all of a sudden. It was beautiful. A speck of gold in a sea of gravel. He itched to draw it even as it towered over him, caution replaced with curiosity as it, like he had, realised he was not a threat to it. He reached out with one shaking hand to brush over luminous golden scales. The dragon stilled and tilted its head down to examine him once more, not as a threat... but as its rider.

“Hello,” he said, voice faint with awe rather than fear. “Would you let me on your back?”

The dragon seemed to let out a huff, as if the idea of allowing a mere human to touch its beautiful form was simply too much and that Aemon had made some kind of dragon faux pas. Yet something must have filtered through to it- him, because a moment later he lowered his head and allowed him to clamber up his neck. He found the soft area of skin his mama had always told him about, and the dragon let out a satisfied growl as he rubbed at it.

“I guess you need a name,” he said finally, after a few moments had passed and the last of the fear had eased within him entirely. Yet a name for his new mount would have to wait, he thought, as the dragon’s contented grumble became a warning growl and he looked up to see Vhagar closing in fast.


	182. Preparation - Chapter 156

It was distinctly possible that Ser Erryk was the only reason my legs had not gone completely from underneath me. I took a deep breath as the two dragons got closer and closer and then took another, unable to tear my eyes away from Sunfyre. Sunfyre, the dragon that had devoured original Rhaenya in six bites in another world. Not me, I tried to tell myself. If I had proved anything, it was that I was not original Rhaenyra.

It all seemed so very far away as both Vhagar and Sunfyre came in for landing. I could see both Laena and Aemon now. My son, with an exultant look on his face as he stared out over us all… and Laena, very pale and looking guilty from her seat atop Vhagar. I swallowed and forced a smile onto my face. It would not do for him to see me panicking, to see me disapproving of his mount. I did not doubt that Laena had done her best to steer him away from it.

“Your Grace?” murmured Ser Erryk as Aemon began clambering down from his mount to the loud cheers of the onlookers. “Are you well?”

I took another deep breath. He did not know, none but Laenor, Joffrey and Laena knew, and I could not afford to reveal it any further. Not even to Steffon or Corlys. My knowledge was out-of-date anyway. Helaena would be the one to ask now. Not that she would ever reveal her dreams except in the most dire of circumstances.

“I did not expect his mount to be so large,” I mumbled, turning to face him briefly. He bought my excuse and smiled indulgently. I was a mother worrying for her son’s safety in his eyes, fretting over a dangerous situation as any mother should.

“Yet you can not deny it is a worthy mount for a prince,” he replied, still smiling. Erryk had joined Rhaenyra’s side once. I hoped that smile was genuine. “It fits that he should find the most beautiful dragon in existence.”

It was Sunfyre. It was my death. It was not beautiful. I turned to examine it again as it almost preened under the scrutiny it was receiving. Already Jocelyn had pushed forward to lay her hands against its golden scales. I struggled to keep the frown off of my face as my legs finally began moving and I was able to make my way to my son. He was so close to the creature… but I could not let him see my fear.

“Well done,” I rasped, not daring to turn my head. I could feel its heat even this close and part of me wanted to curl up and cry. “It’s a fine mount.”

Aemon paused, half way through wriggling away from Luke ruffling his hair and turned to look at me, looking suddenly guilty. Likely he thought I was growing agitated at the size of his mount and not… the nature of it.

“Thank you, mama,” he said solemnly and I winced. Did he think it a reflection on himself? I forced myself to crouch down to his height and drew him close. I felt him bury his hands in the thick fabric of my dress and my heart hurt a little.

“I mean it,” I murmured, bringing my hand up to run my fingers through his hair. “I am so proud of you.”

He stayed like that for a moment until Alys’ laughter, said in response to a joke by Rolph, had him pulling away to crane his head curiously at what was being said. I smiled, still painfully aware of the beast preening and grumbling ever so close to me, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Go,” I said, and he gave me a curious look. “It is your moment in the s- sun.”

I cursed the brief stammer even as I watched him consider that for a second, head tilted slightly in thought, before smiling at me as if I were being foolish and he was preparing to point it out.

“But mama,” he said. “He still needs a name?”

“A name?” I repeatedly hoarsely. It had a name. It… no, it was not Aegon’s mount. It was my son’s. I took another deep breath and Aemon seemed to wither at the action. Mentally, I winced before forcing false cheer into my voice. “Are you not going to name it?”

“Well, you named Morrigan,” he said, as if he were trying to be reasonable. “And auntie Laena says you named Skywalker too.”

“And you want me to name your mount?” I asked, some confusion leaking in. My naming conventions had caused consternation in the past. Naming Jocelyn’s mount for a war goddess from my previous life had left Rhaenys sulking with me for a week and Laena frowning whenever the name was brought up for nearly a month after. Laenor had given in, he’d liked the sound of the name. All of which I pointed to in order to absolve myself months later when an incredibly nice letter had arrived from Lord Morrigen thanking us for the honour…

At least we had a supporter for life in him now.

“Yes,” said Aemon, slowly, as if he were talking to a simpleton. “You have the best names.”

I swallowed and finally peered up at the dragon. He had laid his head down to better allow his adoring fans to crowd in close. I watched as Jocelyn bent down and allowed Alys to scramble onto her back. When she stood up, I could see a grimace on her face even as Alys cooed in delight from her new and better vantage point. My eyes flicked about, not finding Laena nearby and ready to scold her…

“Laenor!” I called. He dragged himself away from the dragon and immediately spotted the issue, giving me a serious nod for all that I could see his eyes sparkling with amusement and delight. He knew well what this dragon was to me and yet… and yet he could not fail to be happy for his son. So why couldn’t I?

“Mama?” said son asked, sounding worried.

“I was thinking,” I replied quickly. Too quickly and too harshly. I watched as he squirmed, my tone making him uncomfortable. “My apologies. Your sisters are-”

“Being Jo and Alys?” he asked, seemingly forcing a smile to his face. I winced at his attempt at good cheer. He should not have to comfort me. I am his mother. I took a deep breath and tried to force the tension from my body, turning to watch Laenor haul Alys onto his own shoulders.

“Yes,” I replied as Alys laughed in delight, reaching out her hands once more to touch golden scales. “But I am curious as to why you won’t name i- him? It is your right as his rider?”

“But I want you to name him,” he said stubbornly, a brief frown marring his features and making him look more like Laenor than ever. I forced a chuckle and that seemed to soothe him, a small smile crossing my son’s face. It was still too much effort to push myself back to my feet and turn to look at Sunfyre in all its glory. Truly, the original Aegon had named his mount well. Even looking at him now, I could think of few names more appropriate. Like liquid gold and beautiful beyond measure, its scales glinting in the early afternoon light…

Yet I could not name the creature Sunfyre. My mouth would not form the words, as if speaking the name would set me on that terrible path to his maw… to be devoured in six bites… I shuddered before I could stop myself. No, I could not name him Sunfyre. Which begged the question, what then? Something related to gold? I searched my memories… certainly no more pop culture references, I think. Skywalker was bad enough. 

Something more obscure perhaps. A Valyrian name in the same vein as Rhaenyra’s original children’s dragons? Let me think… Vermax, Arrax… Tyraxes? Perhaps I was misremembering that last one. Or perhaps I was not. All three were the names of Valyrian gods… I suspect they may have originated with original Rhaenyra herself. It seemed the Targaryen’s had delighted in naming their mounts for gods they no longer worshipped. 

Over by Sunfyre, Aemma had decided she wished for a turn and was tugging urgently at Laenor’s doublet. I blinked again as I noticed a pouting Rhaena by her side and looked for Laena once more in the crowd only to find no sign of her. No Rhaenys either. Had they left? It certainly did not bode well. I bit my lip at the thought. Laena collected injuries like some people collected interesting novelties. Had she managed to come to some harm on the mountain?

“What about naming him for one of the fourteen?” I finally asked. Aemon tilted his head again.

“I can’t,” he said finally. “He’s beautiful so he should be named for the Goddess of Beauty…”

I saw the issue straight away.

“And Daeron already took that name,” I surmised and Aemon nodded, his eyes shining fiercely. “How presumptive of him.”

“Shrykos is the God of the sky,” I suggested. “Vermax for truth, Tyraxes for the forge… for creation.”

“Vermax…” murmured Aemon. “The father of Vermithor…”

“Indeed,” I replied. “Do you remember your lessons on him?”

Aemon nodded, his eyes gazing into the distance as he thought that over. Finally, he seemed to come to some sort of decision. He nodded to himself and then turned to me with a small smile on his face.

“I like Tyraxes,” he said, tilting his face up to peer at me. “But I like Vermax more.”

Vermax. Jacaerys’ mount had been Vermax… it seemed right somehow that my son and her son should name their dragons similarly. It was a way to honour the boy who died before his time, who should have been king if not for betrayal. Otto was not around now to lure the Triarchy into siding with the Greens, Aemon would not fall in some battle of the Gullet parallel. He would not go to battle at all. He would remain with me, he would stay by my side…

“Vermax it is then,” I decided, feeling a bubble of amusement swell up inside me. Enough that my fear of the beast died a little and it was easier to look at him. Aemon gave a brief squeeze of my hand and raced off, calling out to Luke and Rolph to let him join in on the shoving match they appeared to be having. Evidently Luke’s sulking with Jocelyn did not extend to Rolph… slightly unfair considering the boy had gone along with Jocelyn’s plan enthusiastically, but then they were children, I supposed.

I waited until Aemon was well and truly distracted before turning my attention to the courtyard once more, eyes lingering in the shadows to see if I could spot where my lover had hidden herself. No, she definitely was not present. I glanced back towards the ongoing wonder over Sun- Vermax before turning away entirely and making my way inside the Keep. I knew Rhaenys well enough to know that if Laena was injured, Rhaenys had likely dragged her to Gerardys. I had ensured the man was around, this day out of all days. The Keep was nearly deserted as I made my way to his old tower and to where the injured of Dragonstone were now housed, instead of the old dusty books a Maester was expected to keep… I caught one of his students rushing away from the tower a mere few feet away from it. The man went pale when he saw me, his eyes flickering nervously back upwards told me all I needed to know.

“I take it Lady Velaryon has found her way there?” I asked. He swallowed nervously and looked at everything but my face.

“Princess Rhaenys as well, Your Grace,” he finally managed to stammer out. “The Dean ordered the doors barred to all… Your Grace.”

I blinked slowly at that and drew a breath in. What had she done? With any luck it would only be a bad sprain… surely Aemon would have told me if she had managed to hurt herself severely?

“I see,” I said finally. “Even to me?”

“Your Grace… please understand… that is, every patient has a right to privacy-” I cut him with a wave.

“I know Gerardys' practises well, you need not fear retaliation. In fact, I will commend your attitude to him when I next see him.” He sighed in relief and seemed to slump even as I frowned.

Today had not gone the way I wanted it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have another story in the form of Heir of the Cruel, please give it a look if the idea of Prince Viserys, son of Aenys, surviving his uncle Maegor interests you!


	183. Preparation - Chapter 157

Both Laena and Rhaenys refused to speak on the matter of her mysterious injury further, no matter how much I whined, wheedled or outright commanded them to sit down and tell me. Neither would Gerardys, who gave me one firm refusal and settled for an almost disappointed look anytime I brought it up afterwards. That, combined with Sun- Vermax seemingly in my line of sight no matter which way I turned and awed wonder at the sight of him being anything anyone could speak about left me in a black mood by the time it came to board the _Princess Rhaenyra_ and head back to King’s Landing.

It was a struggle to hide it from the children, and I spent most of my time sulking in my cabin with even Laenor and Joffrey avoiding me. It made me want to scream. I knew with every fibre of my being that I was being irrational, that taking my anger and unhappiness out on others was the easy road, the road original Rhaenyra had taken gleefully by the end… hells, she’d probably done it more than enough in her normal life too…

The prospect of somehow behaving worse than she did had me standing up and marching from the cabin Laenor and I shared with a decidedly brittle smile on my face. King’s Landing was in sight and the dragons were playing in the sky above us when I paused to lean on the doorframe, shielding my eyes against the sun. The closest person to me was Jocelyn, who was dejectedly pushing a mop about, to little effect. She met my gaze and paled slightly, her eyes flicking back across the deck to where Ser Steffon and Ser Erryk watched over my children and chatted to themselves.

“I will not tell him, but he will know if you do not put some effort into it.” She didn’t answer, shot me a look that bordered on hateful and then started pushing the mop around with a little more effort at least. I wanted to sigh, to draw her close… but I could not. Laenor had never done so regarding my punishments and I could not do that to his. Instead, I made my way carefully around the damp area and let the sunlight hit me.

“Ho! She finally emerges from her pit!” called a cheerful voice and I turned to find Corlys grinning at me from his position lounging against the taffrail. I swallowed my annoyance and joined him.

“You can not tell me our little trip did not go as well as hoped,” I told him, tone more sour than I would like. He chuckled and turned away from me, pale violet eyes staring out across the sea.

“I’d say it went well enough,” he finally said. “Aemon got his dragon and nobody was seriously injured-”

“That I know of,” I muttered, cutting him off. He sighed and let his head drop.

“For all the growing you’ve done, you haven’t changed at all in some ways,” he chuckled after a moment. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I asked tartly. He lifted his head and gave me a roguish grin. A decade earlier and such a smile might have set my heart racing. He was still handsome, of course, but time was taking its toll on him.

“Still trying to force things that will come easier should you leave them be,” he told me, eyebrow raised. “Still rushing onward instead of stopping and taking stock, planning out where you need to go.”

“Might I remind you of the shit show that occurred last time I was proactive?” I asked and he shook his head.

“That wasn’t proactive,” he said, self-recrimination in his tone. “The matter with Otto was sheer bloody arrogance and I should have stepped in to tell you that, it should not have been only Joffrey.”

“What is done is done. We have corrected the damage and gained a powerful new ally from it.” 

“Through sheer luck,” he replied, then turned to look out across the ship’s deck. “And I am not so certain the Dornish are our allies… or even that powerful.”

“Ten thousand spears that threaten the Reach should they rise-”

“Ten thousand reasons to drive neutral lords to the Green camp,” he countered. “Still, we speak as if war is assured.”

“It is still a possibility, though, and war is coming, if not against my brother then against Daemon… you know well he sits in the east and plots and plans. I am not so naive to think he will not return sooner rather than later.” Perhaps that was why I was so certain there would be violence before it was done.

“You may be right there,” said Corlys and I thought I detected some grief in his tone. “I know him… knew him. Mayhaps these years have changed him for the better?”

There was no real hope in that tone. It was not Daemon’s nature to change for the better in defeat. No doubt he had spent a decade marinating in his own rage and hate after his loss of everything he held dear. Especially given the news about his daughter, a second rider.

“Against a united Westeros,” Corlys said after a moment. “He has no chance and he knows it, but against Westeros divided? Your brother may use his invasion to push a Great Council once more.”

“My brother brings four dragons to the table, five if Viserra finally decides to ride one. Not an inconsiderable amount, but Aegon puts little thought into his dragon, he is more obsessed with his image. Helaena is a fierce rider but she would not abandon me in war… and as for Aemond and Daeron, I do not know. Aemond aches for war, he wishes to prove himself and he has long held Daemon to be the acceptable target-” Corlys cut me off.

“-but he is loyal to Aegon and Aegon alone, you have no need to tell me this, I know it well,” he stated. “I sit in those meetings with Joffrey as well. I probably pay more attention than you. Do not mistake my misgivings for an attack, I am happy you have begun moving politically again and words can not describe my joy regarding Viserys, even if I question the name.”

“My father is my greatest supporter,” I replied, keeping my tone even. He shrugged.

“Mayhaps I fancied a grandson named after myself,” he laughed, turning once again to the sea with a wistful look in his eyes. I smiled at him before looking back out myself. King’s Landing was growing ever closer. We would be in port before the hour, I would guess, although I had no doubt Laenor could tell me more accurately how long it would take.

“No doubt every generation of Velaryons will have a Corlys or a Corla before long,” I assured him. “It is a name that implies greatness, after all. The Sea Snake, the first Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.”

“Perhaps Viserys or Luke will name a child for me then,” he mused.

“The Seven know Luke practically worships the ground you walk on,” I told him and he smiled broadly and fondly. 

“He’ll be a rogue, that one,” he warned me, only half serious. 

“Who can blame him? When he picks such dubious role models.” That made him laugh loudly, attracting attention to us from all across the deck. I swallowed sudden nerves and decided to wade into Velaryon family drama despite my knowledge on what invariably happens when I do. “Have you spoken to Laena recently?”

His joy was marred by the dark look that flickered briefly across his features before he settled on a decidedly strained smile.

“I have not,” he stated firmly. “I know what she is to you, Rhaenyra, and I know concern for us both drives you to ask, but I beg of you not to. The damage has been done.”

“What damage?” I asked. “What about her disgusts you so?”

“I’ve seen many things in my life, Rhaenyra, and I have not told any of the worst of them… knowing my own daughter is likely capable of things that only my nightmares can conjure...” he trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid, but the implication was obvious. I swallowed, remembering the wyrm as it twisted and writhed on the lab floor and the terrible heat as it pushed its way from the egg…

“She can’t even hatch a dragon egg properly,” I mumbled. “I’m not sure what you think she can do… but I doubt it.”

He raised his eyebrow at me before snorting.

“I know my daughter, Rhaenyra. She’ll keep pushing and pushing - do not deny to me you have set men watching her. Something has happened that worried even you.” He made it sound like an accusation.

“I would have thought oversight would please you,” I shot back. His eyebrow rose a fraction further.

“You are avoiding answering me,” he replied. Now he was challenging me. Baiting me to tell him he was wrong and that Laena wouldn’t walk blithely into something she couldn’t take back because the desire for knowledge blinded her to nearly everything. “When she was a child, we used to have to drag her from her books. She was obsessed with the history of the Freehold, of dragons… at one point, I had to order the Maester to get rid of every book that even mentioned it. Then, to spite me, she rode Vhagar until even her mother began to fear for her health.”

“I know what she is like, hence the men Jerrett is sending to her.” He nodded, looking unconvinced and I strangled my annoyance again. “You act as if Laenor is not the same. As if he did not drive everyone to near murderous rage with this ship, or the way that if he had not made this marriage or loved High Tide half as much, he’d have left for Yi Ti years ago.”

“I am aware of that too,” chuckled Corlys. “Yet Yi Ti I remember fondly, and this ship is a marvel… I do not remember Asshai fondly, and that is what I picture when I see my daughter.”

“That sounds like your problem, then,” I snapped, my early mood coming back to bite at me and he snorted.

“I am glad she has you,” he said, tone subdued. “But I will not pretend to be glad for what she has become, what she has done in the past or what she may do in the future. Magic warps people.”

There were a thousand things I could say to that. I could protest that he had set her on this path when he threw her before Daemon to lure him ever closer, like one might lure a mouse with cheese on a string. Falling prey to his charms had eventually come to destroy her self worth, whether through Daemon’s own strangling love or the aftermath of bearing a bastard and the hoops she’d to jump through to hide it. Even then, the whispers of a hostile Court had cut keen… the perceived failure had driven her to finding something she was good at, that she could use to aid her family and keep them safe…

But I was reaching and I knew. Laena had made the decision to do as she did at every point, and I bore more blame in the matter than Corlys ever could. I loved her and I forgave her more than I should, I loved her and I gave her a role and a place in life because to not have her close hurt too much…

At my silence, Corlys laid a hand on my shoulder and gave me a crooked smile. I could not read the emotions on his face, nor could I parse the expression he wore. Grief maybe? Mixed with pride? Annoyance?

“I appreciate the attempt,” he said finally. “Must I suffer through the same on Laenor’s behalf?”

“You seem happy with him right now,” I observed after taking the time to swallow thickly. Surprise introspection ambushing me from nowhere…

“I am,” he replied. “More than I can say… I am proud of him, of the man he has become.”

But not the man he had been, I read between the lines. Not the Laenor I married but the Laenor he pretended to be to please the Court for no other reason than I had practically forced him too. The black mood was back to stay it would seem. At my frown, Corlys groaned.

“I thought hearing that would cheer you up,” he sighed.

“Laenor has not changed so drastically since I married him. You’re proud of a mask he wears,” I groused. Corlys snorted derisively once more, eyes rolling so hard I feared he might strain them.

“Pray tell, are his skills with that blade he carries fake? Perhaps the very ship we stand on is also a lie… and one can not deny that he invested well in the Vale and your hare-brained ideas. Driftmark will remain powerful for decades to come and he is not even its lord in truth yet,” Corlys told me, almost boasting. “I will not deny I do not understand his... proclivities, but he has done his duty and I have become fond enough of my goodson. That has never been my issue with him. My issue was that he never tried to hide what he was, that he should be so clever and never apply himself.”

Another thing I could blame Corlys for but I think he knew… besides, this conversation had already gone so badly off the rails that I wasn’t sure how to rescue it. We both seemed doomed to leave vaguely annoyed at the other.

“Have you told him that?” I asked. 

“It is hard,” said Corlys. “The words never seem to come out right. You may look at me incredulously, young lady, but one day you’ll be faced with telling your children how proud you are of them and you’ll find yourself in the same boat.”

“I fear I am not my children’s favourite person right now,” I mumbled, taking the opening to steer away from the topic. Corlys bit back a chuckle.

“They will forget soon enough,” he said, diplomatically. “Besides, soon they shall be out and about in Westeros itself, their excitement will trump any lingering ill-will.”

“I can scarcely wait,” I admitted. “These days I spend preparing… they seem endless. It will be a relief to be on the road.”

“Were I a younger man, I’d be following you,” Corlys admitted. “But my duties to you and your father keep me bound to the capital. Perhaps I shall have Rhaenys fly me out if she is well enough too, or if Lyonel is able to spare me.”

“Lyonel?” I asked. Corlys blinked and then looked decidedly sheepish… an expression I had never seen on his face before.

“Lyonel… don’t repeat this but, he isn’t well. It seems the man has a chill that will not lift, no matter what that infernal Maester pours down his throat. I have been covering a few of his duties for a while now.” I was aware my own eyebrows must be in danger of disappearing into my hair.

“Does father know?” I asked. Lyonel was not loyal to me, how could he be when father had revealed what I had accused his second oldest son of, but he was father’s man through and through. If he died before father as he did in canon… “Damn it all, I wish you had told me! I would have ferried Gerardys to him-”

“He will not see him. He barely puts up with Edmund and yes, I suspect your father does know,” Corlys said, interrupting me once more. I lapsed into a reflective silence, worry for Lyonel Strong biting at me now as well as my utter failure of a trip to Dragonstone. “Rhaenyra, do not act on this. I am managing the situation.”

How could I not? Did Joffrey know? This seemed like a matter for Joffrey.

“Prepare for port!” called one of the men and I realised with a startled clarity, that we had reached King’s Landing.


	184. Preparation - Chapter 158

Borros’ roar of laughter had me suppressing a twitch as I watched him all but double over at the waist. His wife, the ever formidable Lady Elenda, had picked up on it, I was sure, because she was directing her own annoyed look at her husband. Although I had not failed to see the slight twitch of her own lips as I had explained the events on Dragonstone. We were standing in a small shelter on the beach, gazing out over the assembled dragons. 

A visual reminder of my might for my supporters. Especially as no one could fail to notice Sunfyre was barely smaller than my own Syrax and far more beautiful besides. It would also not escape their notice that only Aemond had a dragon big enough to even begin to rival my dragons in size and even then, both Vhagar and Vermithor still outstripped the mighty beast.

“Did I not warn you all those years ago?” asked Elenda, voice fond and amused now she was not glaring at her oaf of a husband. “Far too much Baratheon.”

“Forgive me, but I do not see your daughters disguising themselves to enter tourneys,” I groused, making them both laugh again.

“I’ll grant you they’ve never gone that far but I’ve seen enough duels they’ve instigated to assure you they are just as troublesome,” replied Elenda, smiling. “Cassandra especially.”

I gazed down to where all three girls were crowding close to my son, each praising his new mount so loudly and lavishly that I could just about make out their words even so far away. Each was aware now they had only a year to win him over, a year before his betrothal was set in stone. I had my own opinion, of course, and would ensure he knew it, but at the end of the day the choice was his.

Wasn’t that a thought. My daughters had not been so lucky. Yet it only mattered to Borros that one of his daughters was Queen, he did not play favourites. Something Elenda had assured me, he was firm but fair with them and they respected that. Still, I would prefer gentle Ellyn over proud Cassandra or cunning and sharp-tongued Maris. That she was the youngest, at eleven to Aemon’s nine, was also a boon. Cassandra was considered a woman grown at sixteen and whilst Maris was only a year older than Ellyn she was already too quick with her words and too fast to notice things others might ignore.

“Alys is the one to instigate the duels in our household,” I replied after a moment, tearing my gaze away from my blushing son. Cassandra had brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and I was fighting the urge to charge down and pull her away. My son was nine and he certainly shouldn’t be prey for an older girl.

“Hah! Her husband will have his hands full one day,” chuckled Borros and I fought the urge to pull a face at that. “The Reyne boy too!”

“It rather sounds like Rolph Reyne has already seen the writing on the wall when it comes to young Princess Jocelyn,” said Elenda smoothly, as if she had sensed my discomfort with Borros’ statement. “And seeks to join her in her adventures, rather than stay at home and be mocked.”

Perhaps the matter hit too close to home for her. I was well aware of what some whispered behind Borros’ back about his relationship with her and how unseemly it was that she ruled him so completely. Never to his face though, he was free with his challenges in response and more than a few had died or been crippled as a consequence.

“I do not think it is so calculating,” I told them. “He seems genuinely happy to have a future wife that enjoys what he enjoys.”

“You should ensure she does not become too man-like,” said Borros and Elenda’s eyes flashed dangerously. He forged on, oblivious to both our ire at the statement. “Elenda is good at what I can not do and I am good at what she can not do.”

I paused and considered that even as Elenda’s annoyance melted away into a genuinely fond look.

“I understand the point,” I conceded as Elenda laid a hand on Borros’ forearm and he began to look ridiculously pleased with himself. “I assure you my children attend their lessons and take them seriously.”

“We have no doubt of that,” murmured Elenda, still gazing at her husband. “Your dedication to learning is well-known.”

I wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment… but it seemed Borros wasn’t done with his tangent as he met my eyes, frowning slightly.

“Targaryen women never make it easy to protect them,” he stated. “Father made me swear I’d stand by Rhaenys but what can I do that she can’t? Even an army could not match her on a dragon.”

There was annoyance in his tone and echoes of an old wound. Elenda’s fond look changed to something dangerously close to pity as she abandoned his arm in favour of taking his hand gently. He spared her a smile before frowning at the floor once more.

“I grant she might be regretting spurning such protection now,” I told him, trying to inject some cheer into my voice before clarifying when I met his confused eyes. “Given her leg.”

“I did offer her men to guard her. I told her the Dornish would strike when she was least protected! She did not listen to me! She chose to wander the camp without anyone to watch her back,” he groused in turn. Then, almost as if someone were dragging the words out of him, he continued. “Is she well?”

“Well enough,” I replied and he nodded. “Her leg has not truly pained her beyond minor attacks in a while.”

“That is excellent news,” said Elenda, nudging her husband, who was back to frowning. “It was always a trial to get her daughter to speak on the subject whilst she was with us.”

My smile became decidedly brittle at that.

“That is simply Laena,” I managed to say through my annoyance. That she had spent so long, so close by and had refused to even fly over for a visit had been annoying. Then again, she had believed herself barren at the time… and I had spent my own pregnancy doing nothing but complain, the Seven knew I’d made a complete horse’s arse out of myself with that particular behaviour. Besides, she had asked for permission to leave on that journey and I had granted it, I could not blame her for doing exactly what she told me she was going to do.

“She has yet to send us the promised copy of the runes she uncovered at Storm’s End as well,” stated Elenda. I sighed and resisted the urge to bring my hand up to my face. Likely she had forgotten and jumped straight into another project.

“I will speak with her,” I assured them and Elenda nodded, apparently satisfied on that point. “I admit I’m looking forward to seeing them in person.”

“We’ve had to block the tunnel off to all but the Maester and those he approves to avoid any inadvertent damage but I see no reason a tour could not be arranged.” She might have said more but it seemed Borros was back on more familiar conversational grounds and was eager to make a contribution.

“A tour of all of Storm’s End,” he promised, eyes shining. “You will fall in love with our castle, Your Grace! So much history! It’s never been taken and it never will be.”

Had it not fallen to Aegon VI during his invasion? Bah, that did not matter now. Aegon VI would never be born with any hope.

“Laena has praised it so highly that should it even be worthy of half that praise I could not fail to come to love it.” Half truth anyway. Laena had been impressed with the castle but it had been its magic she had waxed lyrical about, not anything else. Runes set into the foundation that eclipsed Runestone in complexity and utility - enough to begin a timeline of Brandon the Builder’s projects. Runestone had been an early project and Storm's End an ambitious later one, but the Wall was greater than them all in turn. She was desperate to try Winterfell once more with the hope that my ongoing letter exchange with Cregan would make him more open to a visitation.

“You are kind to say so,” said Elenda, smiling. It seemed genuine enough. Down on the beach, Maris’ loud and obviously fake laughter drew our attention momentarily. I did not miss the glare Cassandra was sending at her younger sister nor the way Ellyn had drawn back from the other two. Borros huffed in annoyance and Elnda elbowed him in the side. “Go, deal with them before they make a scene.”

I was somewhat surprised she would say such in front of me but then recalled how we’d even gotten onto the topic in the first place. Borros dropped a kiss to her temple and trudged off, his loud voice calling his daughters to attention. Elenda watched him go with that fond smile before turning to me, her eyes changing from warmth to calculating cold in an instance.

“The situation with Manfryd Swann can not be allowed to go on.” Blunt as her husband sometimes. I gave her a polite smile.

“I have done all I can to support Lord Caron but if he will not work with me, there is little I can do beyond voice support for him publicly,” I replied, feelings of annoyance with the whole situation rising in my breast once more. Elenda’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Is that so,” she purred and suddenly I felt sorry for her father. “I instructed him to fall in line with you long ago. I know we do not have the showing the Vale has but even he agreed it was prudent to present some visible support.”

Most people would not have been so… crass about it. I had a feeling Elenda had judged me better than most to know I would not be bothered by her approach. She knew as well as I did that our children’s marriage was a transaction - future power in return for their military might.

“I appreciate the gesture,” I replied politely. “Know that I have spoken on the matter many times to my father but Lord Swann is likely to keep agitating until he gets what he wants.”

Elenda snorted and raised her hand to her lips, as if she would dearly like to chew at her nails but resisted at the last moment, letting the hand drop again.

“What concerns me is that I do not know how many are… quietly sympathetic to him,” she finally admitted. “I fear they may join your brother simply because we have joined you.”

I laughed at that, earning myself a raised eyebrow and an incredulous look.

“They will be disappointed,” I told her, recalling Aegon’s opinions on the matter. That the vassals of great lords should be left to the great lords… and that the king should sit on his seat and bestir himself for nothing, even if those great lords begged him for aid when the throne’s policy of not getting involved backfired on them. When her expression didn’t change I elaborated. “Aegon… has different ideas as to what it is to be a ruler. He would send them back to Borros with a note that he should deal with the matter.”

“Curious that you should admit that to me. His style of rule would be very beneficial to us, after all.” The statement didn’t worry me. 

“At least until you faced rebellion or betrayals. At least until you needed the King’s Peace being enforced or relief sent after a season of heavy rains and raiding. He means to leave everything to the great lords. You would pay your tax and receive nothing in turn.”

“Point,” she conceded. “Still, I do desire dear old Manfryd to be sent on his way. It is beginning to cause me embarrassment.”

“I will speak with Ser Joffrey,” I assured her. “He may have some method in mind.”

“When you do, be sure to thank him for his little gift to me. I intend to use it to deal with our… mutual problem.” It took me a moment to recall what that could be and when I did, it was a struggle to keep the vicious smile from my face.

“Am I to plan a retirement announcement and feast for a member of the Small Council then?” I asked. “Or will it be an ignoble and quiet exit?”

“It entirely depends on the man,” she informed me, turning to stare across the beach as Borros lifted Ellyn onto his shoulders and her family, minus Orys, set off back towards us. My own son remained by Vermax, watching the dragon preen at all the attention it had been receiving. 

“Well, that certainly is a thorn from my side. You have my thanks.”


	185. Preparation - Chapter 158

“Might I ride with you tonight?” asked Alys as she lounged in the chair opposite my desk with a smile on her face. Her punishment duty was finally over and her evenings free once more, providing Laena didn’t crack down on her behaviour again.

“You know the rules,” I replied and she sighed, sitting up a little straighter. “Ask your aunt before you ask me.”

“You are the Princess of Dragonstone,” she said slyly. “You could overrule her.”

I waggled the end of the quill at her, not dignifying the attempt with a reply, and she slumped backwards with a groan. I bought my attention back to Ser Rogar’s usual haphazard budget report, ticking off a few more expenses and adding a few reminders to query some poorly labelled ones before Alys sighing again broke my concentration. She had flounced in here a few minutes ago, catching me finishing up after taking my meal at my desk, a bad habit, I know. I had made it clear I had an open office policy to my children, but normally it was Aemma that found her way in here, if only to read and enjoy the peace.

“Go and ask your aunt,” I repeated, then allowed my face to soften. “Tell her I am amenable to you joining us. Do not tell her I said you could or any variation of such, just that I like the idea.”

“Yes, mama,” she said, jumping to her feet and almost skipping around the desk to throw her arms about my shoulders. I laughed, letting her do so and dropping my quill to make it easier for her to wriggle close. Then she drew back with a smile and almost raced off. I leaned back in my chair and watched her go, feeling as if my heart might burst. She would not have been so… excitable before she conspired to ride Vermithor. A quiet girl given to playing with dolls inside, because to do any other was to exhaust herself or worse. Now, she seemed almost as active as Jocelyn some days.

Speaking of which. I peered out of the window at the setting sun before grimacing once more at Ser Rogar’s report and putting it aside. It could wait, and I had sworn I would keep up with Jocelyn’s lessons. Instead of mornings though, they now took place in the evening. Jocelyn had other commitments before her lessons began and they mainly took the form of Steffon’s brutal training. I stood and stretched, hearing my back and neck and crunch in a way I knew would have most wincing should they hear it, sighing in relief before making my way out of the door.

If Laena said yes to Alys’ request, and I doubted she’d say no unless Alys had done something especially irritating lately, it would cause no harm to call Jocelyn for her lesson early, as Alys was well aware of where to find us should she fall behind. Still, it was a leisurely walk that I took to the kitchens, finding the head cook overseeing the general cleaning up, but not finding Jocelyn. I did not even have to ask before the cook jerked her head to the servants door, open to let fresh air in and some of the heat out.

“Went off to ensure that infernal mutt is taken care of,” the cook told me. “Don’t worry, Y’Grace, I made sure she did her fair share of the cleaning.”

“Thank you,” I replied before pausing and examining the woman once more. She looked more haggard than usual and I had a feeling it was linked with her dispatching Jocelyn early. “And thank you for your patience with her.”

“Is my pleasure, Y’Grace,” she replied, smiling a little more genuinely and giving me a half bow. I bestowed one more royal smile on her and made a mental note to add a bonus to her pay for as long as Jocelyn was washing dishes. I slipped out of the door, half-terrifying two kitchen hands that had been hiding from their fearsome overlady and headed into the garden.

Only to be immediately ambushed by a black and tan puppy, yapping away at me as it dropped a considerably chewed up ball of rags at my feet. I stared at it for a moment and then sighed, thanking the Seven I at least wore gloves on a regular basis. At my actions, he spun around in excited circles and I smiled despite myself. He had grown quite a bit since Jocelyn has received him. Now approaching my mid-calf in height. Joffrey had informed us that the ‘breed’ was a popular one in Fleabottom, something that made me wince. Apparently, they were prized ratters, experts at hunting the vermin one might encounter in that part of King’s Landing. Thankfully, they grew no taller than knee height so there was some good news anyway.

Well, we hoped. We had no way of telling what other dogs were in Ronard’s ancestry...

As a resident of the manse, it seemed he was destined to chase only his ball instead of vermin and, I mentally corrected myself, occasionally Alysanne. The girl adored little Ronard, and oh how that name made me cringe. Naturally Jocelyn would find that particular Storm King… and tell me that it was because the dog had ‘uncertain parentage’, the name fit perfectly. When I pulled my arm back, he stopped his spinning and stared intently at it.

Almost lazily, I threw the ball into the main lawn, avoiding the prettier flowers the gardeners had cultivated. They already bore signs of being menaced by him. He was moving before the ball had even left my hand, racing off to catch it. I carried on, keeping an amused eye on him as the rags rolled under a hedge and he proceeded to attempt to dig his way through. 

Ah well, we employed gardeners for a reason. Still, if he were unattended it did beg the question of where Jocelyn had gotten too. She was supposed to be ensuring he got his exercise as part of her chores. If she’d skipped out on this then she had skipped out on her punishment. That made me frown and grit my teeth. Steffon had reported she was doing satisfactorily, almost well. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum or complained too much…

Annoyed, I realised I was striding through the garden instead of my peaceful walk. I stopped and my annoyance died, though, when I finally saw Jocelyn. She hadn’t skipped out on her chore after all. There she was, sat on the bench. I took a deep breath. I had judged too quickly, clearly. I approached, her name dying on my lips as unmistakable snoring reached me.

Annoyance and amusement warred within me momentarily and amusement won as she snorted a little in her sleep and slumped a little further down the bench. Ronard bound up having retrieved his rags and dropped them in front of his mistress before sitting on his haunches, tongue lolling out of his mouth. I pursed my lips to avoid the giggle that image called into existence. After a while, he shuffled backwards and whined and as if it came more from instinct Jocelyn’s leg sleepily kicked at his rags, sending the ball rolling a small way. Ronard whined again and I gave in, picking the ball up once more and hurling it away, sending him racing off with an excited bark once more. 

“Good boy,” mumbled Jocelyn, her eyes not even opening. I bit my lip. Now that I had decided not to be annoyed, the scene grew funnier the longer I watched. Ronard reappeared at my feet, having decided I was clearly the most fun to play with at this point. I wrestled the ball of rags from him and hurled it again. He disappeared once more and I took a deep breath, enjoying the cool evening air.

Perhaps I should take over ensuring Ronard was well cared for if it was always going to be this peaceful? I threw the ball for him a couple more times before Ronard seemed to have had enough. Instead of bringing his ball to me once more, he leapt onto the bench and pushed his head, slobber and all, into Jocelyn’s lap. She mumbled something and brought her hand up to rest it on his head but still her eyes didn’t open. Ronard watched me with round, dark eyes as if he could not understand why I was still here when he had clearly finished with his fun.

“Spoiled little thing,” I said to him, earning myself no reaction bar a tilted head. Amused, I turned to leave only to find Alys watching me with a grin on her face.

“You seemed to be having fun,” she said with faux innocence. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I’m sure,” I drawled in response and she grinned at me.

“Admit it,” she teased. “You like Ronard, mama, for all you complain about him.”

At the sound of his name I heard his tail begin wagging, smacking against the wood of the bench and sending Jocelyn squirming in her sleep once more. I turned and gave him a look to which he responded by letting his ball drop out of his mouth with a wet slap against the bench.

“I may be passingly fond of him,” I said, making a show of admitting the fact. “But don’t you go spreading that around, young lady.”

“I swear it,” she replied solemnly before stepping forwards to throw another hug around my midsection. I held her close for a while before letting go. She fixed me with an impish smile and I dropped a kiss to her forehead.

“I take it your good mood means you bring good news?” I asked, and her eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Aunt Laena is resting,” she replied. “And she said to tell you that I’m supposed to be watching Syrax’s acrobatics. She wants a report on them.”

“Slave driver,” I sighed and Alys nodded fervently in agreement.

“I wish she’d just let me ride for fun,” she groused, frustration evident. “Instead she insists on tests and quizzes every time I so much as look at Vermithor.”

“She does it because she wants you to be great at riding,” I told her. “Not merely good.”

Alys pouted and I raised my eyebrow at her. The pout became a look of pleading.

“She thinks I am responsible for every disaster ever,” she complained. “The equipment shed door is broken and she said it was because I slam it too hard!”

I opened my mouth to refute that but Alys carried on, her eyes blazing with indignation.

“She hates me, mama,” she said firmly. “And it wasn’t like Luke challenging those boys was even my fault, I didn’t dare him to. He did it by himself and it’s not my fault she was so angry about it.”

I remembered the incident clearly enough and fixed her with an unimpressed look.

“You may not have said the words dare,” I replied and she flushed. “But remember you admitted to goading him into it.”

“They insulted me,” she sniffed, as if that were an excuse.

“Then you should have found me or your father,” I told her firmly and she sighed in defeat a moment later. “Now, I am going back to my office and you are going to wake Jocelyn when I’m gone. Do not tell her I caught her napping, let her enjoy the victory.”

Alys’ look of defeat became a look of sly amusement and she nodded.

“I shall not tell her,” she assured me, shooting a speculative look at her sleeping twin before smiling once more. A fond smile.

“Then I shall be off,” I declared and left her there, grinning from ear to ear at the mischief I had come up with. I went back in via the servant’s entrance and told the cook to not mention I had been looking for Jocelyn to her. She seemed happy enough to, especially when I made mention of my plan to deliver her a bonus for putting up with my wayward daughter. Her eyes sparkled as she swore she’d keep silent on the whole matter before bustling off, humming happily to herself.

On my way back to my office, I peered out of the window to find Alys hadn’t woken her sister yet. She was scanning the manse looking for me though, and she caught my eye and raised her hand in a wave before bringing it down to shake at Jocelyn’s shoulder. Ronard evidently didn’t appreciate it as he leapt from the bench a moment later. It was with a guilty flash that I giggled out loud at what happened next. Jocelyn seemed fast asleep one second and wide awake the next, leaping from the bench in surprise and sending Ronard barking away.

Then she turned and spotted her sister, who was laughing to herself on the bench and reached to throw Ronard’s rags at her before freezing. I stepped back as she said something to Alys and her eyes swung to examine the manse as if she expected me to be stalking towards her in a rage. Or worse, Laenor or Steffon. I watched as Alysa waved her hand dismissively and Jocelyn seemed to relax in response to her words before rubbing at her face to banish any evidence of her illicit nap.

Smiling broadly, I continued to my office to await both of my daughter’s arrival for an evening lesson.


	186. Preparation - Chapter 160

“You should take the potion Gerardys-” Corlys began but Rhaenys waved him off with an annoyed sigh. Around us, the servants collected plates and cutlery in preparation for the next course. I was proud to see each of my children thanked them without prompting, even if Jocelyn was looking dismayed. She would be in the kitchen after this, helping clean up after dinner.

“I am fine,” Rhaenys growled in response to her husband’s worried hovering, wincing a moment later as she somehow jostled her leg once more. Corlys sat back in his chair, looking disgruntled, but said nothing. A lifetime with Rhaenys had likely taught him how stubborn she could be. My eyes drifted to Laenor and Laena, both were watching with worry in their eyes. It could not be easy to see her in pain and know that little could be done to prevent it… little that she would accept, anyway. It tore at me and I was not her daughter, for all that I might have wished for it.

“As stubborn as Lyonel at times,” sighed Corlys finally, seeming to give up. That sent a flicker of alarm through me. I had done as Corlys requested and had not taken action in regards to the Hand of the King as much as it bothered me. Now that I knew, it seemed obvious. The lateness to meetings, the sheen of sweat that seemed permanent and the dark bags under his eyes that spoke of too little sleep… 

Damn these stubborn people. 

“Has he taken a turn for the worse again?” I asked, trying to hide my worry by sipping at my wine. It was a testament to my preoccupation that it took me a few swallows to realise it was one of my favourites. Corlys sighed as if the very question was painful.

“Not sleeping mostly,” he stated. “And the damnable cough that refuses to shift.”

“Have you offered the College’s services once more? Because I am pos-” I dared not ask him myself. Our mutual frustration would lead only to an argument. 

“I have, at every opportunity. Do not mistake the lack of action for lack of trying. He is my friend and a good one at that,” he stated, shaking his head before his gaze found his wife once more. Rhaenys had taken Corlys’ distraction as an avenue of escape and had taken Viserys onto her lap. My son seemed happy enough, legs and arms flailing about wildly as she tickled his belly again and again regardless of his wriggles. I watched as Corlys transformed from worried old man to doting grandfather and husband as the worries of the world seemed to drop away from his shoulders and decided to let the matter drop.

This was supposed to be a nice and quiet family dinner - as much as we were capable of being quiet. I cast my eyes about the table as Jocelyn seemed to doze once more in place with only frequent none too gentle nudges from Alys keeping her truly awake. Not that I was sure how she could doze with Aemma and Rhaena next to her, each talking breathlessly about some new tale they had found - their debate including much hand-waving and requiring frequent intervention from Joffrey to prevent them from becoming too loud.

Not that Joffrey could spare them much attention currently. His gaze was on Luke and Aemon as each seemed to appeal to him as a judge for their debate on whose dragon was better.

“But Vermax is beautiful!” protested Aemon, as if Joffrey were the final arbiter of dragon quality.

“And mine is quick and sneaky. Tell him, papa!” Joffrey met my eyes with a desperate stare and I shrugged. Skywalker was a fine dragon but I had a feeling Vermax was the superior mount… at least for now. Unless it was a match of thievery, then Skywalker would undoubtedly win. I had seen the dragon sneak food from Morrigan, which given the aggression of my daughter’s mount was a feat indeed.

“Perhaps a race,” I suggested when Joffrey continued to look flummoxed. The poor man did not quite manage our reverence for dragons, viewing them as resources over… well, partners, I suppose would be the best word.

“But I don’t have a teacher yet,” protested Aemon, his eyes flicking about the room. I pursed my lips at the thought. It was true that the matter had not come up yet. Aemon had not approached any of us with the request, so I had assumed he was still thinking the matter over. It was not unusual for him to take time on making what he saw as important decisions.

“You have not picked one,” groused Luke, a note of accusation finding its way into his voice. Aemon shoved him in response and Joffrey gave them both a warning look, beating me to punch by a few moments. Both boys blushed and mumbled their apologies under our stern gazes.

“My mornings are free once more,” I stated, half hoping he would say no. Aemon bit his lip before his eyes slid from me to Laenor and then to Laena.

“I’m to be your cupbearer soon enough, mama,” he said, causing my eyebrows to rise. It was true Laenor and I had discussed it but no decision had been made as we danced between offering him to my father or keeping him as close as possible. “And papa is teaching me how to fight.”

His eyes remained on Laena who straightened in her chair with a smile. In the corner of my eye, I saw Corlys roll his eyes and Rhaenys elbow him before directing him a stern look.

“Can you handle three students?” asked Alys, attracting our attention momentarily. I tensed without meaning too. Luke being Laena’s student had never been said aloud… Rhaenys had taught him the basics during Laena’s absence and him gravitating back to his mother had never been made truly official. “Because if not, grandmama Rhaenys doesn’t have a stud-”

“Punishment,” I said shortly, cutting that particular thought off, more terse than I should have been as my eyes flickered nervously between Rhaenys and Laena. Alys groaned and Laena shot her a look that promised retribution for the comment although I could see the tension in her from how she held her shoulders and the way she carefully did not look at Rhaenys when she spoke next, instead focusing on Aemon once more. I wasn’t sure if she missed Alys’ overly fake and overly bright smile but I didn’t and my daughter stopped when she caught my eye.

“I can handle three students easily,” Laena finally said. Aemon’s smile brightened in response and my eyes travelled to Rhaenys again. She gave me a little smile when she noticed and I felt heat rush to my face at being caught.

“Alas, it seems none of my grandchildren are destined to choose me,” Rhaenys butted in, obviously false grief suffusing her tone. Then she lifted Viserys up with a grin once more as he kicked out happily. “Perhaps little Viserys will have me?”

I let out a breath of relief.

“Or Rhaena, when she finally claims her mount,” said Laena, gazing fondly at her daughter. Rhaena went red and seemed to sink in her seat momentarily, muttering something about waiting.

“You need not feel pressured,” said Corlys, his tone one I couldn’t quite recognise. “Nobody is forcing you to take a dragon. It is a great commitment and responsibility.”

I watched as Laena’s face changed from fond to furious in an instant but so did Rhaenys and her mother was quick to intervene.

“Still!” she said brightly and Laena’s mouth snapped closed. Under the table, I let my foot brush over her shin and she directed a small smile my way. “A race does sound fun and is fine opportunity to practise some of the more basic skills a rider needs to master.”

“Well said,” Laenor decided. “Perhaps we should have a grand race then. All of us riders?”

“Really?” said Alys, eyes shining. I knew she was eager to push Vermithor to his limits and Laena could hardly say no if we were all involved.

“Yes! Dreamfyre will win! She’s the fastest-” Aemma started but Luke practically bellowed over her.

“Skywalker is getting faster! You’ll see, we’ll win!”

“Luke! Indoor voice!” snapped Laena and he settled back, blushing. Laenor smiled fondly before directing his gaze to Jocelyn, who had fallen asleep in her chair without Alys’ timely nudges. He frowned then shook his head as Alys went to nudge her awake.

“A race then,” I decided. “Should we invite my brothers and sisters?”

“Yes,” said Laena firmly, surprising us all. “I want to see how Aemond is coming along.”

“And Daeron,” supplied Aemon, smiling widely. “I want to beat him!”

“I do too! He’s always boasting about how good his dragon is just because she grows fast,” supplied Luke. “Size isn’t everything.”

I silenced Laenor’s quiet laugh with a stern look but he was still grinning broadly when I looked away from him. Even Joffrey and Corlys were hiding smiles and the less said about the expression on Rhaenys’ face the better. At least Laena was not snickering like-

“Indeed,” said Laena, her expression stoic. “It’s what you do with it that matters.”

Children, all of them! She gave me an apologetic grin as I rolled my eyes and sipped at my wine in disgust.

“Yeah!” said Luke, the entire exchange missing him entirely. “Besides, Vermax is bigger than Tessarion and twice as beautiful!”

“Thank you,” said Aemon, preening in a way not unlike his dragon. “Uncle Joff, have I shown you my drawings?”

“You have,” Joffrey said, chuckling. He turned to his grandparents, who made a show of having not seen said drawings. Neither had I, come to think of it. That brought a frown to my face as Laenor exclaimed to Corlys and Rhaenys how the detailing on one particular picture was exquisite. Normally, I would be one of the first Aemon would show his drawings and paintings to… had he picked up on my dislike to the degree he was holding back now? Guilt poked at me.

“You have not shown me either,” I pointed out during a break in the conversation and Aemon seemed to freeze for a second before smiling brightly.

“I’m sorry, mama, I forgot to show them to you,” he lied, not very convincingly. I bit my lip. So he had seen my dislike of the dragon. Poor boy… I would speak with him on the matter when I could.

“Thank you. You know I enjoy your art very much.” He beamed at me in response before turning back to Corlys and talking about getting the shading just right on one of his pictures of Vermax. I half suspected my promised picture of Syrax was an age off. My son was likely to draw a hundred pictures of his new mount and paint half a hundred portraits again before he finally got it out of his system.

The matter was put to an end though when Viserys finally became overly bored of Rhaenys’ teasing and somehow managed to kick a glass of wine down her front and all across the table too for good measure. Servants rushed forwards to clean it as Viserys was handed to his grandfather.

“Tell the cook to delay the next course for a few minutes if possible, would you?” The servant I had spoken to nodded and bowed before rushing off to attend to that. Rhaenys disappeared to change and Septa Leyla was summoned to retrieve the little menace and keep him occupied. The ensuing ruckus at least woke up Jocelyn, who was finding the matter of the wine very funny and bestowed more than a few kisses on her baby brother before he was released from his siblings' goodbyes. My children adored their newest brother. They adored the trouble he could cause on occasion even more.

The children were still laughing and chuckling on the matter when Rhaenys returned and our next course was brought out, filling the room with heavenly smells of meat, vegetables and the various seasonings our cook had employed. There were many benefits to being the gooddaughter of the Sea Snake, and easy access to spices many would pay eye watering sums for was definitely up there, I reflected as I dug in. The rest did not hesitate either and our general chatter fell into appreciative silence as our mouths became occupied by something other than talking.

I got halfway through the plate and had paused to help myself to some beautifully toasted bread when another servant arrived and bowed low, seemingly worried about interrupting our meal.

“Your Grace,” he began. “My apologies at disturbing you, but Prince Aegon is downstairs awaiting you.”

I frowned, almost in sync with the rest of the table. Glances between each of us as we tried to figure out what Aegon might want. He had been oddly absent since our return from Dragonstone and I had hoped it was because father’s offer had him distracted. Why would he show up unannounced now? I forced a smile onto my face.

“Invite him up then. There should be enough spare to give him a plate.” This did little to reassure the servant, who seemed to look even more nervous at the offer. That set butterflies loose in my stomach. “What is wrong, my good man? Speak freely, you’ll face no punishment.”

The man cleared his throat. “Your Grace, your brother is in no fit state to attend a polite meal.”

I blinked at the statement as worry set in a little more. No fit state… Did he mean drunk? Aegon was rarely drunk… I stood and directed a strained smile at the table. I did not miss the looks of curiosity mingled with worry and disappointment and my heart clenched in response.

“I will attend to my brother and see what ails him. Do not worry, I shall return in time for desert!” My false cheer did little to change things and I left quickly after that, worry giving way to annoyance.

“How drunk is he?” I asked the servant who was leading me to where my brother awaited. He gave me a pained look before hesitating and then forging on.

“The prince seems to be having some trouble remaining upright.” Oh bollocks. If he was riled and drunk, this would no doubt be _fun._


	187. Preparation - Chapter 161

“For the Seven’s sake, Aegon!” I barked when I finally saw him. “Sit down before you fall down!”

He was in a state, I could see that as I examined him. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes were rumpled and he looked seconds away from staggering over - as if the mere effort of keeping himself upright was too much. At my command, his face twisted into a frown and fixed me with an imperious look, the one he’d gotten oh so good at. At least when he was like this he did not resemble father as much.

“I can shtand,” he told me, words at odds with the evidence presented. The fact that he was slurring his speech as well did not reassure me. Annoyed, I dropped into one of the couches and made myself comfortable, fixing him with a look to match his own. He stood and stared for a moment, as if processing this new development and then sat down himself. The couch groaned in protest as he crashed into it, only further fanning the flames of my annoyance.

Best keep a check on my temper. I could not lose it and scream at Aegon, no matter how much he might richly deserve it and how much I might want to at times like these. Aegon needed to see me as his saintly older sister for as long as possible and if that meant swallowing his disrespect to earn hesitation and maybe (I shuddered mentally) mercy later down the line, then I would gladly do so. If not for me, then for my children, if... I should fall.

“You seem ill at ease, brother,” I began as he seemed to struggle with his own words. “Might I order you some water or juice? To clear your head?”

Or a bucket, should you decide to spill the contents of your stomach over Corlys’ exquisite Myrish carpets.

“No,” he slurred. “No, I require nothing from you.”

The words were almost spat out and I gritted my teeth. He had never been so rude before. Was this how he always felt, and even his so-called positive feelings for me were a mask he wore? No. No, I could not believe that. I knew he thought well of me. No one could act that well for that long. Caution ran through me then, and I decided to act as if it were Jocelyn having a tantrum, as opposed to facing such hostility from the brother that may very well kill me, arranging my features into an unimpressed glare with one eyebrow raised.

“Aegon.” My tone carried the same warning as it would with Jocelyn as well and I mentally cursed the approach a moment later. I was his sister, not his mother. Acting like a mother invited comparisons with Alicent and I knew they were still arguing bitterly. Aegon’s snake hunt, whilst amusing enough to hear about, was not going well for him. He was frustrated with his mother for employing Larys and still bearing a grudge over her behaviour around Rhaekar the day he was born. A foolish approach… Why was it always so hard to figure out the best way to handle my brother?

“You-” He started, confirming my fears before stopping and taking a deep breath. There was a sheen of sweat lining his forehead and I dearly hoped he was not so drunk he vomited. “Rhaenyra, have you spoken to father?”

“Regarding what, exactly? He came by to see Vermax and praise my son but beyond that we have had little chance. He has been increasingly busy of late.” Suspiciously so, and he’d taken steps to hide whatever he was working on from Joffrey. Worrying. With any luck, it would not be another ‘surprise’ that ended up being more trouble than it was worth. Aegon stared at me and then the wall, his jaw clenched tight as he took a deep breath himself.

“The praise is deserved,” he told me abruptly. “The mount is a fine one.”

My eyebrows rose again at the change of topic. At my look he pursed his lips and looked away once more, as if he could not bring himself to look at me properly.

“I mean it,” he said, sounding as if he meant anything but. “It is beautiful.”

“Fit for a King, father said.” I was rubbing it in, I knew. He reacted as if I had gone to slap him, flinching before taking in a deep breath and letting it out.

“Father has offered me land,” he said simply. Ah… so father had dug something appropriate up for him. 

“I know. It was my idea.” At that, his jaw clenched again, sending the muscle jumping. “You need something to raise a family with, Aegon, instead of begging for scraps from my table.”

“It is an insult!” he growled. Unsurprising, I thought, controlling my urge to snap at him.

“Were the lands so poor?” I asked, letting false innocence suffuse my tone and watching as it seemed to fan the flames of his own anger. It was a bad idea, a very bad idea but… His fists clenched on his knees and I realised I had never seen him this angry before, not really. He always went so far to be seen as calm and in command. The perfect knight. The perfect prince. The perfect king.

Bastard.

“He offered me Oldstones,” he breathed through clenched teeth and I let out a surprised whistle even as Aegon’s eyes blazed at the perceived affront.

“That is no small gift, Aegon,” I pointed out. Perhaps I should be glad he seemed set on spurning the gift, even as princely as it was. If Aegon had forces there he could deal with my Northern allies and the Freys to boot with ease. “Rich farmlands, a keep you can rebuild and make your own, a prestigious history, and set near the coast and the Blue Fork too for good trading opp-”

“I DO NOT CARE!” he roared and I flinched. The only sound after was his heavy breathing as his chest rose and fell - as if his body could not contain the anger. I could sympathise with him, I had felt it enough in the past. The need to let something out otherwise you felt as you might burst completely from the pressure of it welling up inside you. I set my jaw and met his eyes.

“You will not shout at me in my own home,” I told him, voice like ice. I may sympathise but I had my line in the sand and this was it. “And what does Helaena think of this?”

His bit his lip, fury replaced with a flash of guilt before he turned away again, refusing to meet my eyes.

“She wanted to take father’s offer, didn’t she?” I accused and I watched his fists ball up in anger.

“Helaena is being stubborn-”

“She wanted her son to have something to call his own! How will you explain this to Rhaekar when he is grown?” I demanded.

“I should be Prince of Dragonstone,” he whispered. “You have stolen everything that is mine.”

“It was never yours to begin with,” I told him firmly, rising to my feet. He followed me up as if his height could intimidate me. I may be short, but everyone was tiny next to Laenor and Laena.

“It was,” he growled. “I am father’s eldest son! It is mine by right! By law!”

“The King’s Word is law,” I shot back. “Our King decreed me his heir and thus I am his heir.”

“It’s not right,” he whined. “It’s not! You said so yourself to father when I was born. Don’t deny it! He told me!”

“I wanted to keep my friend and not tear this continent apart. You do not und-”

“You want the Throne!” he half-screamed. “You want it and you pretend you don’t! You pretend it is some burden father thrust upon you but you want it!”

I opened my mouth to answer that but he forged on, clearly more intent on letting out his frustration than actually addressing me.

“You stole what was mine and you don’t even feel guilty! I thought-” He paused then and I was surprised to see tears spring to his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want it but you do…”

“How is that my fault?” I asked him tartly. “You decided I did not want it to make yourself feel better about wanting it. About ousting me from a position I have held since before your birth. That I have trained my entire life to do!”

“That’s not-” He began but he had crossed a line and I was aware I was dancing dangerously close to my own, to saying something that could not be taken back.

“It is!” I insisted and he fell silent, glaring at me. “Admit it. If you thought that your own little plot for a Council would see me elected, you wouldn’t pursue it. You are only so intent on it because you believe you will win as father beat Rhaenys before!”

He stared at me for a moment before taking yet another deep breath but I was not done. My finger jabbed at his chest making him sway backwards.

“You are a spoilt child,” I told him. “You grasp for what is not yours, for what was never yours… and why? Because you want it! You dress it up in law and honour but you are just as guilty of ambition as I am, brother! Except whilst I have done everything to prove I am worthy of such a seat and honour, all you do is chew on these ‘wrongs’ supposedly done to you and trumpet your own superiority based on the fact you were born a man! A cock does not a ruler make, Aegon!” 

When he spoke, his tone was that of a man taking the high road when he was right but could not convince his opposition of that, which only made me want to strangle him.

“You are correct that I have acted badly,” he said, and I briefly gave a thought to slapping him properly. My fingers throbbed at the thought. “And you are correct in that the throne is not mine either. It is for the lords to decide who will rule them in this disputed succession.”

“There will be no Council,” I told him. “Not under father and not under me. Do you plan to rebel then? Raise your banners up? The way you’re going, you will be forced to by somebody before the end.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “I would not-”

“You and your mother court every man with something to gain!” I barked, barely smothering a disbelieving laugh. “They will force the issue if you will not. What then? Our family will be torn apart! Destroyed! Would you step over my body for that throne? Over Aemon’s and Viserys’? My daughters-”

“No!” he cried. “You are…. You are getting too emotional about this! There will be no war!”

“And no Council!” I told him again sternly. It had never taken so much effort to not beat him over the head in a rage.

“There will be,” he said, eyes blazing. “Even your own Blacks whisper about wanting one. They and I will call for one before the end. I will have my day before the lords as you will have yours.”

“You are arrogant, Aegon. They will eat you alive-”

“Mother says the same thing,” he declared as if it were some grand trump card. “I say I intend to continue Aegon the Conqueror’s legacy. Under Maegor and even Jaehaerys we clawed too much power for ourselves. It was not our forebear’s vision.”

“And how would you know the mind of the Conqueror?” I scoffed. “The Lannisters fed you a pretty lie because it suited them. If you give the lords the power of petty kings they will seek to overthrow us once more.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly.

“I can forge this realm into something greater than even Jaehaerys dared dream,” I snarled. “Institutions to bind the realms to us forever! You would see them shatter once more. A mere puppet of the true kings!”

“IT IS NOT TRUE!” he shouted, his eyes meeting mine. There was a wild look in them and I wasn’t sure what had prompted it. In the silence, we both panted from the force of our anger. When he spoke again, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself over me. “It’s not. I… we have dragons. We could never be overthrown.”

I took a deep breath and reined my temper in as well as I could, reaching up to run my hand through my hair. Aegon too seemed to be fighting himself. We didn’t speak for a long time after that.

“Be wary, brother,” I finally said. “The road to the Seven Hells is paved with good intentions.”

I watched as he frowned at that, seemingly trying to make out what I was saying to him and I reminded myself that he was still drunk. Then, whether he understood my words or not he seemed to come to some sort of decision. Nodding to himself, he turned to me with a determined slant to his mouth.

“I am not my mother’s son, Rhaenyra,” he said, striding for the door. “I don’t sneak around and play dishonourable games. I am my father’s son. I am Aegon, son of Viserys. I won’t rise up against my family, just as father wouldn’t had Rhaenys taken the throne.”

He paused as he went to step out and then turned back. I raised my eyebrow. I might have been more offended but I knew Aegon well enough. He had to have the last word, if only to convince himself that he had not lost the argument. If I spoke now, I’d just draw him into a new argument. So I waited for whatever line he thought was witty enough to ‘win’ him the day.

“You should do well to remember your own words, sister,” he told me, sounding like father when he was in stern lecture mode. “The road to the Seven Hells is paved with good intentions.”

I did not pursue him to deliver him a richly deserved slap but by the Seven it was a close thing indeed.


	188. Preparation - Chapter 162

The Grand Master of the Alchemists died in his sleep after a long and debilitating illness. It should not have come as a surprise, the man had been dancing the line of death for a long, long time and the gods knew Jerrett had been bouncing between Dragonstone and King’s Landing for long enough as he politicked for the man’s place. I had never cared for Jowen, he had been headstrong and stubborn. I was not sure when he became embittered against me and Jerrett’s little breakaway faction, perhaps he always had been and I had just missed it. In my last meeting with him, shortly after the College had been established and Jerrett had managed to start a scuffle with the rest of the Guild, he’d called me a fair few names and implied that women were incapable of the higher arts through virtue of womanhood alone before storming out of my office and indeed, storming off of Dragonstone itself.

His chosen candidate disappearing off the face of the earth had not helped either. Jowen had invested much in Gregor, alongside the help Mysaria had provided the wretch. The Grand Master’s health had even rallied briefly, as he commanded an entire faction of hardliners in their bid to see Gregor elected from his sickbed. When Gregor had… disappeared without a trace once more, Jowen’s health had gone from bad to worse and any talk of him beating his illness was silenced. Not that recovery was a likely outcome to begin with, perhaps Gerardys could have helped, but Jowen had refused every offer of aid. Now he was dead. He had died in despair and in pain, his precious Wisdoms unable to even give him a peaceful death.

“I must thank you for your support once more,” said Jerrett, sipping from the wine a servant had poured for us before scuttling off to leave us to discuss Jerret’s next steps alone. I gave him a benevolent smile. The man had aged well in a way I was almost jealous of. His hair was silver now but his grey eyes were as lively and intelligent as ever and his frame had lost no vigour over the past decade.

That he was the next Grand Master was a sure thing. After Gregor’s death, the powerful factions that had united behind him had fragmented into bickering groups with no one clear candidate emerging from them. Jerrett would storm to victory simply because those that opposed him were far too divided. 

“You have built your own legacy, Jerrett, all I gave you was the chance,” I told him, tone modest. He gave me a sly grin.

“I will not deny I put work in,” he said diplomatically. “But Gregor was a problem I am happy to see the back of. He had too much support thanks to Jowen’s incessant interfering.”

“He has a history of mysterious disappearances,” I replied just as diplomatically and Jerrett nodded, his sly smile still in place. I stamped down on the flicker of annoyance that it brought. “Perhaps he has simply returned to whomever was paying him his bribe money?”

“Seems a waste to me, to pay a man so much then recall him,” said Jerrett. “Fear not, I understand the situation. I am merely appreciative of your support.”

He will never believe I did not get rid of Gregor for him. What harm was there in letting him believe, the traitorous little voice in my mind whispered. The action benefited you all, why not let it benefit my cause with him further? Jerrett had been loyal to me from the moment I had presented him with the ‘book’ all those years on Dragonstone, but the College and now this would see him and his cause bound entirely to mine.

I directed a small smile at him and sipped at my wine once more. Having the Alchemists be mine in truth would be a boon. It would add more prestige to the college, for a start, and I could use them to present a united front against Edmund’s desperate scrabbling to claw back the influence the Maesters were losing.

“Regardless, Your Grace, I am your man.” I paused in my sip and met his eyes. They were serious at that moment. “Fear not, I will not forget my patron when I take up my new mantle.”

“I am glad to hear it,” I replied earnestly. “Who will be taking up your duties at the College?”

“Humph, I spent a good while trying to persuade that old stick in mud to shift from Dean of Medicine but he’s made himself comfortable there and won’t move.” I suppressed a smile at that. Gerardys had found the idea of focusing on medicine and healing alone freeing, it would take a team of aurochs to drag him away from that. “So I’ve decided on Wisdom Beron.”

It took me a moment to recall the name.

“Ah,” I said with a smile when I connected a face to it as well. “The man who cracked glass.”

“Hopefully not literally!” laughed Jerrett and I forced a smile at the not too funny joke as the man chuckled away to himself. When he was done, I raised my cup of wine in a toast.

“To the new High Wisdom then. To Beron!” Jerrett echoed me, our goblets clunking together. Once I had taken a great swallow, I lowered the goblet once more. “Tell me, have we any great news from the College?”

“Things are the same as they always are,” said Jerrett before frowning. “Although I suspect Beron’s first task will be to tighten belts over there.”

“Oh?” I asked, surprise making my eyes widen. “Are the experiments becoming so expensive?”

“Not at all!” said Jerrett. “In fact, costs are going down.”

“Then what is the issue?” I asked. He sighed.

“The glass,” he replied simply. “We’ve been producing at full capacity since you got that girl running the seaweed farms and Westeros has bought and bought and bought from us.”

“I have seen the reports,” I told him. Corlys had been full of glee over the income the exported glass had brought him, in fact he’d been close to outright crowing with delight. The Velaryon money Laenor had poured into the initial experiments and the College had been paid back sevenfold and promised continuing returns for a long, long time. 

“Well, anyone who wants the glass has it now. We’ve been making our way through those huge, expensive orders and we’ll soon be left with the more modest ones.” I frowned in thought and finished my wine.

“I thought the North had just begun ordering?” I asked. Cregan had indicated as much in his letters to me. Perhaps he was no longer handing out Winterfell’s money to fund the buying, but he’d certainly sworn he’d encouraged his lords to begin purchasing glass.

“Oh yes, they have, but not nearly as much as the South. They’re a cautious bunch, that lot.” Well, I could not deny that. “Still, the Northern markets will provide a good income. We’re in no danger of bankruptcy!”

“Well,” I said, worry still pulling at my gut, “… that is reassuring news.”

“Ah! We finally have a batch of Lord Corlys’ rice growing!” said Jerrett cheerfully, as if he had sensed my mood changing and was trying to wrangle me back to a better one. “I’ll grant it’s not popular yet, but then again, new things never are. Even in the Seven Kingdoms new centre of learning!”

“Have a batch sent to me, I shall make a show of enjoying it publicly. Half the Lords in the realm are like to order from you then,” I chuckled. Some half memory wriggled at the back of my head, amusing me even more that I should influence so many into trying something new. I wasn’t sure why it was funny though. Memories of my past life… they grew duller and further away with every year. Not the important things though. My mother’s face was still etched into my memory, her features as vivid as Aemma Arryn’s. The same for my sisters’ and nephew’s - like my children and my family here, I doubted I’d ever truly forget them.

How they would have found me married with children amusing. I swallowed that thought. Those were thoughts more fitting for the dead of night than a bright day of celebration.

“Have you selected Wisdoms to work with Laena?” I asked, searching for any topic to banish the sudden surge of emotion. Jerrett shifted in his seat, a smile fighting to break out across his face.

“I have a few talented boys who are eager to start soon enough,” he boasted and I winced.

“They’re not being sent to encourage her,” I warned and Jerrett shrugged. “They’re being sent to ensure there are no more… perversions like her little trick with the egg.”

“Failure is simply part of learning, Your Grace! I’ll grant she has a haphazard way of exploring the subject, not quite in line with our scientific approach at all, but she has talent-” I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

“No more. Did you not tell me yourself that the Guild shies away from such magic?” Jerret sighed at the accusation.

“Yes, we do.” His hand came up to stroke at his chin. “I’ll make sure Hugh or Gawen look in on them regularly and I’ll make sure they’re all reminded of our tenets thoroughly before I send them over. My apologies for allowing my eagerness on the subject to override good sense.”

“As long it does not become a regular occurrence.” I felt like something of a grump as he nodded along, eyes still thoughtful. 

“You have my word,” he said solemnly. “I must admit, I have half a mind to induct her into the Guild. Why not a female alchemist if we are to have our first Queen?”

That sent a flicker of alarm through me. It would all but confirm the whispers about her and I knew they already bothered her more than she liked to admit. Not to mention Corlys’ reaction… he already did not trust her now. If she openly confirmed what she was and openly threw what she intended to do with her life in his face. I did not know how he would respond. I was about to open my mouth to dissuade him when he forged on, oblivious to my panic.

“Alas, it seems not to be. I made mention of it to her and she made it clear it was not for her.” That made me pause.

“Did she give a reason why?” I asked, tone slightly weak. If Jerrett noticed, he said nothing.

“She made it quite clear dragons were her interest and not magic, despite the considerable overlap between the two subjects. The magic is merely to better understand them. I assure you, she does not spend all day in the lab of hers.” This was not news to me. She worked closely with the watchers, documenting the wild dragon behaviour as well as trekking over the Dragonmont itself for things successive generations of Targaryens may have missed or simply taken for granted. “Of course, I had to promise my boys they wouldn’t be working in the field with her. I certainly couldn’t see any of them interviewing sheepherders for one thing. Fine boys, but lacking in-”

“Sorry,” I said sharply, causing his eyebrows to rise. “Did you say she’s been interviewing sheepherders?”

“Of course! It’s only natural she should. They’re the ones that are closest to the Dragonmont. Bar your watchers, of course, but even your men fear to get as close as they do on a regular basis.” Oh Laena… no wonder rumour had spread fast on Dragonstone about her projects. A sheepherder would be eager to spread the gossip of someone who might as well be a princess marching around the Dragonmont and asking mere commoners about dragons and what they had seen.

“Thank you for the clarification,” I said, feeling the start of a headache. 

“It is not the issue you think it is,” insisted Jerrett, sending my eyes flying to his face in surprise. At my expression, he clarified. “Lady Laena is hardly reviled on Dragonstone. She’s known to be close to you and people like that she is unafraid to walk among them and share a drink and a tale.”

Well, that was comforting at least. I settled back into my chair and reached for more wine, pouring some for Jerrett too.

“Tell me, Princess, for I have heard rumours and I’m dying to know…” I took a sip and waited for him to continue. “… what is this I hear about your brother ending up naked in the rooms of Lady Strong?”

I couldn’t help it. I lost it and nearly spilled the wine down my dress as I struggled to keep myself from collapsing from the chair entirely with the force of my giggles. If Larys’ definitive response to Aegon’s little snake hunt didn’t utterly dissuade my brothers from continuing it, I would be surprised. At the very least, Aegon would learn to be more careful about where his drinks came from in future, especially if he were lurking about some dingy bar in Fleabottom in the vain hopes some man of the spymaster’s would magically turn his cloak and tell him everything. The fact that Aegon had even fallen for that trick spoke volumes as to his naivety.

At least Larys’ response hadn’t been lethal and the only casualty was Maris’ eyes and the fact she’d probably be seeing a naked Aegon in her nightmares. Oh, and Aegon’s dignity. I couldn’t summon sympathy for him right now. I really couldn’t, even if he had been on the verge of accusing Larys of being responsible in open Court until father had all but threatened him into not doing so.

“Well, you see, my brother has been playing spies…”


	189. Preparation - Chapter 163

Unscheduled Small Council meetings never boded well. It always filled my stomach with a pit of dread whenever a messenger in Targaryen heraldry arrived at the Manse to inform me that the Council would be in special session within the hour. Father never called them unless something had gone drastically wrong somewhere and I could count on my fingers how many times he’d called one in recent memory. This would be the seventh since the Dornish Conquest.

“I can not think what the issue could be,” mused Corlys as we made our way to the Keep proper.

“Well, whatever it is, it wasn’t planned. That makes me very nervous.” Corlys snorted and our conversation was interrupted momentarily as we both dismounted, handing our reins to waiting grooms.

“Running a kingdom is never a smooth thing, Rhaenyra. There will be dozens more unplanned meetings before you rise to the Throne and hundreds after as well.” He was smiling when he said it and I took it for the lighthearted ribbing it was. 

“Well, at least I shall have myself a talented Hand to keep things working as smoothly as possible,” I told him, unable to hide my smile when his eyebrows rose.

“I’m not so sure,” he said, amusement on his features in turn. “I’ve heard he’s quite a rogue. Not the respectable sort at all.”

“Only if you ask his wife,” I shot back and he guffawed.

“Too true,” he admitted. “Still, I am honoured you think me such an obvious pick.”

“And why not?” I asked. “You have experience, you are well loved and you are my second greatest ally.”

“We have had our differences, Rhaenyra. I feared you’d go for someone more-”

“Sycophantic?” I said archly and he shrugged.

“I suspected you might eye up Joffrey for the role, in truth,” he confessed in a low voice after we passed a gaggle of servants. I took it as a good sign none of them were rushing to and fro in a panic. That everyone seemed to be going about their normal business meant that there was not some massive impending disaster or sudden death. Not in the Red Keep, anyway.

“Joffrey is an able spymaster,” I told him. “Very able. I suspect that’s the problem. He himself admits there are… unsavoury rumours abound.”

Corlys shrugged in response.

“Half of those are Larys Strong’s whispers but I see the point. The Master of Whisperers is a good role for him. Second son who gave his name away, crippled during a tourney by a disgraced Kingsguard-”

“Not so disgraced these days,” I observed, and his mouth quirked into a quick smile.

“Yes, I’ve read Joffrey’s reports on the matter. A model ranger, they say,” he replied. “Laena said as much when she met him. Do you know, I never thought to ask what caused the rift between you two to begin with?”

“He asked something of me that I could not give,” I replied, remembering his desperation and grief. That had turned to anger when I’d been less than diplomatic in my rejection… to this day I still ask myself how I could have been so blind to his feelings and true nature. It was foolish. Corlys and I were the last to the chamber and the worry in my gut returned when I saw the grim face father was pulling. I took my seat beside him and laid a gentle hand over his. He spared me a strained smile before turning back to his assembled advisers.

“Now that we’re all here,” he said once Corlys had made himself comfortable. “I must ask you why you called such a meeting, Lyonel?”

Corlys’ head whipped towards his friend with a speed I suspected might cause him no small amount of pain later on. Lyonel merely nodded, his face grave as he stood. Further down and across from him, Larys’ face was a serene mask that gave nothing away.

“My apologies to my fellow Councillors,” he began. “To those I call friends and to my son, but I have not been entirely truthful with you all these past few months.”

I felt father flinch then, heard his little hiss of indrawn breath and I couldn’t stop myself from turning to him in confusion. He met my eyes and flushed, guilt written large across his face, before turning back to where Lyonel stood. Corlys himself looked as if someone had just punched him in the gut and Larys… Larys wore that same serene mask, looking as calm and composed as he always did.

“I have been ill. I had hoped that my recovery would be swift and that it would not impact my duties,” he explained and realisation smacked me upside the head and I felt my own face drain of blood. “However, this has not come to pass.”

Why was he doing this now, before the entire Council? Why not inform father in private? Why drag all of this out in a semi-public setting… Was it my accusations against his son? It seemed hard to believe this show was for my benefit alone, and even if it was, I was completely unsure as to what I was supposed to take from it? I knew Larys was playing his own game and part of that game involved backing Alicent’s Greens just as I knew… no, it could not only be for my benefit.

I risked a quick glance around the chamber and found my shock and surprise mirrored in near every face there. Some other emotions too. Jasper Wylde looked as if he were about to be sick and Corlys’ surprise was dominated by a kind of resigned sadness. Lyonel hadn’t even told him, then? How long had the Hand been planning this? I wanted to rub at my brow in frustration-

“Lyonel,” father began, jolting me from my thoughts, and the eyes of the Small Council turned to him. He looked to be on the verge of tears, I realised. “There is no need to go through with this. Take up light duties for a while, I shall drop-”

“No, old friend,” said Lyonel, shaking his head. “It has become more and more apparent to me in these past few months that my time as your Hand is over. I am honoured to have served you, my King, but it is time I looked closer to home. Harrenhal has long been neglected by all but my uncle and Ser Simon deserves to spend his twilight years unburdened. It is time I went back there and tended to it as its lord.”

“I… I understand. It has been an honour to call you my Hand,” said father, his voice raspy. Perhaps I should not be so surprised he was taking this so hard. Lyonel had been his Hand for a long time. 

“I will never regret my time here,” Lyonel continued, his gaze sweeping around the chamber. “But I believe it is time to cede the legacy of House Strong to the younger generation.”

Larys, Sera and Harwin. Admittedly, all were well placed to gather influence, but none so well placed as the Hand of the King. A Hand respected by all, if not loved. He could do far more for Harrenhal from here. None of this made sense. I let my eyes flicker to Larys once more and found him looking thoughtful as he gazed on his father. 

“And a capable generation it is,” I said, sparing a smile at the Master of Whisperers. He gave me a smile in turn and it was a mocking one that made my teeth itch.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Lyonel, missing the exchange entirely, and giving me a pained look. It was as if he had to work at not pulling a face at me, which on reflection was likely the truth of the matter. “It is good to hear you speak highly of my children, as they speak highly of you in turn.”

I gave him a gracious nod but his eyes lingered on me for too long. The rest of the Council simply boiled down to each Councillor giving Lyonel their praise and sorrowful goodbyes as if he would walk out of the door and cease to exist. He might as well. He was effectively making himself a political non-entity and I just could not understand why. Over a decade of faithful service and then he resigns at a Council meeting with little to no warning… and no clear successor. The thought came like ice water pouring down my back. At least it could not be Otto, the silver linings from that disaster were still making themselves apparent.

Once I’d realised that, though, the elephant in the room became extremely obvious to me as each Councillor danced around the big question looming large in everyone’s minds… who would Viserys pick as his next Hand? Lyonel had been the Master of Laws before he had replaced Otto Hightower, but the current Master of Laws was Jasper Wylde and he… well, Lady Elenda was due to sort him out very soon. Perhaps I should ask her to move faster, to coincide his own resignation with Lyonel’s. He would simply be lost in the administrative shuffle then and father certainly couldn’t blame me.

“Your Grace, might I ask a boon of you?” I blinked as I realised it was Lyonel speaking to me and not to father. A boon? What could I provide Lyonel that he could not provide himself?

“If it is within my power to grant,” I said, the words slipping easily from my tongue. “Ask away, Lord Hand.”

“You know well my grief for my daughter,” he began, looking almost haunted for a moment. “Alys was my firstborn… I will mourn her to my dying breath. I want to take Sera back to Harrenhal with me. I want to take her home-”

He paused there and swallowed, and for a moment I saw the man before me still deeply grieving Alys’ death. The man he’d been for months after…

“I want to take her home. To see her married to a good man.” He finished and there was not a man in the room that didn’t look sympathetic, I realised with a sinking feeling. “Will you release her from her service?”

And then every eye turned to me and I wanted to sigh in aggravation.

“Should she consent-” He cut me off, his voice suddenly cold.

“No.” Even Corlys looked dumbstruck. “She will not leave unless you tell her to leave.”

“I will not force my friend to leave the life she has built for herself,” I argued and he scowled, his eyes swinging towards my father in appeal. Father glanced at me and I let my face show him how stubborn I intended to be on this topic. He grimaced and glanced back to Lyonel, his expression one of helplessness. 

“Please,” begged Lyonel. “My daughter… Sera deserves more than this. This is not a life, no matter how much you might think it is. She deserves to be given the chance to build her own happiness with a man who will love her.”

“Come on, Lyonel,” said Corlys, standing and reaching out to lay a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You can not force daughters into doing things they would rather not do. Take it from one who has experience in that.”

The not so funny observation got a strained chuckle out of the assembled men at least but Lyonel’s eyes were locked on mine and there was a fury there I did not like. He tugged his shoulder free of Corlys and gazed around the room, gauging his back up before bowing to father, shallow and stiff. An insult.

“It seems none of us can control our daughters these days,” he hissed and turned to leave, his stride carrying him to the doors before father could even struggle from his seat.

“You go too far, Lyonel!” he called but the boom of the great door slamming shut was his only answer and he dropped back into his seat with a groan, rubbing at his forehead as if he were about to be afflicted by a headache. After a minute or two of silence, he lowered his hand to the table with a thump and sighed before peering at me.

“You could not have promised to at least speak with the girl?” he asked, his tone frustrated. I flushed, aware the table’s eyes were on me again.

“She has always taken for granted that her father gives her choice,” I told him. “I will not be party to him taking that from her.”

“Please, Your Grace, I understand Her Grace’s position.” My eyes swung towards Larys, who was looking torn himself, and I was forced to mentally shift my understanding of him again. The concern seemed so genuine… “My sister deserves a chance to choose. She sacrificed greatly for your daughter, she wants that sacrifice to mean something. To not be erased should father finally manage to find some knight or lord more interested in her dowry than her.”

Maris was wrong, I realised. The thought hit me like thunder. Maris was wrong. There was no way this man killed his sister on purpose. There was no way this man hated his sisters. 

“Well,” said father, bringing my stunned gaze back to him. “I understand your position on the matter and my daughter’s… but Lyonel has a point, does the girl not deserve to marry?”

“She wants to marry a man she loves,” said Larys, before I could respond. “Whilst my father and Her Grace only had good intentions when they donated so much to her dowry, only greedy men unworthy of her have come seeking her hand. It is the issue of childbearing, you see. No man wishes to risk not leaving an heir of his body behind.”

“Surely legitimisation of bastards has been discussed,” murmured father, almost to himself.

“It has,” I told him. “She has high standards, though, and no man she has met yet has lived up to them. Still, this borders on gossip and is unworthy for the Small Council to consider.”

At my reminder, both Larys and father blushed as if they were naughty children caught with their hands in the cookie jar and I was forced to cover my laugh with my hand and a not very convincing coughing fit. Still, there was a weight on my gut as I rose to leave. I needed to know what Joffrey knew on the matter… how had my spymaster missed the resignation of the Hand?

“Your Grace.” I stopped and turned towards Larys, letting the rest file out after me. “We have had our differences and I will not pretend I am clueless as to why, but… thank you for protecting my sister in the way you have. She dotes upon your children in a way a mother might and you have given her purpose since Alys’… murder.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, searching his face for deceit but there was none. “The children dote on Sera in return.”

He gave me a nod and left. I watched him go and listened to his tapping as he made his way down the corridor before closing my eyes and marshaling my thoughts. Maris was wrong. If Larys had poisoned that bottle, he hadn’t done it on purpose and I couldn’t believe a man like Larys would be so foolish as to poison me using his own sister’s favourite drink. 

Which meant we were back to square one on who the culprit may have been. Damn it all!


	190. Preparation - Chapter 164

“I’m telling you he was sin-” Joffrey cut me off with an imperious wave of his fork, nearly managing to fling a shred of salmon at Laenor in the process.

“Larys is a cunning foe,” he said firmly. “He is capable of acting well enough to fool even your prodigious skills.”

“Do you think me such a fool as to be taken in by him? He is a spymaster, not a spy. We have no proof he can play the mummer well enough to fool any of us. In fact, it is his lack of skill at acting that has given him away every time.” I groused before reaching for my tea. “He was being honest, I’m sure of it. There was no hint of his usual slimy self! He cared whether Sera was happy or not.”

“His complete change in demeanour should tell you he was lying,” he insisted. “He is playing some new game and he is using you to get at me. He wants you to send me on a wild goose chase whilst he no doubt plans something nefarious!”

“For the love of the Father,” growled Laenor, causing both of us to twist in surprise at the interjection. He was rubbing at the bridge of his nose in frustration and guilt hit me square in the chest. “Can you both shut up about Larys Strong!? I swear you are both obsessed! I have heard nothing but Larys this and Larys that for three days, from both my lover and wife!”

“I apologise,” I murmured and he gave me a stiff nod before turning his attention back to Joffrey. My spymaster was frozen though, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see a muscle jumping. I caught his eye before sipping at the still boiling drink in front of me and savouring the flavours of summer fruits. There was a pause and then Joffrey sighed, sounding aggrieved.

“Very well,” he said, his irritation obvious. “I will not mention him again.”

Our table fell into silence and I put down my tea to pick at the fish we had been provided for lunch, letting my eyes drift to the empty place opposite me. Laena had been supposed to join us but she’d gotten caught up researching something about dragon’s wings and mechanisms for flight and had flown for Dragonstone. It had grated for a few moments before I’d taken a deep breath and let it go. I could no more bind her to me than anyone could, and at least I knew where she had gone and that she would be coming back. Would I ever not feel nervous when she flew off on her travels? And besides, it wasn’t like she was potentially hatching another one of those cursed creatures, right? The thought did little to cheer me.

“The fish is good!” I said, searching for anything to break the silence and distract me from my thoughts.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Laenor, his face brightening with a smile. “I think we switched suppliers recently. Father was most appreciative as well.”

“Oh, why did we switch? It’s not like Corlys to start changing things without warning,” I laughed, although it was strained. I didn’t care why, if I was quite honest, but the idle chatter served as a wonderful distraction. I ignored Joffrey’s slightly baleful glare as he tucked into his own meal and finished my tea in a single gulp before pouring myself some more.

“Father does this every now and again,” Laenor told me. “He likes to ensure we are getting value for our coin.”

“I suppose one does not become rich by being careless with his dragons,” I mused and Laenor nodded. “Has Jocelyn started speaking to you yet?”

“Ah… a few words,” he muttered, going red and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Truly, she knows how to hold a grudge.”

“If I am being fair, she rarely speaks to me. She spends what free time she does have napping where she thinks we can’t see her.” Laenor’s eyebrows shot up at that and then he snorted.

“Do you think we were too hard on her?” he asked. “I was so scared… all I could see was… well.”

The guilty glance he cast at Joffrey spoke volumes. Joffrey, for his part, was ignoring us both and prodding at the green vegetables on his plate. I doubted any of us would forget that day. The sounds of the melee, the way Criston had simply charged… Joffrey’s scream… I had heard it in my nightmares for weeks. 

“What do you think of the fish, Joff?” asked Laenor, shaking his head as if he was trying to banish his own thoughts. Joffrey pursed his lips for a moment and then laid his cutlery down, gentle and precise. I tensed in my seat. I knew my spymaster well, maybe not as well as Laenor, but well enough to know what was coming next. Next to me, Laenor tensed as well.

“I think we are ignoring that Larys has changed his tactics in light of his father’s resignation when we need to address that! I need to call a meeting between Maris, your father, Rhaenyra and I and work out how we respond and both of you are insisting on a nice meal where we pretend everything is okay!” He stood, reaching for his cane, and next to me Laenor rose with him, both glaring at the other.

“Joffrey,” said Laenor, keeping his voice steady. “Sit down.”

But Joffrey was gone and I knew it. He’d kept everything pent up and my ‘siding’ with Larys had been the straw that had broken the camel's back. It happened so rarely that it was easy to forget that it did… Otto’s murder, Rhaena’s birth, Larys becoming spymaster and now this. He would explode into anger, rage about whatever topic had him in such a state for an hour or two, and then transform back into the cool and competent Joffrey we all knew. I took a deep breath and focused on my tea. No good could come from sticking my oar in now. It would only inflame matters.

“I will not,” barked the stormlander. “He is plotting against us right now! I swore oaths upon oaths that I would see you safe! That I would keep your children safe!”

“What good is all of that if I lose you?” Laenor’s whisper was barely audible but there was no way Joffrey hadn’t heard it. He flinched backwards as if struck and I had never felt so out of place in my life. There was a long pause as he seemed to process that, his eyes flicking from the table to Laenor and then back. “My knight… I barely see you as it is.”

“What good will I be if you die?” he finally asked. “I can not wield a blade in your defence, I can’t lead armies to victory on the field. Seven Hells Laenor, I can barely ride a horse these days!”

“It’s not just on you to defend our family,” said Laenor, his lips curling into a pained smile. Joffrey snorted. “You are part of it as well and yet you hold yourself away from us all!”

“You learnt the blade, Laena learnt her spear and even Rhaenyra can throw daggers well enough to be lethal but I am dead weight and you know it.” 

“That’s not true,” I burst out, standing before I could stop myself. Both of them jumped as if they had forgotten I was there. “I mean… sorry.”

Joffrey snorted, half amused and half frustrated, shaking his head. I winced. Laenor did not look like he was about to back down and I knew that Joffrey wouldn’t.

“Joff,” said Laenor, giving me a look I couldn’t quite parse. Stay out of this might have been the main point of it, though. I dropped back into my seat and tried not to feel too guilty about the matter. He stepped out from around the table and approached his lover. Joffrey raised his head slightly to meet his eyes, his gaze defiant. Laenor paused a few steps away from him, meeting Joffrey’s gaze with a challenging one of his own.

“Go ahead, deny it,” said Joffrey bitterly. 

“You are my knight,” he said and Joffrey snorted in derision. “You will always be my knight.”

“Some knight,” he stated. “I could not ev-”

“I love you,” said Laenor, raising his voice slightly. “I love you now and I loved you then and that has never, ever changed. It is the one thing that has stayed constant, no matter how much we change in turn.”

Joffrey froze for an instant and then his gaze softened and I let out an explosive breath that I was sure they both heard. Neither reacted though as Laenor closed the last distance between them and caught Joffrey’s free hand between his own, raising it to his mouth and kissing it.

“Do I miss my hot-headed squire? The one who promised to fight the world for me? The one who would take on any who would see us torn apart? Of course.” Joffrey opened his mouth but Laenor held up a hand and his mouth snapped shut again. “But I wouldn’t trade him for you right now, Larys Strong or no Larys Strong.”

“I am still fighting the world for you,” whispered Joffrey. I wanted to tunnel into the ground at that moment. Laenor pulled Joffrey close and kissed him. My eyes found the window a second later.

“I know,” said Laenor quietly. “But you are letting the world win. You are letting Larys Strong win… you are as obsessed as he is, Joffrey. He is all we speak of. All you speak of. Everything you do is focused on him… I can’t bear to lose you to him. I just can’t. I would take a blade to his neck myself before I let him take you from me.”

“You say I have changed,” mumbled Joffrey, raising his hand to tug on Laenor’s beard with an odd kind of smile on his face. “But my silver prince would never have been so bold.”

Silence reigned as both reflected on that and then Laenor chuckled and bent his head once more to kiss his lover. Joffrey let out his own little snort of amusement and returned the kiss. The view of King’s Landing was truly delightful in summer. Especially when you couldn’t smell it.

“Come now,” said Joffrey, finally, his voice breathless. “We are making a spectacle of ourselves in front of the Princess.”

I felt blood rush to my face and cursed him silently as Laenor threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

“Sorry Rhaenyra,” he said as both men took their seats again, and I was aware that I was still blushing horribly and they both knew it. 

“I’ll think about forgiving you,” I managed. The tease fell a bit flat but Laenor flashed me a grin all the same and even Joffrey mustered up a strained smile of amusement at my predicament. “Still, I would appreciate…”

“No more explosions,” said Joffrey. “I apologise, Your Grace.”

At my expression, he snorted before shifting in his seat.

“Laenor has said it a thousand times and you yourself half a thousand again. It is… difficult. I was not… I was always taught it was not proper to lay my feelings bare for all and sundry to see,” he explained. 

“You used to, though,” Laenor insisted.

“I used to get less angry more often,” Joffrey said dryly. “And more often than not, I’d end up fighting some bastard in a tavern for some remark or insult and coming home feeling better because I’d broken his nose or cracked his skull.”

“Joff did nearly all his fighting in taverns at one point,” said Laenor proudly, brushing over the fact he almost certainly did that fighting on Laenor’s behalf.

“A rogue,” I said, poking at my now cold meal. “You must find another outlet though.”

“Of course, mother,” sighed Joffrey and caught a sharp look from me in turn. He gestured to himself. “I am hardly fit to be fighting in taverns once again.”

“And I would not allow you, anyway,” said Laenor hastily. “But Joff, we have to find something, she is right in that regard.”

“I am open to suggestions,” he said, leaning over to put his stick back.

“What is preventing you from throwing knives like Rhaenyra?” asked Laenor, curiously. 

“Oh, I’m quite terrible at it. I have tried, believe me. The harness I gave her was originally mine.” He blushed when I raised an eyebrow at that. That harness had long since been retired but… ugh. “I can’t even get the knife to hit blade first seven times out of ten and believe me, I practised.”

“Hmmm.” I searched my mind for anything that could help, although nothing immediately leapt to the forefront of my thoughts. Most throwing weapons required at least some involvement from the legs and most were hard to hide on your person. Knives were the easiest. I could testify to my ability to hide several small knives on my person at all times. Knives or… oh, of course. I smiled.

“Have you thought about darts?” I asked, and he wrinkled his nose as if he had smelled something foul before seeming to pause and think about it in depth.

“That game the smallfolk play when they want to lose their coin during local fairs?” Laenor asked. “I hardly think-”

“It… might work,” said Joffrey, slowly. “And if nothing else, I can always ensure the target is a portrait of Larys.”

Laenor groaned and dropped his head into his arms as Joffrey’s face lit up in a mischievous smile. I couldn’t help but giggle myself, picturing the whole scene in my head.

“I’ll look into getting a set made,” I promised as Laenor’s shoulders began shaking, as he laughed despite himself.


	191. Preparation - Chapter 165

The question of who would be Lyonel Strong’s replacement continued to loom large for the next week as father continued to dodge the question from all angles with the skill of an Olympic level gymnast. He seemed almost… depressed by the whole matter. I knew that he and Lyonel had met up in private and spoken. I knew because Corlys had told me that Lyonel’s plan to leave the capital almost immediately had been put on hold. Father had apparently wrangled him into agreeing to stay for a while to help smooth the transition of office of Hand over.

“Are you sure there have been no hints about who he has in mind?” I asked Joffrey as I broke away from yet another group of lords and ladies. Joffrey gave me a look, a look that spoke volumes about how many times I had already asked that particular question today alone. “It is unlike my father to be this quiet about the matter. Everyone knows why he has called this session but-”

“Your father will hardly appoint those likely to be an issue now,” murmured Joffrey, rolling his eyes. I resisted the urge to smack him in the arm for it and instead turned my attention to the rest of the room. There was an undercurrent of excitement there. Viserys’ Small Council had not changed so much since Jaremy Corbray’s death and there were rumours everywhere regarding the matter. Some said that Tyland Lannister was on his way to King’s Landing to take up the position of Hand, others said the Stormlords had been promised a place. The lords of the Vale whispered that the King had been courting Jeyne - nothing had been substantiated.

“This silence stinks of Larys,” I grumbled, poking at the crown I wore on my head until it was back in it’s position. The damnable thing had a habit of tilting askew at precisely the wrong moment.

“Of course it does,” he managed to grind out through gritted teeth. Despite Laenor taking a stand on the subject, we had still spoken about the matter in private. Joffrey and Maris insisted I was wrong, of course, whilst Corlys was hesitant but on my side. Maris was adamant he disliked his family, hated them even. I had argued that Harwin had been cruel to him and Maris had agreed but pointed out she perceived Larys had the same attitude around Lyonel, Simon and Sera too. I could not… no one could fake that kind of emotion. I was sure of it.

I gave him a look and he merely shrugged, his mouth set in a manner that spoke volumes about his opinion on the matter as well. I rubbed at my forehead, frustrated.

“I see Laenor has yet to arrive with the children,” he observed, his tone almost hesitant as he changed the subject. Something of Laenor’s rant had sunk in, then. I snorted. It probably wasn’t his fault, the Seven knew my children could be terrors when it suited them. I could picture them now. Aemma, Rhaena and Alys all ready to go and dressed neatly whilst Jocelyn whined and grumbled about her dress. Aemon being similarly critical about his own clothing and nobody noticing Luke had managed to cover himself in mud until the last moment… I shook myself out of that particular memory.

“He is preparing the children. To be quite honest, I am surprised Alys hasn’t charged down here by herself,” I told him and Joffrey nodded.

“I would have helped but Laena insisted,” he told me. “Rhaena pitched a fit and you know what she’s like.”

“You need not justify yourself,” I told him , raising my hands. He chuckled in response. “Your daughter is a terror when she wishes to be. Like her father.”

His smile became rueful and he shrugged.

“I will not argue the point. Rhaena can be a terror but I could not love her or Luke more.” I wanted to hug him then as the dopey but proud smile grew over his face. It was as if he’d tried fighting it and had lost.

“Rhaenyra!” I turned to find Helaena slipping through the crowd, a bright smile fixed on her face. “I have not seen you in too long!”

“I refuse to take the blame for that,” I told her, pulling her into a hug. “You are the one avoiding me. Sorry, Joffrey, do you mind?”

Joffrey shrugged and then gestured for me to go on, still clearly lost in thought. Helaena gave him a little wave as he limped off through the crowd.

“It is true,” she admitted. “I have been… I never thought it would be so wonderful to have a child, Rhaenyra.”

“Well, I see Rhaekar has fallen on the well behaved side of things,” I replied, remembering Jocelyn’s younger days, almost against my will. Helaena’s grin grew a little wider in turn and I suspected she might be remembering the same thing. I took the gap in our conversation as an opportunity to truly examine her. She had lost her pregnancy weight and was showing as much off with a bold purple gown that certainly went with her eyes. When she noticed my attention, she gave a little twirl and mischievous smile. I snorted and linked my arm through hers, steering her towards the edges of the party. I had been meaning to speak to her since I had learnt of Aegon turning down Oldstones but the time never seemed right.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Aegon and father’s offer,” I replied dryly and she sighed. That one sigh said a lot; frustration, annoyance and exasperation. “He has been-”

“A nuisance,” she snapped. “He turns up drunk at all hours and then makes such a fool of himself in front of Lady Maris regardless of whether it was… the snake’s fault or not!”

I blinked in surprise at the complaint.

“He has been getting drunk regularly,” she told me as if reading my mind, looking tired suddenly. “Ever since father offered him Oldstones… I was ever so angry at him, Rhaenyra. I said some very cruel things but… he shouldn’t have said no! It was to be our son’s future.”

She looked so glum that this time I did not bother to resist the urge and simply pulled her into a tight hug. To be fair, hugging Helaena was more acceptable than hugging Joffrey anyway.

“I know he did not want me just as I did not want him but I thought he would at least ask my opinion on such matters as being offered a lordship,” she grumbled into my shoulder and it was with some annoyance I noted she had to bend slightly to get into such a position. My sister had a few inches on me… so did all my siblings but Viserra, and I had no doubt she would soon be taller given the rate she was sprouting up at.

“I tried to speak with him but, alas, he was drunk,” I told her and she winced. “I did not know it was a regular occurrence.”

“Yes, I… I heard about that. I am sorry-” I waved her off. The fact that she had ignored my prodding on the matter did not bode well.

“It is not you who needs to apologise,” I told her and some tension seemed to leech from her form but she still looked exhausted and I felt bad for even bringing up Aegon and his recent change in behaviour. “I will catch him sober, do not worry. Or I’ll have father do it. Now, onto more cheerful matters?”

“Of course,” she said, summoning a small smile. “What matters are those?”

“I do recall promising little Rhaekar a friend to play with and yet neither boys have met yet.” At that, Helaena’s smile became a great deal more genuine and something eased within me.

“Some time soon?” she asked. “When all this business with the new Hand is over?”

“As soon as possible,” I told her earnestly and she beamed at me. “Tell me, have you heard anything?”

She froze and then noticed I’d noticed the action before groaning and biting her lip.

“I might have,” she murmured before leaning in a little closer. “You didn’t hear this from me but Gawen Westerling has been telling everyone that Tyland Lannister has been summoned from Casterly Rock.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I felt the colour drain from my cheeks. She winced at my reaction.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t think Aegon even cares but… well, it’s Gawen. He would know, his aunt is married to Lord Jason.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” I murmured, my eyes drifting through the crowd until I picked out Joffrey in a conversation with a minor landed knight. I could have sworn Gawen had come up in his briefings… but no, I must be mistaken.

“I can not believe that father did not tell you ahead of time,” she said with a sigh.

“You know how he is,” I replied, focusing on her once more. “He’ll have some completely flawless reasoning that only makes sense to himself.”

That made her giggle, even if she did look a little guilty about it afterwards.

“Ser Laenor Velaryon, Princess Jocelyn Targaryen, Princess Alyssa Targaryen, Prince Aemon-” I turned as the herald began announcing and quickly spotted my children making their way in. My heart stopped for a moment as pride choked me. Even Jocelyn had been persuaded to go all out. Each of my children looked every inch the royalty they were.

“I’ll leave you to it,” murmured Helaena. I caught her hand before she could disappear entirely and gave it a friendly squeeze. She stopped and then grinned at me.

“Soon,” I told her and her grin widened again.

“Of course! I can not wait!” And then she was gone, weaving through the crowds and turning heads whilst she did so. It was sad, really. I knew without it needing to be said that she had people she’d rather have married and as a princess she’d have had the pick of the bunch but she’d been shackled to Aegon, a marriage neither wanted. It would not blossom into love, there would be no grand romance… I shoved it from my mind and went to greet my children.

Jocelyn was subdued, she had been since Ser Steffon had her formally request the day off from training to attend. Alys was much more lively, her gaze swinging this way and that. Truly, it was a testament to her self-control that she hadn’t darted off into the crowd to find her adoring fans.

“Mama!” she called as I pushed my way through. “Have you seen my dress?”

She gave me a twirl, black fabric with scarlet piping on full display, as I gave them all a broad grin. Jocelyn, wearing the reverse of her sister, gave her sister a listless clap before turning to me. She was still tired, I realised. Perhaps a day or two off wouldn’t hurt. Especially if she was struggling to even keep her eyes open during the biggest social event this month. 

“It’s beautiful,” I told Alys. “Take your sister with you when you go wandering about?”

“I’m fine, mama.” Jocelyn’s protest was somewhat ruined by the quickly stifled yawn she couldn’t quite conceal. “I want to hang out with Luke when he gets here, not Alys’ friends.”

“Where is Luke?” I asked. I could have sworn Laena was supposed to arrive with her brother. It was Aemma, dressed in sea green, that answered my question. Rhaena hovered by her side in a similar dress, her violet eyes more taken in by the pageantry of the Court than whatever had happened to her brother.

“Luke cut himself so auntie Laena said to go on ahead,” she told me in a sing-song voice. “Rhaena wanted to come with us so she didn’t miss anything.”

“Cut himself,” I repeated, struggling to quite understand how… Rhaena pulled a face and Aemma nudged her.

“He was showing off,” said Alys, tone full of exasperation and I turned my attention to her. “And he dropped the knife. Don’t worry, mama, it wasn’t too horrible. Auntie Laena was mostly annoyed that he wiped his hand on his doublet.”

I caught Laenor’s eye and he gave me a grim look.

“The medic will be called, I suspect,” he told me when the children’s attention wandered and their little group began splitting up. I didn’t reply straight away, watching with worry as Jocelyn trailed listlessly after Alys. “Rhaenyra?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, dragging my attention back to him. “Is it really that bad?”

“A few stitches,” he replied before his eyes narrowed. “What is wrong?”

I bit my lip, reasons why I shouldn’t mention my worry for Jocelyn here of all places springing forth. His eyes left me, seeking what I had been staring at in the crowd. He tensed slightly when he realised.

“I am merely worried about how tired she seems,” I whispered. He reached up to scratch at his beard before sighing.

“I trust Ser Steffon but… he says she is doing well. Perhaps it may be time to introduce a rest day?” he suggested and I let out a little sigh of relief.

“I will speak to Ser Steffon,” I promised and he nodded, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Do so, you have my support. Now, where is Joffrey? I wish to go menace him as he plays politics.” I snorted and pointed my spymaster out. Laenor gave me one last, bright grin before shoving his way through the nobles towards his lover.


	192. Preparation - Chapter 166

Watching Laenor tease Joffrey as the latter was trying to hold a very serious conversation with various notables was vastly more preferable to the idea of walking and shaking hands when I was unsure whom my father would even choose as Hand in the coming hour or so. Whom would he choose? Why was Tyland coming to the capitol? I could not believe he would choose the man for Hand of all things. Then again, there was precedent. Tyland was the brother of a powerful lord, just as Otto had been, and Lannister power had only grown in court since Aegon began playing his little game.

Thus I contented myself with moving about the room, keeping an eye on my children as they played with the others present. My wards were there as well - Aliandra had ensconced herself with her Dornish Court in one of the corners, Jeyne and Alysanne were with their kin, both groups on opposite sides of the room but somehow still managing to throw glares at one another and finally Rolph making polite small talk with some Marbrand uncle of his. I had barely seen the boy since our return from Dragonstone, although Laenor reported that his behaviour had improved by leaps and bounds. Although I wasn’t quite sure what it had done to his relationship with Jocelyn. The two had been friends and now they barely spoke to one another. Did he blame her? That brought irritation. She’d hardly wrestled him out of his armour, he had no right to.

I let my gaze move on, catching sight of Helaena and Viserra together chatting with some of Aemond’s river knights. No sign of Aegon or Aemond though, and Daeron would still be with Aemond. I shook the suspicion from my thoughts. Joffrey would know if they were up to something, I was quite sure of it. I sought out more more familiar faces as I gave out distracted greetings. Corlys in a fine dark doublet, moving from small group to small group with an easy smile on his face. No Rhaenys, she was back in Driftmark overseeing some minor dispute that had been raised between two high profile merchants there.

Lyonel… my heart stuttered when his eyes met mine. Like me, he was sticking to the edges of the gathering, a fearsome scowl on his face driving all but the bravest of lords away. I wanted to sigh. He had gone behind my back, of course. He’d caught Sera alone and demanded she resign her post, he threatened and raged, he’d brought up Alys and attempted guilt… but Sera was stubborn. She had come to me in tears, begged me to ignore her father’s entreaties for me to force the issue. I’d had to persuade Sab to not challenge him to a duel. And still Sera was oblivious as to her feelings, even after watching her rant and rage and then hack at a nearby tree with her sword.

Maris had been far worse to rein in. Both she and Harwin had taken offence to Lyonel trying to force the issue. Harwin may be frighteningly dull at times but he loved his baby sister and seeing her cry had upset him. Which had only upset Maris more and she’d already been distressed enough at seeing her friend like that. Her husband joining in too had her recruiting Fal and Marya and planning something… underhanded, no doubt. I’d been forced to put a stop to it, no matter how much I’d wanted to let them go on. Lyonel was on his way out, he was leaving with none of his children, and he knew it.

“Your Grace.” I paused and found myself face to face with Gerold Redfort and Lord Lyman Beesbury. “Lady Arryn and Lady Royce send their greetings.”

“Thank you, Lord Redfort,” I replied, taking one last sweep of the court before settling myself in for a conversation. I was not sure how long it would be before father made his appearance. Truly, his need for spectacle and pageantry was beyond vexing at times. Everything from appointing a new councillor to namedays had to be done with great pomp and celebration. “Hello, Lord Lyman, I hope you are well!”

The old man’s face lit up at that and my heart panged again. Gods, he was truly old now. He seemed so small…

“Rhaenyra! I am well, how are you? I see you’ve unleashed the children.” He adored my children as if they were his own grandchildren. Bribing them with honey nut treats was only the tip of the iceberg, and they adored him in turn.

“I will be better when I know what father is planning,” I joked and Lyman chuckled.

“Won’t we all,” he replied. “But he knows what he is doing, best not worry too much about it.”

“Can’t be done, I thought you knew that already?” I told him, smiling despite myself and he snorted in amusement. “As for the children, I figured they deserved a treat.”

“So I see.” He peered about for a moment, taking in Alys’ little court, Aemon and a small group of squires and Rhaena and Aemma off in their own little corner. Gerold took the silence to jump back in.

“Where is Lady Laena?” he asked. “I would have thought she would have brought her boy along. I see the girl…”

“The boy,” I started dryly, “… decided to impress his cousins with a knife trick.”

“Ah,” said Gerold, face lighting up in amusement. For a moment, he seemed to relax and his smile shifted away from the slightly strained manner it was always stuck in these days. “Why, I remember when Alaric got his first knife. The moment he had the thing out of the sheath he’d cut himself testing the edge. Jess never-”

Then he stopped dead and shook himself, his smile dying a little.

“Well, enough of my reminiscing. Suffice to say she shouldn’t worry much, it’s the nature of boys to cut themselves on nearby sharp objects.” Lyman hummed in agreement, peering at the Vale lord with an odd look on his face, and I was reminded that he knew very little of the whole debacle surrounding Gerold, Jess and Jeyne. It wasn’t as if I could fill him in either. He was father’s, not mine, and I was under no illusions he’d relay everything back to the King the moment I took my eye off of him.

“Ah, I have been meaning to thank you,” said Lyman, finally, when the silence went on for too long. “The boy you sent me has settled in quite well. He has talent.”

I smiled in acknowledgement to that. Maranos had only arrived recently but I was glad he’d already made an impression at least. That he was not Tycheo had been hammered home by now… I should really get to know him. If he was to be my Master of Coin, officially or unofficially, I needed to win him over beyond the protection I had already extended to him.

“I am glad, he worked with the Iron Bank for a while, you know?” Lyman nodded at that, smiling benignly.

“Yes, he made mention of such and I do vaguely recall him from his last trip here.” Ah, of course. Lyman had been at that meeting, hadn’t he? “Truly, I’m surprised you managed to snag him, but given the new Sealord’s hostility I can understand why the lad made his way here.” 

“Indeed-” I began but was cut off by the herald announcing my father’s entrance. “Pardon me, my lords.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” said Gerold. 

“Go easy on him,” said Lyman, smiling as if he were a proud grandfather.

“No promises,” I told him dryly. If he appointed Tyland Lannister to the position, they’d be finding bits of him for years to come, I thought darkly as I took my place beside the Throne. The only satisfaction as I looked at Alicent’s smug face while father seated himself was that my children were making a good show of themselves, lining up with Laenor and Joffrey. The Queen was dressed in resplendent green and looking as if nothing could dampen her spirits. She gave father a gracious smile as he made himself comfortable and examined his assembled court.

There was tension in the air and you would need to be a fool not to feel it. Greens and Blacks both glancing at one another, waiting to see where the chips would fall. I was in father’s good graces, truly I hadn’t fallen from them in over a decade, but sudden reversals of fortune were common, especially given the backstabbing and double-dealing the factions sometimes resorted to. I would be the first to admit that if father became aware of Joffrey’s actions… well, I was not sure what would happen. Nothing good.

It was testament to Alicent’s good mood that even seeing Queen Alysanne’s crown atop my head she did little more than frown and even then her annoyingly smug expression chased it away. The knowledge settled like a stone in my belly. What had she done? Bent father’s ear on the matter? I refused to believe he’d be stupid enough! He’d gotten better, so much better. For all that I bemoaned him, he was not the Viserys of canon that had thrown his daughter to the wolves and then partied the rest of his life away.

“Welcome all!” called father and I forced my expression back to its neutral state if only to avoid giving her the satisfaction of knowing she had me ruffled. “I thank you all for coming here to witness the appointment of my new Hand!”

That got them whispering again, a hum of voices rising up around me. They threw glances this way and that, who was here and who wasn’t, they asked themselves. He let them mutter just long enough before waving a hand. 

“Lord Lyonel Strong has served me better than any other man could. Truly, he deserves many more accolades than the ones I have given him already.” Murmurs of agreement as the court’s attention swung from father to Lyonel. His grim face barely changed but he consented to bow slightly in father’s direction and then the attention swung back. My father, always the showman. “But now it is time to name a new man to the position.”

You could hear a pin drop as he paused once more, it seemed no one in the room dared to breathe in case they somehow misheard. 

“Lord Corlys Velaryon! I call upon you to take the office of Hand of the King!” My sigh of relief was audible, Joffrey raising an eyebrow as he peered at me over Jocelyn’s head as Laenor snickered, but I couldn’t miss that both looked relieved in turn. Corlys was… the best case scenario really, I reflected. The man in question made his way to the foot of the Throne and bowed low.

“I can not put into words what an honour this is, Your Grace,” said Corlys smoothly and I was impressed to find no real hint of the true feelings his words must be masking. I very much doubted time had changed much of his opinions on who should be seated on the Iron Throne. As father led Corlys through the various oaths, I risked a glance at Alicent and smothered the glee that brought before it could reach my face.

She was pale, trembling on her little throne as she watched Corlys solemnly swear to serve father to the best of his abilities and all the other rigmarole that came with the position during this era. The summoning of Tyland made sense now, and I cursed myself for not seeing it sooner, for worrying like a fool when Tyland’s canon role had been flashing father’s intentions at me like some… what was the word…

Corlys paused in the middle of his oath as Alicent rose from her seat, her green eyes blazing with fury I hadn’t seen in years as she surveyed the watching crowd.

“My Queen?” asked father, his face a mask of earnest worry. Mumbling was beginning to break out across the court now as Alicent’s facade fell. I did not smile at her when our eyes met, but it was a close thing. “My Queen, is something wrong?”

Father was on his feet now, looking as if he were ready to charge down the steps to her side. The chatter of the court rose to a discordant roar as she remained frozen at the foot of the Iron Throne, her only movement being her eyes darting back and forth. Then her face twisted into a snarl and even father fell back slightly at the sight of it.

“Congratulations on your new position, Lord Corlys,” she all but hissed. He blinked, his mouth hanging open, as surprised as even I was that Alicent had lost her temper so publicly. The surprise didn’t outweigh the glee, the triumph that I was feeling, though. Then Alicent strode off, her green dress flowing around her as she stormed from the room, pausing only to elbow a few men who weren’t quick enough to leap out of her way.

Silence reigned for a few moments and then the Court exploded into noise.


	193. Preparation - Chapter 167

Corlys had wasted little time in commissioning a silver clasp as his badge of office. It gleamed on his breast as he took Lyonel’s old seat. There was a smug air about him, which I’ll grant was perhaps deserved, but he also seemed a little subdued. His new position had come at his friend’s expense, I supposed. The other councillors entered and took their seats just as sedately as both I and Corlys had done. Expectation was in the air, and none could keep their speculative glances from Corlys for long. 

Lyonel had been a details man, a light hand at the rudder until some project was underway and then he could be found planning it step by step. He’d kept himself free of politics and the succession, rarely involved himself in the bickering and nastiness… They were all wondering what Corlys would be like. So was I, in a way. We may get along well now, but that was as Blacks, a faction I ruled over utterly. Corlys was Hand here, a position that was equal to my own in power… in theory anyway.

Time moved on and still there was no sign of father. I winced. He had not taken Alicent storming off well. I had seen neither her nor father in a few days, in fact. No messages from the Keep, no contact at all, really… I hadn’t even seen my siblings despite sending a message to Helaena about arranging Rhaekar and Viserys’ meeting. I blinked as Edmund cleared his throat.

“It seems the King will be late,” he said, peering at his fellow councillors. There was a mumble of agreement at that.

“Have we had any word that he will be attending?” I asked. Father had not missed a Council session at all in recent memory but if Alicent was angry enough that she was openly showing hostility? I suppressed a shudder. No, I did not envy father or any of my siblings right now. I even felt sorry for Aegon… it could not be easy.

“We have not, Your Grace. I am given to believe that the royal household has been occupying His Grace’s time of late.” The Grand Maester had a hint of disapproval in his voice when he said that, earning himself a sharp glance from both Lyman and Corlys.

“I do hope everyone is well,” I said, feigning innocence. “I have not heard anything?”

Edmund frowned and Larys smirked but kept his eyes on whatever papers he’d gathered.

“Nothing serious, I’m sure,” said Jasper quickly, sending a warning look at his fellow Green. Edmund’s frown cleared even though I could tell by his eyes he still wanted to speak on the matter. Father’s arrival, a storm of anger and clear annoyance, put an end to any more speculation on our parts. We each waited in silence like naughty children as he took his seat and fixed us all, even me, with a meaningful glare. When his and Corlys’ gazes met, Viserys gave him a nod and I swear Corlys relaxed slightly.

“It seems changes must be made.” Father’s voice… I had never heard that tone before. Anger and grief all tied up in one another as he met anyone even glancing at him with a challenging glare. “I have received no less than two resignations this past day and I have yet to even appoint my new Master of Ships.”

The words were like a punch to the gut as I glanced around the room. Not Lyman? Surely not. He would have said something! Jasper Wylde was a shoe in for one of them. Elenda must have seen the same opportunity I had and moved to advise him of his options. Evidently he had elected to bow out gracefully, but who was the other? Not Corlys, I could not believe Lyman would leave… which left Larys or Edmund, and the idea of either of those just giving up was…

“May I ask which of our members will be leaving us?” asked Corlys, finally. Jasper cleared his throat meaningfully.

“I am one of them, I am afraid,” he stated. “Recent events have seen a need for me to return home. My apologies once again, Your Grace.”

Father waved a dismissive hand.

“We will be sorry to see you leave,” I told him. “Your service has been exemplary.”

He had made a good Master of Laws, if I was being frank. My issue with him had always been that which let him excel, he cared too much about the written letter of it. He would see Daemon on the Throne before me, and that had always been a problem. I was actually fairly amazed that he had bowed to the pressure Elenda had brought, in the end. He had always seemed so stern and unyielding.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He gave me a nod in return. That still left…

“And I am the second.” My train of thought derailed utterly as Larys finished speaking. “My appointment was always contested, and with father leaving the capital I believe it is time for me to leave as well. His Grace has been kind enough to offer me an estate near Harrenhal.”

What was his game!? Why abandon the capital? All of his resources were here. Why abandon his position? It gave him power…. Why had Joffrey not known this was coming? I knew Larys was good but not that good…

“So it seems we will need a new Master of Whisperers, a new Master of Laws as well as a new Master of Ships,” murmured Edmund, his shock perfectly summing up everyone’s feelings.

“I have received recommendations for replacements,” said father and I looked at him, my gaze sharper than intended. He met my eyes with a level stare. I refused to let him win and he looked away first, shifting in his seat. “Lord Wylde, I accept your recommendation. Lord Tyland Lannister is hereby named Master of Laws.”

Not Master of Ships? I met Corlys’ eyes but the man looked as completely lost as I did. How had father gotten this by us all? I would need to call a meeting when we returned to the manse. Joffrey has missed too much lately and I needed to know what damage Tyland could do as our new Master of Laws. The man was like an eel, slippery even if he did not look like much initially.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I know Ser Tyland will serve you as ably as I have,” said Jasper. Father nodded.

“As for your recommendation, Lord Larys, I accept that too.” Larys gave him a nod, a small smile playing about his lips. I felt my eyes narrow as I looked at him. What Green stooge had sel- “Lord Gerold Redfort will be raised to the title of Master of Whisperers.”

Oh, Larys. For once, I think I might be one step ahead of you. At least we now knew who had blackmailed him. So Alicent and Larys had almost certainly been behind Edric’s little rebellion. He had erred there, then, the knowledge would only bind Jeyne even closer to me when I revealed it. I let myself relax a little. So far, father’s new appointments were almost all in my favour.

“And my recommendation, Your Grace?” said Corlys. I frowned. He hadn’t told me about any recommendation on his end…

“I do not accept it.” Corlys’ face dropped. 

“May I ask why?” His voice had an edge to it. “My son has almost single-handedly advanced ship building and sailing by decades with one project.”

“Ser Laenor will soon be departing with my daughter. He will not be able to attend his to duties as required by the role.” It was an excuse and everyone knew it. Corlys’ jaw clenched tightly. As for me, I wasn’t sure if Laenor would even want the role… then again, surely Corlys had told him that he intended to nominate him for Master of Ships? Why had Laenor not said anything? Was this just a grand conspiracy of people not telling me important things? I frowned as father forged onward, ignoring the thunderous look on Corlys’ face.

“Instead I have elected to raise Ser Bryndemere Tarth to the position of Master of Ships.” I blinked, surprised. I had heard of the Evenstar of Tarth, of course. More interested in chasing pirates around his island than ruling it, by all accounts. He had supported Daemon during the early days and that was enough to make me wary of him… I couldn’t recall if he had been mentioned in canon. The Stormlands had sided with Aegon then, and Bryndemere had likely followed his liege lord. Given Borros was with me this time around, I could only hope Bryndemere would keep following his liege lord.

“I have had the man vetted,” said father, and I realised he was looking at me. “I am aware he has held troublesome views in the past, but that was born from his dislike of pirates.”

“Of course father,” I said. He gave me a nod.

“As a final note, I have decided to allow Lord Commander Marbrand to attend the meetings once more. He has proved himself to be no Criston Cole.” And suddenly it all made sense. Barring Edmund, which he could do nothing about, every single appointment was designed to shore up my power in the capital before I went away on my Progress. Corlys as Hand, a Stormlord replacing him as Master of Ships, the Master of Whisperers once again mine… and a convenient Lannister hostage for them to take in the form of Tyland should something occur whilst I was gone. I let out a breath and forced myself to relax.

The capital would be secure then. Which left Larys to deal with. I had no doubt his resignation meant something. Joffrey may be quick to blame him for every tiny thing that had gone wrong in the past ten years, he was not by any means underestimating Larys, really. The man was cunning… he would not give up simply because he had lost his father’s support. Think… it was clear he was abandoning the capital. He had lost here and he was leaving Alicent to her fate, a withdrawal to the Riverlands where he held the home advantage, but I had no doubt he’d keep men within King’s Landing. Gerold was proof of that. That Larys had recommended him… he thought Gerold was his and he likely thought I was of the mind Gerold was mine. Unless he knew I knew Gerold was being blackmailed and recommended him to throw me off the… no, I was beginning to sound like Joffrey again.

Gerold Redfort’s blackmailer almost certainly had to be Larys. I could not see anyone else able to get that information, bring it to the man’s attention whilst simultaneously bankrolling the budding rebellion, all as the Vale went on unaware. So Larys would assume Gerold could still be his, especially if his position here and the last way of winning back his children was under threat. So Larys would retreat in good order, leaving behind what he believed to be a man in my own upper echelons.

“- agree with His Grace,” Corlys was saying when I snapped back into reality. “Lord Marbrand has proved himself a thousand times over.”

“I merely posit the theory that the Lord Commander can perform his role best when not distracted by the politics of the realm,” Grand Maester Edmund said. He was looking a little pale, I noted with amusement. Edmund was Green, so far as the Green cause was useful to him. Losing so many ‘allies’ in one fell swoop must have unnerved him.

“Exactly why the Lord Commander must know the internal workings of Westeros,” said Larys, smiling sharpy as Edmund turned to him with an almost betrayed look. “He must know which direction a threat is likely to come from, should he not?”

“That is your job,” snapped Edmund. Larys shrugged.

“Was,” he replied simply. “I am merely Lord Strong now. I suppose I shall have to find myself a wife.”

“Enough,” said father, sounding tired. “I hereby declare this council over. It is to reconvene when the new councillors arrive to take up their roles. I trust there are no looming disasters?”

“None here, Your Grace,” said Lyman firmly. “We are even managing to pay a little extra to the Iron Bank each month.”

“And I have passed over my assessments regarding threats to the realm,” Larys said. “Both to our new Hand and to yourself.”

“And the Gold Cloaks are in as good order as always. Ser Harwin has really come into his own. My own treatises on the law are being written up by my scribes as we speak.” Somehow, Jasper speaking up surprised me. He had become ever more reticent these past few months. Elenda’s doing no doubt. 

“Then go,” snapped father. I bit my lip and waited as the men rose around me. I caught Corlys’ warning glance but shook my head. He gave me a look that screamed ‘rather you than me’ and departed, his sky blue cloak swirling almost dramatically. “You too, Rhaenyra, I wish to be alone.”

“And I wish to comfort my father,” I replied. “I have had no word from anyone. What is wrong?”

He snorted and seemed to slump in his chair, looking more exhausted than I’d seen him in a long time.

“She has finally issued her ultimatum. Me or you. Leave me, Rhaenyra, for the choice hurts.” I blinked at his words, mind barely comprehending them.

“Father?” I asked. Surely she wouldn’t… surely she knew… but with her side decimated once more, the relevancy they had clawed back shattered and her own children’s growing resentment… Gods, she really had lost it. Why did the knowledge make me uncomfortable? Why did it scare me?

“Rhaenyra,” he said. “Let me grieve. I do not need your glee.”

“No glee. I am sorry it came to this.” I let my hand rest on his forearm for a moment and he shifted his pain filled gaze to meet my eyes. “What will happen?”

“I do not know. I hope… I can only hope she will calm down.” On instinct, I leaned across and wrapped my arms about him.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, still wondering where the expected joy at this news was. “I’m sorry, father.”

“I am too. Go, Rhaenyra, attend to your children and give them my best.”


	194. Preparation - Chapter 168

“How did you miss this?” I asked. Joffrey squirmed in his seat but his little glances around the room revealed no allies. Corlys and Maris merely kept their stern gazes on him. Maris might normally be his ally in such a matter, but she was more concerned about her children. Larys moving was a threat to her, even if I was unsure about the truth of that myself. Corlys… well, he demanded competence at the very least. To miss half the Small Council resigning or leaving? That was no small thing.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, when it was apparent there was no aid coming to him. I felt a spark of pity as he ran an agitated hand through his longish hair. “Gawen Westerling was boasting openly of Ser Tyland being summoned… the mistress I have in place for him did send her reports! I just-”

“Missed them?” I asked, worry making my stomach drop. “Or were they deliberately hidden?”

“By whom?” he asked. “The courier should have brought them straight to me, but there is no record of such a delivery.”

“Can we be sure this ‘mistress’ sent them?” asked Maris, her eyes blazing with an intensity I wasn’t sure I liked. Of course, she must suspect Larys. It seemed pointless to go so far, to reveal infiltration into Joffrey’s ranks, just to hide Tyland being summoned for a few days… I reached up to massage at my temples as Joffrey snapped something at Maris and Maris snapped back.

I was getting too caught up on him missing Gawen's boasting, I realised. He could not be blamed for Larys or Elenda, I supposed. I could hardly focus on that now though.

What was Larys' game? He had retired and received land… he was a lord in truth now. That gave him power and legitimacy, but it also took him away from the capitol. So whatever he was up to, he didn’t need Alicent for it anymore. Likely, he knew a sinking ship when he saw one. He needed another way to get at Joffrey… the Progress? No, that still didn’t fit. Our itinerary didn’t bring us close to Harrenhal and surely he’d want to capitalise on Joffrey being away to shore up his own networks? Was this part of his dance, perhaps? Joffrey was leaving King’s Landing and so he must too? That seemed closer to the man he had been before Alicent, when every interaction had been just another way to be noticed.

And just how did Gerold Redfort enter into the equation?

“Enough!” I finally barked when Corlys got involved and the argument devolved into noise as each of them threw accusations of incompetence at one another. “Enough. This doesn’t get us anywhere.”

“She’s right,” said Corlys. “It doesn’t. We have to figure out what is coming next.”

“We have a Black Council,” said Joffrey. “King’s Landing is ours, and I am inclined to agree with Rhaenyra when she says she believes Tyland to be there as a hostage to the Lannister's good behaviour.”

“The navy is stacked with my men,” said Corlys firmly. “He’ll have little room to manoeuvre real power from the position.”

“And if he brings Lannister men in?” I asked.

“Viserys wouldn’t let him,” replied Maris. “The King would see it for what it was.”

“We hope,” murmured Joffrey, his tone dark. I sent him a warning look. “I’m merely pointing out he has made some curious decisions in the past.”

His eyes lingered a moment too long on my neck and I flushed, almost shivering at the memory.

“That won’t happen again,” I said firmly after the moment passed. “Alicent has issued an ultimatum. Father has answered.”

“Not sure what she thought she was doing,” growled Corlys. “She knew he’d never pick her. Especially not now. Maybe in the beginning?”

“Then you’re blind, Lord Hand,” chuckled Maris and Corlys directed a raised eyebrow at her. “Her ultimatum wasn’t for Viserys, it was for Westeros as a whole.”

“Choose me or Rhaenyra. He chose me. I don’t understand?” Maris gave me a fond look before chuckling at my ire.

“Alicent is losing power within the Greens. More and more of her lords want to deal with Aegon. She is no longer a leader of a powerful faction but a… well-known face within a faction that is more Aegon’s by the day,” explained Maris. “This is merely a way of reminding everyone that this isn’t about hatred, it’s about a wife being wronged by her husband and her son being cheated out of his inheritance. It shores up her draining influence and probably has already won her a few points with our dear prince.”

“Aegon dislikes her influence over him,” I said slowly. “But if she were to remind him it’s not about but what was stolen from him…”

“Then Aegon likely stops ordering his mother barred from his rooms for a few weeks,” finished Maris. “And right now he’s… not at his best. A sympathetic ear willing to fall behind him at last…”

“Would she give up control of the Greens?” I asked sharply. “Is this why Larys is so publicly breaking ties with her?”

“Nothing is for our benefit,” said Joffrey. “Her target is Aegon. Not us?”

“Makes sense,” said Corlys. “Aegon is her best bet at power now, and what true knight hates their own mother?”

“Surely he wouldn’t fall for it,” I murmured even as Helaena’s words about his frequent drunken episodes came back to haunt me. I hesitated.

“Larys humiliated him. If Alicent told him she got rid of him-” Joffrey mused.

“But Larys was Alicent’s when he did so. Could she come back from that?” asked Corlys, leaning forward in his seat.

“And,” Maris added, face thoughtful. “She can hardly parade his resignation as a victory when my dear goodbrother has been rewarded with land.”

“She may believe she can,” I said. “She has misjudged Aegon in the past. He may see it as another attempt to control him.”

“Publicly humiliate him and then swoop in as the saviour,” murmured Joffrey. “She might believe it would work.”

“If that is her angle then it won’t. Aegon would sooner have her confined to a motherhouse than fall under her sway again,” I noted dryly. “Do you think this woman close to Gawen can be trusted?”

“I was certain of it, but if Maris is right…?” Joffrey trailed off.

“Look again,” I ordered. “Gawen is Aegon’s right hand man. His pillow talk is worth a lot.”

“And if all else fails, we can always reveal her to Aegon. It’ll be a nice tongue lashing for Gawen and will only further alienate the prince from his knights,” Corlys added. I nodded along. The idea was good. Gawen would likely be desperate to keep her a secret given Aegon’s views on the matter, and she could be useful even if it was discovered she was a problem…

“I think I need to send Larys another message before he leaves the capitol.” That had all of us staring at Joffrey in shock. He flushed but held his head high. “We are forgetting that he was also searching for Daemon and Mysaria’s men.” 

I winced. Or course. A rude awakening. Unbidden, one finger traced the velvet that covered my prosthetic, the material unnaturally cool and unyielding to touch.

“Both of us are making slow progress,” said Joffrey, regretfully. “His obvious ones were, well, obvious. A little digging found us both our fair share of quarries, but I doubt we’ve got them all between us but I need to know his stance.”

“Will him retreating affect that?” I asked and Joffrey shrugged before almost hesitantly shaking his head. I settled back into my chair for a moment and let my eyes flicker shut. It was easy to forget. Easy to forget his men were here among us, easy to forget he was out there somewhere just waiting for a chance to return, easy to forget that we could barely establish his location, nevermind what he was doing that was causing people to flee before him… It should not be. It should taunt my every waking moment but it didn’t. He had haunted my nightmares for so long, I should be terrified. When I thought about it I was, but other times, times spent attending to even the simplest of matters, it slipped from my mind.

“Keep looking,” I rasped, opening my eyes and he nodded. “As for Larys, don’t let your guard down but don’t let him send you scrambling. Use the time before we leave to make damn sure your network is secure.”

“I’ll watch him very closely,” promised Maris and I winced at the reminder she was staying here.

“How do you intend that, Lady Strong?” asked Corlys. 

“Harwin and I will be paying visits to our dear father… we wouldn’t want him to get lonely and fall prey to… unsavoury whispers.” Her eyes lit up a little uncomfortably at that.

“And what are we doing about Aegon?” asked Joffrey as even Corlys looked uncomfortable at Maris’ savage, internal mirth. 

“He is in a tail-spin,” I told them, earning only blank looks in turn. I frowned… thirty years and still these turns of phrase crept up. “He’s frequently drunk and not attending to political matters. Let him burn his own faction.”

“And if he recovers? Comes to the conclusion he must be more ruthless to match his grasping elder sister?” asked Corlys, getting too much enjoyment from the insult. I frowned at him.

“Keep pushing him,” said Maris before I could take him to task. “Have a bard sing about naked prince Aegon. Let everyone know Aegon the Arrogant turned down the land that had held Kings… I don’t know.”

“We can’t do that!” I said it before I could stop myself and received three raised eyebrows in turn. “He is my brother, I don’t want to see him so hurt-”

“You can not afford not to. The Greens have been struck a massive blow. Alicent in particular will struggle to maintain hold of even her loyal members after that show in the Throne Room. If Aegon recovers and emerges as a leader in these times, he could salvage the mess his mother has made.” Corlys’ analysis made sense, but all I could see was a younger Aegon, miserable as the court mocked him. I had always demanded my Blacks go easy on the rumours, to never say anything to his face… this would be a reversal and he would know it. He would know there was no way I hadn’t ordered it.

“Then that will only further push him from the Green faction leadership,” said Maris when I said as much.

“Or galvanise him,” suggested Joffrey. “He has believed for a long time that Rhaenyra was some innocent caught up in Viserys’ schemes. He has only just been rudely awakened to the fact-”

“Then he will know that this is a consequence of him acting so openly, and that Rhaenyra was able to do so before but chose not to out of her sense of familial duty. A duty that went out of the window when he announced his intentions to usurp her in her own front room,” argued Maris.

“It’s actually my front room,” murmured Corlys, mostly out of a sense of obligation, I think. No one listened. 

“Going too far could have consequences,” I said slowly. “Use the incident with Maris, Joffrey, but not his refusal of Oldstones. If he confronts me, I will make it clear he is now my political rival and will be treated as such.”

Both Maris and Joffrey gave me a nod and Corlys smiled, evidently pleased with something about that statement. I couldn’t bring myself to feel their approval.

“Onto other matters?” he suggested after a moment.

“Quite,” I replied, remembering an errant thought from Dragonstone. “I wish to speak about Luke.”

“Luke?” said Joffrey, looking puzzled. “About his hand? I assure you-”

“Not his hand,” I replied dryly. “His education.”

“His education,” said Joffrey, more cautious than confused now. “He receives an education worthy of your own children.”

“Indeed he does but most people view him as a hanger on. If we want him to rule by Aliandra’s side, he needs to establish his own reputation.” Joffrey frowned deeply at that but nodded. He didn’t like it, but he knew the power of public perception better than any in my little circle. “I propose he squire.”

“He’s squiring for me,” Joffrey protested, a slight whine in his voice. I took a deep breath and steeled myself, but I needn’t have bothered.

“Joffrey, you’re a clever man. Don’t make the Princess upset herself,” Corlys said, eyes narrowed as Joffrey glared at him. At my apologetic look, he deflated a little and my heart hurt.

“It is not your injury,” I protested. “It is your, and Laena’s, reputation.”

“Black ones, on your behalf,” he muttered, then he closed his eyes and sighed when he saw my flinch. “That was unfair.”

“It was fair enough. If it helps, I have an excellent tutor in mind for him.” Maris’ face lit up in a smile as she understood before any my plan for Luke. Joffrey raised his head, his smile strained.

“Tell me, who has the honour? I will refuse if he is not good enough for him.” I let my gaze travel to Corlys, who blinked in surprise before smiling.

“I’d be happy to take him… just, what do you suppose we’d do for the Progress?” he asked and my heart sunk. That was true. He could not fly back and forth…

“He would have to stay here,” said Joffrey. “Fly to see us when free… perhaps this is for the best.”

That surprised me. Maris and Corlys too. Joffrey gave us a thin smile.

“Some time apart from Aliandra may do them some good, and Rhaenyra can not afford to not take her to Dorne. Not to mention… well, we try our best with him, but he is-”

“A pain in the neck?” I suggested, and Joffrey rolled his eyes.

“A pain in the hand, more like,” japed Maris and that actually got a smile out of Joffrey. Luke was feeling very sorry for himself at the moment, his hand bound with cloth and his wound stitched and painful. Corlys said nothing, he was intent on Joffrey.

“If Laena agrees,” said Joffrey, finally. “I will give my permission.”


	195. Preparation - Chapter 169

I was beginning to think my daughter did not have any real interests outside of books. I watched, smile plastered over my face as Aliandra passed over a book on old tales from Dorne with a bemused look. As Aemma took it with a squeal of happiness, I let my eyes slide over to the pile of existing books she already had. I winced without meaning to. Laenor and I had brought her some books regarding folktales and myths, Laena and Joffrey had handed over books on dragons, Rhaenys and Corlys the illustrated version of his adventures (blown far out of proportion I was sure)… and I could see the books Jeyne and Alysanne each held.

I should get her something other than a book, although I was at a loss as to what. The only mount she rode was Dreamfyre, she detested martial pursuits, she was decent at art but held no particular love for it… flying or reading. Perhaps she would find some other hobby on our Progress? Surely it couldn’t be all books, all the time. A memory tickled at the back of my head as Aemma threw her arms about Aliandra’s neck before turning to Jeyne.

I hadn’t liked much beyond reading during my first childhood? I remembered books… that had been escapism though. Guilt surged momentarily. What did Aemma want to escape from so much that books would be her world, as they were mine in another life? 

No one else seemed to share my trepidation, though, least of all Aemma herself who was now enthralled with Alysanne’s gift. Everyone had that benevolent smile on their face as they gazed at her laugh in delight whenever she found a tale that interested her. Luke’s gift was the last to be presented, another book, and I could barely bring myself to pay attention to what it even concerned. 

At least she was happy, I suppose?

“Have you heard anything from father?” I asked Corlys as the gift giving ended and the children began their usual scramble to examine the gifts. Jocelyn was hanging back, looking unsure, I noted with annoyance. Her rest had done wonders for her, but it seemed she’d never get along with voluntarily reading something.

“Not since the last time you asked,” said Corlys dryly. “You need not worry, I have organised the feast and he has not sent word that he is unable to make the celebration.”

I clucked my tongue. This was Aemma’s seventh birthday and he hadn’t bothered to even pretend to organise the festivities this time, instead putting it all off on Corlys. Silence from the royal household continued, of course. No hint as to what was happening with Alicent or her children.

“It will be fine,” said Rhaenys, her face earnest but worn. An early flight from Driftmark would do that, I supposed. 

“Here I thought you’d want to knock some sense into him,” I murmured. Rhaenys smiled with little joy in it. I saw sorrow more than I saw satisfaction.

“He has learnt the truth of his wife,” she said finally. “I won’t pretend to be unhappy, but I take no joy in his grief.”

“Nobody takes joy in his grief,” I protested quietly. “I just… dislike his moping, his silence.”

“He’s retreated into himself as he always does,” she replied, violet eyes distant. Then she sighed. “I will speak to him.”

“Thank you.” I was startled to find that made me feel marginally better about it. That he should have someone he could lean on that wasn’t Alicent or I, that didn’t make him feel a traitor to the other. “I did try…”

“I know,” she said, as if she had read my mind. Corlys dropped a comforting hand onto my shoulder. Rhaenys shot him an affectionate look.

“Sometimes all we can do is our best,” he said, the last of his words almost being drowned out by raucous laughter from the children as they found something extremely amusing in one of Aemma’s gifts. I caught Laenor’s eye and he gave me a little grin, getting up to investigate what could have so many young people so giggly. No doubt something entirely age inappropriate.

Laena caught my eye as I went to engage Corlys and Rhaenys once more, nodding her head to the door. I suppressed a sigh. I had been expecting this sooner… I got up and picked my way through the children, giving Laenor the chance to pluck the book from Aemma’s hands. She gave a shout and my husband soon drowned in children attempting to steal it back, Joffrey shouting advice at him interspersed with laughter as Aemma clambered onto his back. I shut the door on the racket with a smile.

“Well,” I said. She pursed her lips.

“Father?” she asked, finally. “Do you truly think that is appropriate?”

“The Hand of the King,” I reminded her. “Your son will be Prince-consort of Dorne one day.”

“He will not take being left behind well,” she insisted. “Surely we can save this until after the Progress?”

“We can not,” I told her. “We will be gone for a long time…. Still, it is up to you. I can not control your parenting decisions.”

“Why not?” she asked, tone bitter. “You parent Rhaena and Luke as much as I do. More.”

She cut me off when I opened my mouth to respond tartly to that, waving one hand back and forth as she pinched the bridge of her nose with the other, keeping my obvious response unsaid, and perhaps for the better.

“Ignore me,” she said, her tone lighter. “I am… I did not sleep well. I am thankful you care for my children as much as you do.”

“You’re still being a bitch,” I told her and she flushed. “But so am I. I shouldn’t expect to snap my fingers and decide where your son needs to be and when.”

“Point,” she mumbled. “I just… I can not look him in the eye and tell him he is being left behind by all his friends. I don’t want him to hate me.”

‘Again’ went unsaid. If anyone had abandonment issues, it was Luke. I bit my lip.

“He has a dragon,” I reminded her. “His mother and grandmother close by…”

“He will still take it badly,” she sighed. Then she took a deep breath, held it for a few moments and let it out slowly. From within the room, the children cheered wildly, presumably as they successfully reacquired the book. “Joffrey thinks it will be good for him.”

“And do you?” I asked. She nodded, reluctantly.

“He has been at something of a loose end recently. Restless.” The knife trick was probably part of that, I realised. “Luke isn’t all I wanted to talk to you about. Well, it’s related…”

She’s babbling, I realised. Embarrassment? 

“Go on,” I said slowly and she caught a stray ringlet, tossing it over her shoulder. She must have had her hair done recently, I realised. For Aemma’s feast? If it even went ahead, that was.

“I am leaving today. With Joffrey.” My mind went blank as noise from the room grew again. She struggled with the words momentarily before sighing. “There is no way to say this that won’t have you absolutely furious so I’ll just say it outright… I lied to you.”

“What?” I asked, mind not quite working, not quite processing the sudden turn this had taken. “You… what did you lie about?”

I searched my mind. Magic? Her experiments? Had she found something and kept it from me-

“Do you remember my leg?” she asked. My mind’s eye supplied the bite as it had been the day I’d first seen it. Angry red on pale skin, clearly infected.

“Gerardys gave you the all clear,” I said, even as I realised I only had her word for that. “You were still sick!”

She gave me a half-smile, shrugging. It was enough for me to take it as admission and anger welled up inside me.

“You ran up the Dragonmont on a bad leg,” I growled. Gods, she’d not just put herself in terrible danger, but Aemon too! “How? Why? Why not tell me?”

“Pride,” she told me, and her tone was one of self-mockery. “Too proud, too stubborn, too much like my father and mother.”

“And Joffrey?” I asked, anger edging my tone. “Has he been lying to me?”

“No!” She shook her head violently and I let out a small breath of relief at that. “He knew I was going to see Gerardys and… and asked to go with me. He wants to see if a brace would help his leg.”

“I see,” I said, still trying to pull my feelings into something… recognisable. She lied to me. She lied about how well she was to me. Out of pride, as she said? Or was it obligation, a desire to not be seen as a burden? I knew she would never admit it if that were the case, and she had insisted on it pride far too flippantly. The door opened and Joffrey’s head popped out, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“Is everything well out here?” he asked, eyes flicking between the two of us. “The children are wondering where you got to.”

“Discussing health matters,” I said dryly. He flushed.

“Ah,” he said. “Laena told you about our trip.”

“She did,” I managed to say through gritted teeth. He directed a look of sympathy at her and I think that was the softest look I’d seen him give her in a long time. Her smile was strained in return.

“Well,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Good luck.”

Then he was gone before I could take him to task on that. I ran an agitated hand through my hair, grimacing when my prosthetic got trapped in part of the braid. If Laena saw, she didn’t say, but the whole matter sent my temper flaring just a little higher.

“You’re going on bed rest,” I told her. “Nothing until Gerardys clears you-”

“I’m coming with you,” she argued, shaking her head. “I… I know I shouldn’t, especially now Luke is staying but… I want to travel. I want to see Westeros again. I know it’s selfish.”

Relief and annoyance in equal measure now. Why was she so good at this? So good at turning me into a mess?

“Still, bed rest,” I croaked, voice thick with emotion. “No gallivanting off, you stay with us and you rest, and if we’re travelling on land you’re staying in a wheelhouse.”

Perhaps she saw the moment my annoyance eased because she smiled, tentative and hopeful.

“No gallivanting,” she promised. “He says if I don’t start taking it easy, my leg could be like mother’s and I can’t… I can’t heal myself.”

“I did wonder about that?” I admitted. “Is it a matter of knowledge or-”

She shook her head.

“A bit. It’s possible but… not.” At my frown, she forged on. “Magic breaks rules. You apply rules to magic and they get broken once again. Nothing is impossible with magic, but there are degrees of that. I haven’t found any record of self-healing.”

“Could one of us do it?” She shook her head and I hated that I felt relief at that.

“It’s difficult. Honestly, I shouldn’t have learnt it, I wanted to focus on dragons, but I wanted so desperately to have Rhaena-” I cut her off there.

“You healed yourself then, though?” She gave me a rueful smile.

“I did not. I… it’s hard to describe. I healed Rhaena… sort of. It’s hard to describe magic to someone that doesn’t use it,” she told me, desperate eyes seeking mine as if she could convince me with her gaze alone. I brought my arms up to rest on her shoulders and took a deep breath, letting go of my annoyance as I let it out. Annoyance, anger, would not serve me well. Laena needed comfort, she needed her lover, not her princess going berserk.

“Then I will ensure you get the rest you need to not end up limping,” I told her. She smiled. An idea struck me then, bringing glee with it. “Perhaps I shall assign Falena to your care?”

“Rhaenyra, no,” she said sternly. The idea had me giggling. Which set her off naturally. 

“I am!” I assured her. “I shall tell her to wrestle you into bed if I must!”

“No,” gasped Laena through giggles. We were both slightly hysterical, the one sane part of my brain supplied. The idea of letting Fal loose on Laena was just too good, though. “She’ll be lecturing me every moment she gets.”

“A captive-”

Banging on the front door that echoed throughout the manse was like a bucket of ice drenching us both, and the mirth died instantly as we eyed one another nervously. Then came the yelling… someone yelling for me, and I was moving towards the stairs before I could stop myself, vaguely aware of Laenor stepping out of the room. The yelling increased in volume, and I realised who it was, speeding up. So did Laena and Laenor.

By the time I had reached the foyer, the servants had let Aemond in. There was a wild look to his eyes as he gazed at me, panting for breath as if he’d sprinted here instead of taking a horse. 

“You have to help!” he gasped, sounding as if even speaking was an issue. “Mother is taking Daeron and Viserra away!”


	196. Preparation - Chapter 170

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has been commenting! I haven't been able to reply much in recent weeks due to the various problems but I am reading those comments and I am very grateful to everyone! :)

It was surprising to me that the Keep was so calm when I arrived. Something like the Queen packing her bags and leaving should have the whole household abuzz, but the air was subdued, calm… perhaps that was wrong. Perhaps tense was a better word. I did not miss the Redwyne men lurking about. No doubt there was a ship waiting for my dear stepmother in the port. Aemond gave me little time to think on the matter either way, as he all but charged the royal apartments, caring little for those who were forced to leap out of his way. I had not gotten much out of him beyond that first panicked announcement. Only that Helaena had sent him, in a panic herself. I followed in his wake, mentally cursing that all my siblings should be taller than me. He didn’t even wait to be announced before he nearly knocked Ser Rickard Thorne from his feet in his haste to enter the apartments.

“Rhaenyra!” cried Helaena as I entered, fighting for breath. She stood in the centre of the room, servants a whirlwind of moving and packing around her. She looked lost, wide eyed and clutching Rhaekar to her as if she feared someone might try and take him. I didn’t hesitate. I crossed to her and pulled her close, ignoring Rhaekar’s fussing at being disturbed from his sleep.

“What is going on?” I asked, hating how I could barely draw breath and how my throat and lungs hurt with the effort I’d put in. By the gods, I had gotten lazy these past few years.

“Mother is leaving,” whispered Helaena. The confirmation hit me like a punch to the gut and I wasn’t sure what I had expected, truly. That it was political in nature was a given, but to go through with her threat? To leave as Larys had done… “She is insisting Daeron and Viserra go with her.”

I took a deep breath and nearly choked as my lungs registered their complaints. 

“Do you…” I paused and cleared my throat. “Do Daeron and Viserra even wish to go?”

“It doesn’t matter!” barked Aemond. “They belong here, with us! Not with her!”

I let Helaena go, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. She offered me a pained smile but I could see the issue wasn’t so cut and dry for her. Her eyes were distant, as if she wanted to cry but couldn’t for whatever reason. Her shoulders hunched over as if she were curling in to herself, or curling around Rhaekar… my heart panged and I forced myself to direct my gaze at Aemond. He was flushed and angry, looking at me like I could solve everything.

“What would you have me do, Aemond?” I asked him. His gaze dropped to the floor, his ears going red as his hands balled into fists before uncurling again and again. He did not know what he wanted me to do anymore than I knew what I could do. Instead I took another deep breath, thankfully without pain this time and stepped towards Alicent’s rooms. “Calm down and follow me. If you are unable to keep your temper, stay here with Helaena.”

I heard him shift in surprise at that but he fell in behind me quickly enough. I turned to him, summoning a stern look.

“I mean it,” I warned. “No outbursts.”

“I understand,” he protested, his eyes flashing with annoyance. I was pushing it, I realised. 

“Helaena,” I called, hand on the door. She glanced up from Rhaekar, looking startled and a little lost once more. “Take Rhaekar to the manse and give your niece her nameday greetings.”

She stared at me, brow furrowed in confusion. I raised an eyebrow at her and she glanced down at Rhaekar again. The boy had begun dozing in her arms. For a moment, I thought she’d say no or argue or something. Instead she kind of… slumped and left the room, as if some great weight was clawing at her. I frowned.

“Why?” asked Aemond. I could hear the frustration and the anger… “She should be here!”

“She’s not handling this well. Your mother can be nasty when riled and I will not have her target Helaena or Rhaekar.” He was silent at that, as if he wanted to argue the point but knew I was right. “As for sending her to the manse… I do not want her alone. Family is important, is it not?”

At that, he did flush. I offered him a little smile and he nodded. Too focused on the matter at hand to smile back, but I’d gotten my point across. There was little more to say so I turned and threw open the doors that led to Alicent’s rooms, shouting growing louder. Father’s voice and Daeron’s, Alicent’s shrill scream in return and the occasional interjection from Aegon’s low, calm and very muffled voice.

“- humiliated me before the entire realm! No more!” Alicent was screaming when I entered, flanked by Aemond as if he were the Dragonknight himself. Her next point was cut off as she stared at me as if she could not quite believe her eyes. In the corner, Viserra and Daeron huddled, sheltering from the storm of their parents’ anger. Father stood opposite, between her and the door. Aegon had taken the middle ground, his face a mask of calm concern.

“Sister!” cried Aegon, his calm demeanour falling for a moment when he spotted me. “What- Aemond! What have you done?”

“I fetched her because you will not defend our siblings!” Aemond barked back and Aegon recoiled as if Aemond had just physically struck at him.

“I will not abide this harlot here!” said Alicent finally, her voice choked with rage. Father turned, his face full of anger.

“Rhaenyra,” he said in a low voice. “Now is not the time.”

“Now is precisely the time. You seem to have forgotten my siblings huddled in the corner in what looks like fear.” Neither King nor Queen reacted to that but Aegon flushed guiltily and Aemond crossed to them quickly, kneeling before them and murmuring reassurances I couldn’t quite hear. I took the silence as an opportunity and stepped further into the room, heart hammering in my chest.

This was dangerous, I realised. One misstep here and father would be furious with me for a very, very long time. Yet the sheer desperation in Aemond’s eyes haunted me, as did the lost look my little sister had given me.

“You are leaving,” I said to Alicent. “You, alone. You do not need to steal away my siblings from their lives out of a desire to hurt those around you.”

“Rhaenyra,” cried Aegon, his voice full of dismay. “Mother would never do such a thing! Father, how could you-”

“Oh, she would,” snapped Aemond and Aegon paused again to glare at him.

“They want to come with me,” said Alicent, her voice full of triumph. I could believe that, I realised. Daeron and Viserra had always been closer to her…

“Aemond will not,” I replied, stepping past father. He looked as if he wanted to reach and stop me but couldn’t bring himself to. He looked… defeated. “Who will Daeron squire with then?”

“There are many fine knights in Oldtown,” snapped Alicent. “He will not suffer.”

“How many of those knights ride dragons?” asked Aemond. “How many can teach him to ride Tessarion?”

“Dragon riding is not that important,” snorted Aegon. “It is knightly virtue and-”

“It’s skill! Knightly virtue is nothing without skill!” yelled Aemond.

“Enough, Aegon, Aemond,” said father, looking like a drowning man grasping a lifeline. That boded well, at least. “My daughter raises a point, Alicent.”

“You stole away my first three, you shall not steal away Daeron or Viserra!” she screeched, starting to move towards them as if she wanted to grab at them. Aemond moved to stand in her way and she stopped dead. She peered past him at them. “Well?”

Daeron hesitated, his eyes flickering up to Aemond and then to his eldest brother. He was torn and everyone could see it. Viserra grasped at his hand, his fingers going almost white in her clutch. Once Aemond had laid down the law and Daeron had come to know what was expected of him, he had flourished under Aemond’s care, and Tessarion was no small part of that. The dragon was worthy of its name, even if Vermax took the true prize, and Daeron had always been ridiculously proud of his mount. The idea of squiring for a knight who would not understand that…

“I… I…” At his stammering, Alicent’s eyes narrowed and he squirmed, looking ashamed. The answer was written clear across his face.

“It is clear he wishes to stay,” said father. “Aemond has proved himself a fine knight and there is no finer man to guide Daeron.”

Aemond flushed at the praise, as if he had not been expecting it. I bit back what I wanted to say as Alicent seemed to flounder at that. Aegon wanted to protest, I could tell. Was Maris right? Had she done all this to get Aegon on board? He seemed to want to fight her corner at least - as long as it didn’t include going against Aemond, it seemed. Frustration ran through me. Was this him stepping up, taking the reins from her? Damn it all, I couldn’t think about this now.

“I can think of no one finer,” I said, earning a nod from father. “Can you, Aegon?”

The look he sent me told me I’d hit the mark. He wouldn’t defend Alicent by trashing Aemond. He nodded, finally, and Alicent’s eyes blazed.

“So you steal my last son from me,” she hissed and father flinched at the sheer hatred there. I kept my mouth shut as she rounded on her two youngest again and Daeron almost cowered backwards. Would have done, I think, had Aemond not laid a hand on his shoulder. “Viserra?” 

The girl blinked, peering at Daeron and looking pained. It was her brother she’d stay for, if she indeed stayed, but I wasn’t sure that would be enough-

“I want to go with mother,” she said in a quiet voice. Alicent nodded, her lips quirking up, but I could tell the victory was tainted for her. “I want… I want to see the Citadel. I want to read there.”

The last part was directed at father and his expression softened, grief and love in equal measure, and my heart hurt to see it on his face. Even one child being ripped away from him was going to hurt. Sending Aegon, Aemond and Helaena away had pained him greatly… This was worse, in its own way, I think.

“I shall ensure you have royal dispensation to read whatever book you like,” he promised. “Even if I have to send knights down there myself.”

Viserra nodded solemnly and then wriggled out from behind Aemond, flinging herself at father. He lifted her up and she buried her face in his shoulder, her little hands gripping his doublet as she shook. Alicent stared, as if she had somehow not seen Viserra’s grief coming. There was no guilt in her features, though. Did she regret marrying father? Had she ever even loved him? I hoped, suddenly, that she had. I hoped she had because father deserved that at least. Alicent deserved to feel pain for this, and I hoped she had some memories that would pain her in the dead of night.

Vicious anger welled up in me with those thoughts as father stroked Viserra’s hair, telling her all about the grandeur of Oldtown and how she should behave for her mother. I studied Alicent’s face, hoping to see pain… something, even if just for a moment. She just continued staring until eventually father lowered Viserra down, kneeling to get to her level as my youngest sister sniffled and rubbed at her eyes.

Aegon looked guilty, I realised. I switched my gaze to his face as Daeron left Aemond’s side as well to hug Viserra fiercely. She let him, clinging to him in turn as he promised to write to her every week and as she promised the same. My head hurt. My eyes burned. Hy heart ached. I wanted to hurt her for this. I wanted her to suffer. I kept my face blank as I raised my hand to my nose, pushing at it in some vain effort to get the pressure to let up. I wanted to demand answers from her, from Aegon, but the quiet murmuring of Daeron and Viserra kept me rooted to the spot and my mouth clenched shut until my jaw ached with the effort of it.

“I will instruct the servants to unpack Daeron’s things,” rasped Aemond suddenly. For a moment Alicent looked like she wanted to protest, but then she slumped and the pain on her face then did nothing but hurt more, for some reason. Aegon watched his brother leave before running a hand through his hair, looking agitated. Father got to his feet once more.

“Then there is little more to be done here,” he rasped, looking weary again. “I bid you goodbye, my Queen.”

“Goodbye, Viserys,” she replied. There was grief there, at least. I waited until he was gone before turning to Aegon, ignoring Alicent entirely. He looked almost nervous for a second before he straightened up and met my gaze with a determined one of his own.

“I hope it was worth it,” I told him. He didn’t have to ask what it was. It was the destruction of our family. The shattering of our father’s emotions. It was separating Daeron and Viserra and throwing his lot in with his mother after all she had done, spitting in the face of all of his siblings that had rallied to him because he’d wanted to take a stand. 

“She is my mother,” said Aegon, and Alicent’s gaze softened as she moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch but he certainly stiffened up. Not entirely made up, then. “She asked for my forgiveness.”

“And you forgave her,” I replied, aware that Daeron and Viserra were watching the display with wide eyes. “That is your prerogative, of course. I can only hope Aemond and Helaena feel the same.”

He flinched and I knew it was because they did not. The victory did not bring satisfaction. I let my eyes drift to Alicent. She was biting her lip with the effort of not saying anything, letting Aegon take the lead… of course, I had played into her hands, I supposed. Push Aegon into accepting his mother once more as his relationship with his sisters, and likely Aemond, shattered over Oldstones and his behaviour after.

“You didn’t give me a choice,” he whined, sounding almost like the child he once was. “You would ruin me! Steal my birthright.”

“It was never yours.” Alicent nearly said something then, her eyes lit up and her mouth opened before she remembered herself and stopped. “Tell me, have you abandoned this farce of a council yet?”

He took a deep breath and then hesitated. The surprise hit me fast enough that I knew he saw it on my face.

“There will be a council,” he promised. “I have not dropped that, but it will be a council I will win, sister. You were right, I did lie to myself. I dressed it all up in duty and law, but the fact is, I do wish to be King. So I will make sure there is a council, and I will make sure I win it.”

“And when there isn’t?” I asked. “Don’t answer that. You will find some excuse to rise. I see.”

“You should not be a stranger to underhandedness,” he bit out. Ah, the bards. I went to reply but he forged on. “I will be accompanying my mother to Oldtown, to ensure she’s settled in there. Perhaps we shall meet when you get there on your Progress? I hope our tempers will have cooled enough to speak as siblings would by then.”

“My temper is as cool as ever,” I lied before letting a sneer of contempt enter my tone. “As for my Progress, we shall see. I wish you all the luck in finding men to follow you in Oldtown, brother.”


	197. Interlude - Jocelyn

She hit the dirt.

Again.

Ser Steffon stood over her, face unimpressed as she scrambled to her feet and made for the weapon he had so recently relieved her of.

“You should have dodged that,” he pointed out calmly, disappointment still present, though. She wanted to snap at him. Snap that she was tired, that she hurt, that it was Aemma’s nameday and aunt Helaena was here and she couldn’t even join in because she had to do- She leapt away as Ser Steffon grew tired of waiting and pressed her once again. One dodge, a botched parry leading into a stumble… the dirt.

Again.

“I wasn’t ready!” she protested, getting up and wincing as her body ached. Tears threatened and she refused to let them fall, clenching her jaw until it hurt. Ser Steffon studied her before snorting.

“You won’t be allowed to say that in a real fight,” he told her, shifting to press his attack once more. This time, she managed to aim a clumsy strike at his torso when he went high but she still ate dirt in the end. His still calm but disappointed tone sent anger tearing through her and she clenched her jaw once more, making her teeth ache, as she clambered to her feet. “An improvement.”

The tone made it clear there was no praise in the admission. Tears threatened again and she rubbed at her face. She was one and ten. Not a child. Not a baby to cry because things weren’t going her way. 

“Ser Steffon!” The knight turned to find Aemon bearing down on them, his grin wide. She blinked when she got a second look at him… she was pretty sure that a wooden sword and mock-pirate hat were not his usual clothing. Aemma, she realised with a little smile. She must have press-ganged everyone into playing her games and acting out her tales. For a moment, she was glad that Ser Steffon had insisted on some lessons today, until her ribs twinged painfully where the padding had not quite protected them.

“Prince Aemon, come to brush up your own skills?” asked Ser Steffon, his face relaxing into a fond smile. She tried not to resent her brother for that. Aemon was… everything she was not.

“No, Ser,” he said politely. “Papa says mama will be back soon, and she will be furious with us all if we aren’t dressed.”

Which meant putting on the awful, itchy dresses that left her feeling out of place and wrong. Dresses that were almost always designed to look best on Alyssa… she scowled and then chastised herself again. Mama had made it clear she could pick her own dresses, it was just so hard to remember! Hard to focus on when there were other, more fun things she could be doing. It was easier to go along with Alyssa’s picks after the fact.

Mama didn’t understand, and she could barely put it into words herself. That terrible boredom that pushed her to move, that wouldn’t let her be. Her siblings would be able to put it into words. Not her. Why was it that the words just wouldn’t stay still for her? As if she passed on that need to move just by touching the pages. Even Aemma could read by now, and she had been the youngest. 

“- have to set up a practice match between you and my squire here.” She blinked as she caught the tail end of their conversation. Aemon was smiling broadly at them both. Anger stirred in her again. Perfect Aemon. The thought was bitter and she cursed at herself. Why was she like this, today of all days? Mama would be angry if she spent all of Aemma’s feast in a mood. Ser Steffon turned to her as she bent and scooped her practice blade from the grass. She wanted to scream at his critical eye. She was doing her best!

“Go then,” he said. “Get cleaned up and don’t embarrass me with your conduct, squire.”

Briefly, she longed for the days before the melee when Ser Steffon had given her tips and helped her practice in secret, laughing all the while. Now it was just this firm coldness. Mama had warned her, though. She had warned her, but she had been stupid Jocelyn, so convinced she was right, that if she could just win and prove- Well, she had won and proved herself an idiot besides. She wanted to go to her room. She wanted to sleep. Instead, she forced herself to bow in Ser Steffon’s direction.

“Thank you, Ser,” she murmured politely and he nodded. Who had mama taken to the Keep? Ser Erryk had the day off…

“Don’t worry, Jo,” said Aemon, smiling as Ser Steffon left them. “Mama won’t be back for ages yet, papa says. You can have a nap before you have to get dressed. Alyssa says she’ll cover for you.”

Guilt at her earlier bitter thoughts flooded her as she pulled her little brother close. Aemon was like that. He understood people. Maybe not quite as well as Alyssa did, but he had a kindness about him that it hurt to admit her twin lacked. He snorted into her shoulder and wriggled away, cheeks aglow with embarrassment. She’d knocked his pirate hat askew and he corrected it with a huff, nearly hitting himself with the wooden sword he carried in the process. Something eased in her then, and the guilt, the bitterness left her and she laughed.

“I can play the knight for Aemma on her nameday,” she confessed and Aemon grinned. 

“We were rescuing the prince from the pirate king last I checked,” he told her as they made their way inside.

“Oh, were you the pirate king?” she asked.

“Uncle Joff,” Aemon told her. “Papa is the prince and I was fighting the brave Ser Luke.”

She laughed, picturing it. No doubt Aemma had been dictating the tale from on high, Rhaena switching sides from brother to father whenever she felt like it… what side was Rolph on? She blinked at that. Where had that come from? She was prevented from examining the thought by her mama throwing open the doors to the foyer, her cheeks red with rage. She swallowed. She had accused papa of loving a woman who wasn’t her mama - why had she done that? Stupid, stupid Jocelyn- and even that hadn’t gotten such a reaction. 

She paused when she saw them both there, breathing heavily. She wanted to tremble as mama’s gaze swung from Aemon to her and back again, but she was rooted to the floor, as if by not moving she wouldn’t manage to mess something up and bring that wrath down on her.

“I thought I gave you the day off.” The voice was accusing but for the first time, it didn’t bring anger to her throat, but a desire to run, to not be seen. Would her mama extend her punishment if she said the wrong thing? 

“A half-day,” she said and cursed her wobbly voice. Something changed then, her mama blinked as if waking from a daze, swooping down upon her. She wanted to protest. Mama always wore such nice dresses and she was covered in sweat and mud, but mama didn’t seem to mind as she pulled her close.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You did not deserve that.”

She wanted to argue that she did. That she was not a good girl, not like Aemma was. She couldn’t be Aemon or Alyssa, and she let herself get angry too much, she didn’t look after Ronard as well as she should, she took naps when she wasn’t supposed to-

“Go,” Mama whispered, dropping a kiss to a cheek. “Get yourself cleaned up and change into some more comfortable clothes.”

“A dress?” she asked. Oh, how she hated dresses. “Or should I change later than that?”

“Comfortable clothes,” said her mama. “No dress if you do not wish to. Aemon?”

“Yes, mama?” Oh! He had been there the entire time. Somehow that made everything worse and she wanted to cry again. Why was she like this?

“Could you fetch Aemma for me? And your father and uncle too?” asked mama, letting her go. She wanted to protest, to throw herself back back into her arms and stay there a little more. This was Aemma’s day, though. Not hers. So she left. Mama didn’t seem to notice, too lost in thought.

There was a bath waiting for her in her rooms and a maid to help her. She had never been sure why she needed a maid to help her bathe. She wasn’t a child in danger of drowning herself anymore. Still, the maid refused to leave. Previous experience told Jocelyn the maid would not leave even if she snapped and raged at her, so she let the woman do her work. Afterwards, she dressed in a shirt and breeches, worry working its way through her thoughts. Her mother did not ‘test’ her? Why then was she worried that this was a test? She sat on the bed and relished being clean for a moment before laying down, giving into her aching body just for a second…

It was late afternoon when she awoke, too warm, with eyes full of sleep. It only took a moment before panic surged through her. The feast! Aemma’s nameday! She nearly tripped in her haste to race from the room. Mama would be furious! Had she gone and left her? It would serve her right for doing something so stupid as to fall asleep! 

“Princess Jocelyn!” barked Septa Leyla and she froze as the woman advanced on her. “Why are you racing about the hallways like some unmannered urchin? You know well that running in the manse is forbidden.”

“M’late?” she managed to say, out of breath. Septa Leyla paused, then her gaze softened.

“Dinner is not for an hour yet, Princess. The feast has been cancelled.” That sent horror through her. Was that why mama had been so angry? And she hadn’t even asked! Poor Aemma…

“Where is… is Aemma okay?” she asked and the Septa frowned. She hated that word. 

“Your sister has spent the entire day putting on a production of the Battle of the Thousand Islands,” she said dryly, and Jocelyn sighed in relief. Aemma wouldn’t be too upset then, not if she got to continue her play. “I believe they are all taking advantage of the sun in the gardens.”

“Thank you, Septa,” she said, remembering her manners. Mama had always insisted on remembering manners to everyone, even if they were a servant. The Septa smiled anyway and left. She set off at a more sedate trot, wanting to run but knowing that Septa Leyla would explode if she was caught doing it again after being caught. It made her itch sometimes, not being able to run or jump or yell.

“Jocelyn!” She had nearly reached the garden when she ran into mama, uncle Joff and grandpapa. “Dinner isn’t for a while yet, you could have slept a little more.”

She flushed.

“I think she’d have to know the feast was cancelled first,” said uncle Joff. “I’m guessing you didn’t see the note?”

Had there been a note? She couldn’t remember… Mama just sighed before reaching out and pulling her close. Through the open door, the sound of Rhaena’s battle cry drifted through and she forced herself to ignore the want to go and play. Mama was hugging her.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier,” she whispered again. “I have arranged with Steffon for you to have tomorrow off as well.”

“Thank you,” she whispered back, already imagining a day of nothing but her bed and snacks. Uncle Joff chuckled but she ignored him. Finally, mama let her go.

“Go play! I have the final parts of dinner to arrange.” She left them chatting and stepped outside into the sun… only to be ambushed by Ronard, the little dog barking joyfully. She grinned and bent down, making a show of missing him as he danced away from her hands every time. Eventually he stopped and let her pet him, his tongue out as he panted away.

“Jocelyn!” She glanced up to find aunt Laena, dressed in her riding gear, beaming down at her. “I was just coming to find you.”

“You were?” she asked, confused.

“Yes, I wanted to say my goodbyes.” That she didn’t understand? Had someone told her aunt Laena was leaving again? “I’m off to take your dear uncle to Gerardys. A few days at most.”

“Oh!” That made sense! Maybe she hadn’t been told then. She let aunt Laena envelop her in a tight hug. Hugging aunt Laena was different from hugging mama. She laughed out loud and aunt Laena decided to go one further and lift her into the air, grinning.

“Keep an eye on Luke for me? He’s likely to cause trouble,” chuckled Laena. “And make sure Alyssa practises regularly.”

“You could tell mama this,” she pointed out as aunt Laena lowered her again.

“Your mama has enough on her plate. Besides, I need someone I can trust!” Even though she knew aunt Laena was only humouring her, the statement brought a fierce pride to her chest and she nodded seriously. “Good girl.”

“Oh! Jocelyn is here! Jocelyn, I need another pirate!” Aunt Laena gave her a wicked grin and then a light shove towards where Aemma was waving. Had she imagined her whispering ‘good luck’? Ah well, it was Aemma’s nameday, and she deserved to boss people around today of all days.


	198. The Stormlands - Chapter 171

“That was a cruel thing to do to Laena, Rhaenyra,” came Sera’s voice. I turned, smiling despite myself, and found her approaching, a smile playing around her own mouth as she tried and failed to look stern.

“Was it?” I asked. “Fal seemed not to think so. How are they getting along?”

“I left Fal deciding which book Laena should read.” I grit my teeth with the effort of not laughing once more, although Sera definitely saw my mirth leaking through, despite my attempt at a stoic expression. “She was threatening to be the one to turn the pages for her.”

I turned back to the sea and gave in, my shoulders shaking as I giggled silently into my sleeve. Sera sighed but there was no heat in it.

“You shouldn’t get so wound up!” called another voice. Sabitha. Normally she’d be on Laena’s side but like me, she’d been incensed to learn her friend had been so injured and had kept it to herself. As such, like me, she was taking an inordinate amount of amusement in Laena’s punishment. Falena had proved herself nothing if not dedicated to Laena’s total recovery. Laena could not even complain, she knew well this was a light punishment for being so utterly boneheaded and foolish. Besides, she did need the bed rest. She needed to heal, I was not entirely convinced I could be responsible for that, and I knew Laena was not trustworthy in that regard. “Laena needs someone to tell her when to stop!”

“I wouldn’t say Fal was high on the list to enforce such matters, though,” replied Sera, her tone light. There was a smile playing around her mouth, though, as Sab joined us, dressed in her customary chain mail and short sword, with her hair drawn back by a leather band. An interesting contrast to Sera, who wore a light blue dress and her hair loose down her back.

“Fal won’t put up with her, at least,” I said, turning back again now that Sera was outnumbered by those who openly found the whole situation hilarious. “My goodsister is remarkably adept at talking both Sab and I around, and she knows it.”

“She wouldn’t talk me around,” protested Sera. Sab grinned at her. “I am wise enough to her tricks. The Seven know that the children have picked up on most of them.”

“There you go, then! That’s why you can’t watch her for us, who would watch the princess’s children for her? Those poor maids Rhaenyra has brought along will be grey before their time without you to keep them in line. Besides, where else will they get those honey treats they are so fond of?” teased Sab. Sera flushed and gave me a guilty look before smiling when she noticed my own grin. “In any case, Laena needs to be distracted right now, else she’ll mope.”

I just managed to bite back a response to that. Sab was right, of course. She would mope if we gave her too much time alone without anything to focus on. Luke had not taken being left behind well. He had shouted, thrown things, kicked the doors and finally dissolved into tears. He’d only relented when Corlys had explained that most children squired at his age and Joffrey had explained that he had been sent away from his home at the age of ten to squire with Corlys. He’d eventually apologised for his behaviour after an hour or two to calm down with Joffrey alone, and Laena had lavished attention and praise upon him, along with promises of regular visits and any mementos she could find that might appeal to him.

And then Rhaena had discovered the news. In many ways, she had been worse. She knew how to hurt with her words and she aimed to hurt everyone. Her mother was accused of abandoning Luke once more, Joffrey was accused of caring more for his role under me than his role as their father, I was accused of being utterly heartless, Laenor of being a spineless dolt - the list went on. Rhaena had not apologised. Rhaena was still not speaking to her mother. At least fantasising about kicking Falena overboard would keep her from her darker thoughts.

I knew the main problem Rhaena had, of course. She took umbrage with our guests. Rolph was a given, as Laenor’s squire he was expected to accompany him. But Aliandra and Allyria Toland, the Lady of Ghost Hill, were not as acceptable in Rhaena’s eyes. Luke had to remain with Corlys, Jeyne and Alysanne sent home to the Riverlands… why then could Aliandra and some girl I did not even mentor get to come? She knew the answer well, of course. She was merely being contrary.

I shook that thought from my head. She was eight. I glanced back towards Sera, who was lost in her own thoughts, hazel eyes fixed on the sea.

“I appreciate your care for my children,” I told her and meant it. Sera nodded and then swallowed. Sab, as if sensing the momentary turn to emotion the conversation had taken, leaned against the taffrail and shot us both a lazy grin.

“If it wasn’t for Sera, we might all have been overrun during Princess Aemma’s feast!” Ah. The ‘feast’. I shuddered in time with the other two as we both recalled sixteen children descending on the food that had been laid out, in a manner that was almost feral. I’m pretty sure mercenary armies sacking cities weren’t as brutal as the children had been to that poor table of food. I’d come home that day in a fine temper and only made myself more upset by snapping at Jocelyn. Telling Aemma that her feast had been cancelled had hurt. I had promised her another one, of course, one much grander, and had offered a small meal at home instead for now.

Aemma had slyly suggested that this might not include strict enforcement of table manners. Like a fool, one desperate to please her, I had given in and set about arranging a vast selection of finger foods, all designed to be eaten without cutlery. The staff had been bemused enough when I had requested such, but they had certainly earned the bonus I had given them after. In the space of about six hours they had produced a fairly impressive spread. A spread that Aemma and the rest had laid waste to within minutes, of course.

“Your own were just as culpable,” said Sera, sounding faintly offended on my children’s behalf. I hid a smile in my sleeve as Sab grinned, evidently proud at having baited her.

“They’re growing boys!” she replied. “And you bribe them as well, do not think I haven’t noticed.”

Sera laughed, her ears going red.

“They are sweet boys, much like their mother,” she admitted. “Do you miss them?”

Sab grimaced, genuine pain there for a moment before she rallied a smile.

“With every beat of my heart,” she replied. “But I have a duty and Forrest is a good father. I will see them soon enough, anyway. He’ll bring them to me at Highgarden and again at Riverrun.”

Sera smiled again and my heart ached for her. It was cruel that she could not have children, cruel that it should be her, ultimately, that could not escape the effects of Hag’s Grasp. I blinked, letting the breeze carry the smell of sea and the sound of the dragons to me. Maris’ words haunted me. I did not believe, could not believe, that Larys was responsible. Yet if I were wrong? I clenched my jaw tight. Joffrey had upped the guard on Harwin and his children before we left. It could not hurt, even if I was right about Larys, keeping Harwin and Maris safe was important.

I brought my thoughts back to Sera. Could Laena aid her? I filed the idle thought away for later. How many times had those she’d made the offer to heal turned her down cold? Magic came with a price not many were willing to pay. Would Sera be willing if Laena could give her the chance at a babe? She still had a few years of childbearing left within her. A quick wedding and bedding… I was getting ahead of myself. Best ask Laena first… and then find some way to broach the topic with Sera should she decide it could be done.

“Besides!” said Sab with overly false cheer, her smile a tad brittle, and I realised we had all fallen silent. “They have your nephews to keep them company.”

“A bad influence, those three,” laughed Sera. Sab snorted and I smiled too. Three Strong boys. Was someone up there laughing at me? Maris showed no sign of a fourth despite assuring us all that her and Harwin were working ever so hard for one. “And their mother…”

“A monster and a known cheat at cards,” I joked, when she trailed off with an impish grin. Gods, that smile… would I ever not see Alys in it? Would I ever look at her and not remember her twin? “I should fear for my throne given she’s having tea with a certain ward of mine.”

That sent them laughing again. Maris had taken my offer to speak with Aliandra very seriously and the young woman came away from their chats looking puzzled but determined. Maris assured me she was being careful, and I trusted Aliandra not to do anything overtly stupid… I still had her report everything to Joffrey, though. Poor man. If he had been hoping for my Progress to be a holiday, he was sorely mistaken. Still, Gerold, Maris and Corlys had the capital, leaving him to focus on those we would meet along the way.

“Aliandra is a sweet girl,” said Sera finally. “She is just given to worry. She loves you in her own way.”

I hadn’t asked for the reassurance, but it eased something within me. Aliandra had been in an uncommonly good mood. She may have to suffer the Stormlands first, but she was going home and she could barely contain herself at the thought. Not even being denied spear practice with Laena for the journey had done much to dampen her spirits. It was not uncommon to see her flitting back and forth about the ship, bombarding the older Allyria with questions about Dorne and its customs before deciding and re-deciding what outfits she would present herself in Sunspear in. Amusing and heartbreaking in equal measure.

I was honestly quite surprised the Toland girl hadn’t attempted to strangle her yet.

“She’s making me dizzy with all that running about she’s doing,” joked Sab. “Although at least she’s visible. Where are Rhaenyra’s brood?”

“Brood? How unflattering,” I murmured and she stuck her tongue out at me, eyes sparkling in amusement. “If you must know, they are all engaging in highly appropriate activities for royalty such as themselves.”

Sera hummed disbelievingly and I sent her an aggrieved look. She kept her false look of innocence up for a few seconds before throwing her head back and laughing. I was almost offended on my children’s behalf. They were, as far as I knew, all behaving themselves. Then again, she was the one that cared for them on a day to day basis. It hurt to admit that I did not spend as much time with them as I would like.

“Do you have any reason to believe they are anywhere other than where they are supposed to be?” I asked, smiling to let her know there was no real heat in my words. She peered past my shoulder.

“Jocelyn is following her knight about,” she observed. “I suppose Aemma and Rhaena are reading and Aemon is drawing.”

“Alyssa is with Aemma,” I admitted. My children were ever so predictable. “And Aemon isn’t drawing, he’s watching Laenor and Captain Allard. He was being taught different types of knots last I checked.”

“Sounds riveting,” said Sab and Sera laughed softly. 

“I left Viserys with Leyla. That rather sums it all up then, doesn’t it?” she chuckled, squinting as the sun popped out from behind a cloud. I let myself enjoy the breeze and the warmth for a moment before smiling.

“I think I’ll fetch my youngest,” I decided. “And take him on a tour of my namesake. What did you two have planned for this afternoon?”

“I thought I’d drop in on Jocelyn’s lesson and show her a few tricks about beating the boys. Come cheer me on, Sera?” The hope in Sabitha’s eyes made me bite my lip. Sera didn’t get it, she never did.

“Of course!” They said their goodbyes then and left me leaning against the rail. Things felt quiet, despite Laenor’s men calling out around me and the sound of practice from further down the deck. I let my eyes drift close. Those endless days of waiting in King’s Landing were over. Those final days of watching my father try not to fall apart… Part of me had wanted to stay, but I knew I couldn’t. If I stayed, I’d never leave, and I needed this. Alicent had abandoned the capital and Aegon may be set against me, but he was not the type to resort to war. If I could cow enough of them then even Aegon’s idea for a council would be dead in the water.

It seemed like the end of a long and bitter war was in sight. Thoughts of my uncle intruded then and I bit my lip as the world seemed darker suddenly. He would be next on my list once the home front was secured. If I played my cards right, my brothers would be there alongside me and then his daughter wouldn’t matter one jot.


	199. The Stormlands - Chapter 172

Viserys cooed happily in my arms. I had taken to spending an hour or two with him, just pacing the deck and letting him enjoy the breeze and the sun. Even if he was currently fighting to keep his mismatched eyes open at the moment. I brushed my fingers through his hair and he yawned sleepily.

“You are quite the lazy one, aren’t you?” I murmured to him. He was nearly five months old now and already hitting those ever reassuring milestones, I half wondered if he wasn’t faster than even Jocelyn had been. He could sit up by himself, roll himself over and had become adept and grabbing things and pulling them about. Much to Laena and Alyssa’s chagrin, as neither had learnt yet that ringlets were free game to a small baby. In response to my voice, he babbled nonsense at me before his eyes began closing again. I peered up at the sun. It was nearly midday and either Sera or Septa Leyla would be by soon to put him down for a nap, else he’d scream the entire boat down later when he was too tired and cranky to actually sleep.

That brought a pang of sadness to me and I held him a little closer… at least until he started fussing. There was precious little for me to do around the _Princess Rhaenyra_ if I was being honest. My time would come after we’d reached dry land, but in the week or so it would take us to reach Storm’s End I was entirely superfluous and the whole business had me feeling at something of a loss. I couldn’t even harass Laena without coming across as a total hypocrite and there were only so many chats I could have with the others before I began repeating myself. 

Did I not have any hobbies? I swear I used to have hobbies. Was everything I did either based around the throne, my children or Laena these days? I held Viserys up and examined him.

“I think I need a new hobby,” I told him solemnly. I used to practice my archery… that had fallen by the wayside a long time ago, and even the practice with my knives was more perfunctory these days. “I think I’ve become rather boring.”

Viserys giggled softly and wriggled as the sea spray reached him, completely oblivious to my sudden revelation. I smiled as he extended a hand, grabbing for part of my dress. I let him tug on it for a while, mixed feelings churning around inside me. 

“Hmmm,” I said, to no one in particular. Viserys gave another tug on my dress. “Perhaps I should take up scrap-booking… or journaling.”

It was mostly said in jest.

“Your Grace?” I turned to find Septa Leyla hovering a little while away, a worried expression on her face. She did well with the children. I was quite impressed with the easy rapport she had established whilst still maintaining boundaries and discipline, but when confronted with those that held so much power, she tended to fall back on social niceties. Certainly, I had never had a good conversation with her. Just small talk. She was young, which had surprised me, I had expected some old sanctimonious crow. Perhaps that said more about me than it did about the Faith. Leyla had brilliant red hair, when it was not covered, and sparkling blue eyes. If I hadn’t met Elmo already, I’d suspect she was a Tully of some sort. Joffrey had assured me she was not when I had brought it up with him, although I had mostly been joking. 

“Is it time?” I asked and she nodded, her face easing into a smile. I lifted Viserys up, watching as he attempted to put his entire fist in his mouth. “All right, my little man. Be good for your Septa!”

His answering gurgle was muffled by his knuckles and I laughed softly, dropping a kiss to his golden curls. Septa Leyla took him after that, skillfully moving any easily grab-able parts of her clothing away from him with a soft smile on her face. I watched the two leave and then sighed again. Truly, I hated not having anything to do. It made my fingers itch. I suppose scrap-booking or journaling weren’t actually bad ideas. I had always been rather wary about how I might be described by those in the future - maybe I could leave behind my own words to refute whatever lies may be told.

The idea sat easily with me as I decided to continue my daily wander sans Viserys. My children could know me, the actual me, and my descendants would know what I intended when I had laid out my vision for Westeros. I frowned. It would mean adding the bad as well as the good, I supposed. It had to be truthful… which of course begs the question, just how truthful? Detail my life before? I was honestly still occasionally amazed that my closest friends did not think me mad for the tales I told them. Perhaps that needs to be edited out, then…

Should I include thoughts about the White Walkers? There were other ways to ensure the warning regarding the Wall existed beyond me. Laena, for example. I could get her to slip that into her works and keep my own free of madness. The thought made me feel another type of guilt all over again. If I were to be true to myself, I would need to add everything she was to me.

The others and I had never truly spoken about what was to be done about the children. They were too young to understand, we reasoned, but there would come a day when that excuse fell flat and a decision would need to be made.

“Mama!” I nearly leapt with fright as Aemon called out, so lost in my thoughts I was. I blinked when I saw him though. No paints or sketches in sight but holding a practice blade and dressed in padding.

“Aemon,” I said warmly. “Working on your skills with the blade?”

“Well, yes…” he said, eyes bright. Then he fixed that bright look on me with a smile. “I thought I should know more about the Stormlands.”

“I see,” I said, pride springing up inside of me. “And you were inspired by their tales of martial prowess?”

He went red and I laughed, sending him even redder.

“I was reading about Storm’s End,” he said as I hid my amused smile in my sleeve. “I did read that the Stormlanders take great pride in their martial abilities. I thought I should practice so I didn’t embarrass myself in front of Cassie, Elly or Maris.”

That wiped the smile off of my face.

“I would think they would be impressed by your title and Vermax,” I said. “Aemon, if they ever bother you too much or… make you feel uncomfortable, come to me. I shall ensure they treat you with the respect you are due.”

He gave me a long-suffering look that nearly had me giggling again in that it took me so much by surprise. My son… older than his years and looking more and more like Laenor as the days went by.

“I know, mama,” he said. Then he hesitated, his ears going red. I waited as he seemed to debate something with himself. Then he sighed. 

“Mama,” he started, looking solemn. “I know I am only nine but I do know what is expected of me.”

“Aemon,” I replied, equally as solemnly. He sounded as if he were reading from a prepared script when he spoke like that. “You are nine and I would fight any man who says you have to play the heir before you are ready to.”

“But I am your heir!” he protested. Alarmed at the sudden fear, I reached out and drew him close.

“Of course you are, but that doesn’t mean you can not have your own interests and hobbies,” I told him, puzzled. He relaxed in my embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“But I am your heir,” he insisted. “I have all the lessons with uncle Joff and I listen to grandpapa’s stories and grandmama Rhaenys tells me things as well! I want to be a good heir! A good king!”

“You are a good heir. The best I could ask for. I have no doubts at all, Aemon, that you will be a truly great king,” I assured him, stroking his silver hair back from his eyes. It was getting long again, I thought absentmindedly. “And telling me if Cassandra, Maris and Ellyn are making you uncomfortable doesn’t change that. They are older girls and just because they are girls, it doesn’t mean you have to enjoy their attention or be made to pretend you do.”

“I understand,” he lied. I could see he was still struggling to understand it. He was nine.

“Do you? Think of what your father or I would do if the situation were reversed and it were Jocelyn or Alyssa being courted by three older boys.” His face cleared then and he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “I… I do understand. I will tell you if they do anything like that.”

“You still have a year to go to choose,” I assured him. “Do not rush it because they are pressuring you.”

“I know who I am going to choose,” he murmured, then looked as if he regretted saying it out loud. I forced myself to keep my breath even and my face a mask of polite interest. My heart was hammering, though, and part of me wanted to scream at the revelation. Damn it all, I had expected to have longer than this.

“And who is that?” I asked, brushing his hair from his face once more.

“Mama,” he said, long-suffering look back. I bit back the biting retort I might have directed at another adult and gave him a smile, even though I was quite sure it was a brittle one.

“I must warn Lady Elenda, you see,” I told him. “Something tells me the Three Storms did not get that name by accident.” That made him look a little more thoughtful. 

“They do argue a lot,” he admitted. “I suppose… but you have to promise to not try and change my mind.”

I winced and his face transformed into a triumphant look that was all Joffrey.

“Alright,” I said finally, mentally planning to make my spymaster pay for teaching him that expression. “I will accept your choice. I reserve the right, however, to question you on your reasons!”

“Maris,” he said and the bottom of my stomach dropped out.

“Maris?” I asked, mind conjuring the sharp-tongued, sharp-eyed girl that only just beat Cassandra in my desired gooddaughter category due to having intelligence to back up her pride. “Not Ellyn?”

“Mama!” I winced again. “Maris is very clever and very funny. Ellyn is nice but…”

He trailed off and I mentally filled in the blanks. Ellyn was nice and sweet but even Cassandra could run rings around her when it came to mental attributes. Not to say she was stupid, she was not, she just could not keep up with her sisters. I wanted to protest but something told me that would end badly. Instead, I waited.

“Maris is very clever,” he told me. “And she doesn’t pull faces at my art like Cassandra does and we do talk about lots of things!”

I opened my mouth and then froze as he directed his gaze at me again, looking ready to fight. His previous expression of triumph had been Joffrey, and Aemon was Laenor writ small, but this… this stubbornness was all me. I gathered him close again.

“I will write to Elenda and tell her you have made your choice,” I promised. He relaxed again. 

“Thank you, Mama. When can I tell the others?” he asked. 

“You can tell your papa and your uncle and aunt but not the others until it is announced.” Elenda likely had her own schemes in play, and Alyssa and Jocelyn were likely to kick up a stink again about Aemon getting to choose.

“Alright,” he said, looking chagrined. I sighed into the top of his head. “Mama?”

“Yes, Aemon?” I answered. He wriggled in my grasp and pulled away.

“Might I have a few trips on Vermax whilst we are in the Stormlands?” I blinked at the question.

“Maris and yourself?” I asked. He shrugged.

“I want to do a project whilst we are away from home,” he replied. “To draw pictures from each of the Kingdoms.” I smiled. That was more the Aemon I had been expecting. Still… Laenor and I had set rules about this.

“If you take your father with you, or uncle Joff,” I told him. “No flying away on grand trips until you are six and ten.”

“Uncle Joff might say yes if aunt Laena is still ill…” he murmured. “Papa might as well if cousin Borros is… er…”

“You’ve been eavesdropping,” I realised and his ears went red again as he adopted an uncharacteristically shifty look. “Aemon!”

“I like knowing things!” he protested. I stared at him before sighing. If he had heard anything too damaging he would have said so by now, I was sure.

“Come ask to join us, then, don’t lurk about doorways like some urchin,” I told him and he nodded.

“Yes, mama,” he promised. I sighed again. 

“Go on then, get back to your practice if you are so intent on impressing your lady.” He gave me a playful shove as his ears stayed a vibrant red. “Go on! Test Jocelyn’s skill for me!”

“I will, mama!” he promised. Then he paused. “And thank you.”

I watched him go, wondering where Joffrey had gotten to. This would require careful navigation…


	200. The Stormlands - Chapter 173

I curled into Laenor as the ship jerked and shuddered violently underneath us, groaning and creaking as the wind and waves pulled it this way and that.

“We were lucky with the weather!” called Captain Allard, voice barely audible over the wind. “This is as good as it gets!”

“This was a mistake,” I mumbled in reply, not that Captain Allard heard me. Laenor did, though, and he laughed, taking care to pull me a little closer. The roar of the wind, the way the waves knocked our ship about, the way it groaned and creaked so alarmingly, all of it combined put me on edge. I had never been afraid of ships or sailing before, I had done much of it in this life but this, this was something else entirely. This was the Bay that had claimed Steffon and Cassana Baratheon… and this was good weather? Suddenly, I truly understood why this was known as Shipbreaker Bay.

“It won’t be long,” said Laenor, confidently. “Why not wait with Laena, Joff and the children?”

“And have someone make a comment on it?” I asked, peering up at him. He grinned.

“All right, I’ll let you hang on to me so you can look good for Borros,” he joked.

“You should get used to playing the devoted husband,” I told him, tone slightly more sour than I intended. Thankfully for me, he took it as a joke. There were days I knew I did not deserve Laenor.

“Fear not, we shall appear the most devoted couple since Jaehaerys and Alysanne,” he chuckled, reaching over me to adjust Alysanne’s crown. I had knocked it askew again as it caught on his doublet.

“Do remember how that ended, dear one,” I told him, voice falsely sweet. He laughed again, before turning his head once more to the rapidly approaching dock. Storm’s End. The first of my stops on my Progress.

“I mean it,” said Laenor, a little solemnly. “I know well we can not afford rumours.”

“The ship allows for more privacy-” He cut me off.

“Conditional on the children not storming in. I will make the sacrifice.” He tried to summon a smile and failed. “And so shall you.”

I winced and I knew he’d felt it, there was no way he could not have. I reached up and ran a hand over his beard.

“My bed is your bed for as long as you wish,” I told him, our eyes meeting. He looked uncertain for a second. “And I shall keep myself a chaste as a Septa in the meantime.”

Relief. It shouldn’t hurt now but it always did. After Aemma… but no. I shouldn’t be getting stuck in those thoughts, not now. Not when I had to be at my best. I turned, the Baratheon family in full view now and clearly dressed to impress, a sea of yellow and black. Borros, Elenda, Cassandra, Maris, Ellyn and finally little Orys. Well not so little. He was just younger than Aemon, if I remembered that correctly. Much taller though, I realised, squinting at the dock. He had that proto-canon era Baratheon look to him, too. Like Aemon was a smaller version of Laenor, Orys looked to be a small version of Borros. No doubt that had pleased the man.

Laenor kept a hold on my shoulders as Captain Allard took us in closer and closer and I kept the smile plastered firmly across my face. At some point, my ladies had brought the children above deck, each dressed their best as well. Actually arriving was… tedious. There were certain ceremonies to be observed but Borros and Elenda had gone all out and were making it quite obvious. A formal greeting, followed by the introduction of various children, despite the fact that each party already knew each other well.

Well, pomp and spectacle was what I had asked for, I suppose I should be happy that I got it. There were lords here, of course. Borros’ bannermen, each come to judge me and him once more. I made a show of speaking to him and Elenda like old friends and saw the spark of satisfaction in both their eyes at my actions. My children didn’t embarrass themselves either… even if Viserys had tugged on Borros’ beard when he was passed over.

“A strong one!” exclaimed Borros, attempting to remove a chubby hand from his hair. “You must be very proud, Ser Laenor.”

“I think this one might be quite the dashing knight when he’s older,” murmured Elenda, reaching over to help her husband. Their children looked amused at their father’s predicament but clearly had their own thoughts about it. Cassandra and Maris had their sights fixed squarely on Aemon, who blushed under their stares. Ellyn seemed more curious about Rhaena and Aemma and Orys was also focused on Aemon, although I’d bet for very different reasons. I hoped, anyway.

Then I felt bad for hoping it.

Elenda freed her husband in the next moment and took over holding my son close, cooing in delight over his eyes and hair. It seemed genuine, everything Elenda always did seemed genuine, though. Her affection for her daughters, despite her canon betrayal of them. Her fondness for her husband, despite seemingly not batting an eyelid when he died in canon. She was an enigma, and not for the first time I was glad to have her on my side. What had she thought of canon, I wonder? Had she counselled Borros to hold back and get the best deal? Had she been furious that cunning Maris had provoked Aemond so? Which side had she ultimately hoped to join? Blacks, to see Cassandra’s right assured should she not birth a son in that final late pregnancy, or Greens, to avenge her husband’s perceived abandonment by his cousin?

“I must thank you for your warning, Your Grace,” murmured the object of my thoughts as she made a show of passing Viserys back towards me. I took a moment to adjust him into a comfortable hold where he could still see the sights and smiled at her.

“I was quite shocked he made his decision so early, but he seems set on it.” Elenda nodded, a smile quirking over her lips for a moment as she turned to gaze at her daughters. Her eldest had gone for Aemon the moment it was polite and Ellyn was cautiously approaching Rhaena. I noted Jocelyn keeping a close eye on her cousin and younger sister, as if ready to leap to their defence should Ellyn prove upsetting to them. Alyssa was watching Aemon in a similar manner. It warmed my heart to know they wanted to protect their younger siblings.

“Borros wishes to announce it,” said Elenda, tone neutral. “I told him you would want to wait but he insists-”

“He wishes to make a show of it whilst we are all here and on his home ground,” I replied. “Normally, it would not be great, but I gave instructions that this Progress was to be the grandest it could be. I suppose I can not complain if he is fulfilling that in a manner that benefits House Baratheon too.”

Elenda tilted her head at that.

“I understand,” she replied finally. “I have not yet told them of his choice.”

“I would rather you than me,” I joked, and she smiled thinly and without much joy.

“Do not worry overly much,” she replied dryly. “If Cassandra causes trouble, I will deal with her.”

“That sounds drastic?” I murmured, trying to keep the alarm from my voice. I felt as if my blood had turned to ice in my veins. I knew well what Elenda thought were appropriate fates for daughters…

“Fear not for her,” she replied. “I have a good betrothal in mind. She will not suffer, unless she causes suffering to Maris or Ellyn.”

I breathed out at the almost clinical admission. Suffer… it seemed bizarre any mother could speak so coldly about letting their child suffer…

“You dislike my approach?” she asked.

“I… am merely surprised by the bluntness. I could not imagine causing suffering to my children deliberately.” She tilted her head again at that but smiled. I could not decide if I wanted to sigh with relief that she had not taken offence or take her by the shoulders and shake her for being so cold.

“You should look to your own children with the same attitude,” she told me, her gaze drifting over the rest as the formality of the greetings broke down to parties chatting here and there. There were eyes on us, of course, but none so close that they could overhear what we were speaking of. “What would you do if Jocelyn sought the throne?”

“She does not,” I assured her and Elenda smiled.

“I do not accuse her of such. Yet if she did, you would need to take her in hand,” she replied, eyes picking out Jocelyn as she watched Rhaena and Ellyn chat about some tale both were familiar with. “You would have to make her understand she is not your heir before such trouble is caused that can not be taken back.”

“Is Cassandra likely to cause such trouble?” I asked. Elenda shook her head.

“No, I will watch her closely. I will ensure she goes to her marriage bed quietly and accepts that she will never have Storm’s End.” Elenda paused then, her eyes narrowing as she examined me. “If I may be so bold, your father should have done the same long ago. Do not make his mistakes.”

I grimaced. Father had not tried… and by the time he had, it had been too little, too late. I could understand her sentiment, but I could not bring myself to agree with it entirely. Was this what father had felt? To look at his children and know drastic measures were needed and yet… to know it would require causing one to suffer greatly? My eyes flickered to Syrax then as she wheeled with the other dragons above the Bay. It would take me a day or two to fly back to King’s Landing from here and suddenly I wanted to. I had left him a broken man…

“I begged him to,” I whispered. “To send Alicent away, send Aegon away…”

“And now it is too late. Do not worry, Ser Joffrey has warned us.” I looked back to Elenda, who was watching me with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’m quite put out you got the boy before me, you know?”

“He is older than both of us,” I pointed out dryly.

“Indeed. Useful too, if he is anything like his sister.” I kept my reaction off my face then and instead smiled.

“I fear he is private when it comes to his family,” I said, keeping my tone easy as I sought him out. Joffrey was by Laenor, dark eyes intent on whatever he was saying to Borros. No stick in sight, no doubt he had the brace on to project the image of a man not so damaged by Criston Cole.

“His sister was a lady of mine until she married. She has the mind of her brother. Not so much the eldest though, a bit of a disappointment there.” Her tone was so dry and analytical that I wanted to laugh. It did not surprise me that I had not heard of his sister’s wedding from Joffrey himself. It still baffled me as to why he was so desperate to keep us and his family apart… I could count on one hand the amount of times I had met Lord Gyles and I had never met Joffrey’s siblings. Even in conversation they were brought up sparingly.

“Well, I am sure I will finally meet them both during this trip,” I replied, shifting Viserys in my arms. Elenda smiled.

“I shall ensure it. Lucille is desperately curious about you in turn.” That caught me by surprise. Then, the oddest look came over her face. “Something about discovering if you were an appropriate partner for her baby brother.”

I flushed at the reminder of the old rumour and managed to stop myself from protesting, despite the urge to inform her that I had never lain with Joffrey. Elenda, it seemed, had already mentally moved on, her face becoming solemn again. It did not take me long to figure out why, once I’d gotten over the shock of Elenda making a joke. Aliandra and Allyria shuffling off of the ship, young faces full of trepidation. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you to stay close to them,” she murmured as Cassandra’s face wrinkled in disgust when Alyssa waved them both close. I felt myself tense up as Aliandra spotted the hostility in turn, transforming from young girl into the Princess of Dorne.

“I have guards that are assigned to them and only them,” I replied and she nodded.

“Good, it is beyond my power to control these lords when it comes to the Dornish.” That was quite the admission from her. “I also want no trouble from them. I will brook no Dornish trickery here-”

“They are children,” I told her harshly. “Allyria was five when she came here and Ali was three. Do you accuse me of raising them to be the type to disregard guest right?”

She shrugged.

“You can teach a dog tricks, but it’s still a dog at the end of the day, and every dog is capable of turning on its master.” She must have seen my look of disgust because when she spoke next, her tone was far more conciliatory. “I meant no offence, of course. I just ask that you watch them closely. I shall watch my lords closely and if the Seven are good, we will make it through this visit with little trouble.”

The Seven were never good, I thought bitterly, my eyes on the two girls as they crowded close to Alyssa. I shouldn’t have brought them here. I should have sent them ahead to Dorne with Rhaenys or some such and picked them up as we passed through. All this visit would foster was resentment, as grown men found it acceptable to deliver a thousand small cuts on a girl barely approaching puberty.

I grit my teeth and launched myself back into the proverbial fray, abandoning Elenda and making my way towards the girls. I barely paid any mind to what they were speaking off, it didn’t matter. I could already tell there was conflict about. Cassandra looked ready to leap for Alyssa and Alyssa looked ready to call Vermithor to her. I stopped beside them and let my hand rest on Aliandra’s shoulder.

“Now,” I said gently, capturing the attention of them all. “I have been assured Storm’s End is beautiful, which one of you girls will show me about the grounds?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, if you enjoy this fic, you may like A Queen's Conquest by widowmaker94. It's a Visenya SI set during the Conquest of Westeros.
> 
> As always, thank you for your kind comments and feedback. I really do appreciate them!


	201. Art

Art of the main four done by Demekii! From left to right: Joffrey, Laenor, Rhaenyra and Laena

In addition, I'll also be posting a chapter tomorrow and Sunday due to a friend's birthday.


	202. The Stormlands - Chapter 174

I was writing and re-writing the beginning passage of my journal, trying to imagine what my children might ask me or what my children children’s might, when a quill bounced off the back of my head and clattered across the floor. I sighed and placed my own quill down before turning. Laena stood in the doorway, wicked smile and all.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shouldn’t you be winning over your supporters?” she responded, raising an eyebrow. Her grin didn’t fade, though. I huffed.

“I have wined and dined quite enough lords these past two days, Laena, and will not need to impress more until the next round of arrivals. Have you rested enough?” At my look she sighed.

“I spoke to the Maester, if you must know. He recommended gentle walks daily,” she replied. Then held up a finger as I went to respond. “Before you start, I asked Gerardys and he said the man could be trusted. On medical matters, at least.”

I was not so sure but I shut my mouth. Funny that I could remember that the Maester of Storm’s End was theorised to have helped incite Borros against Rhaenyra by capitalising on his inability to read, but not a multitude of other things that would be vastly more useful.

“So I came by to ask my wonderful goodsister if she’d come and take a gentle walk with me,” she said. “Perhaps down to the caverns I discovered?”

“Would that be a gentle walk?” I asked, rising from my seat, curious despite myself.

“The Maester said that as long as I don’t head towards the unstable parts-”

“Unstable?” She rolled her eyes at my sharp question. I wanted to chide her. There were days when my lover acted her age, and days when she played the teenager and the younger she acted, the more aggravating she got. I had brought it up with her multiple times but she always laughed it off. I got the sense that she did it on purpose sometimes. If I were being fair, she mostly played the teenager around the children and caught me up in it entirely by accident.

“They’re well roped off. The main caverns are safe.” Her voice was serious enough, so I gave in and cast my eye about the room for my boots. At least I had not worn some precious and irreplaceable dress today, because changing would be such a pain, especially with Laena’s skills still lacking in that regard. This one would be fine to get mud on at least, or whatever detritus one found in caverns. Laena smiled as she watched me, before her eyes fell on the paper I had been writing words upon until half of them did not look real anymore.

“Where is Falena, anyway?” I asked, hoping to distract her, as I retrieved a warm cloak from one of my chests. Laena groaned.

“She said she had someone to see and disappeared.” At my look, she rolled her eyes again. “I told her I was taking my daily walk and she said it was fine, before you start. Ready?”

“Ready,” I replied. She grinned again and marched off, leaving me to follow in her wake as she navigated Storm’s End with a confident knowledge borne from three months spent here previously. I was still learning the passages. I fancied I could get to my rooms from the feasting hall with only two or three wrong turns now. My guards, two knights from Dragonstone, followed along after me. No Ser Steffon today, I had not brought Erryk with me on this journey, and so Steffon had taken the role of commander of my guard rather than literal bodyguard.

“How did you even discover these caverns, anyway?” I asked, curious, as she led me along to an inner courtyard.

“I knew there had to be something in the foundations,” she told me, twisting back to look at me. Her eyes were bright, as they often were when someone took an interest in something she wished to talk about. “I spent a full month scrambling around in the wine cellars until I noticed a draft coming through.”

“I see,” I murmured. She ignored me and forged on. 

“Borros had quite a few walls demolished until we found our way in. Of course, there are easier ways to access them now, Elenda wanted her cellars back apparently.” Yes, I could see that. “She wrote to tell me they’d found access under an old well that had long since been filled in!”

“Is it overly damp down there?” I asked. “And did you ever get around to sending her the copies you said you would?”

“Yes, I did, and it’s chilly more than anything else. You’ll see.” She fell silent on that not very reassuring statement. I sighed. Some memory then poked at me. The memory of Laena being genuinely distraught about…

“They aren’t like the runes in the foundation of Runestone, are they?” I asked as we exited the castle entirely into the mid-morning sun. I could see the entrance way Laena intended to take me to. The stonework was almost brand new compared to every other structure in this part of the castle. A wrought iron gate, with additional chains, shut and locked tight, barred the entrance. It did not surprise me, Elenda had said as such.

“No, it’s quite int-” I frowned as she fell silent, her eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. I heard my guards come to attention and turned.

“Ah, Your Grace, I had hoped to run into you.” I froze when I saw the speaker because for a moment, it was Criston Cole before me. The hair, the shade of his eyes… even the self-confident little smirk I remembered so well. My heart hammered in my chest and then my eyes began picking out other details. He lacked Criston’s bulk, his jaw was wrong and his nose had clearly been broken at some point…

“Ser Willis,” I realised, breath coming to me once more. I waved to my guards to let him approach. He was not visibly wearing a sword and he had stopped at a respectable range, sensible I supposed, and the actions spoke of a man that wanted no misunderstandings. I was aware, suddenly, of Laena at my shoulder. She wasn’t touching me but I knew she wanted to… The man, Ser Willis Cole, bowed smoothly.

“I am honoured Her Grace should know my name,” he said. “My brother’s doing, no doubt?”

“Indeed,” I replied, heart slowing in my chest. “Ser Criston often spoke fondly of you.”

“Yes, I should hope he did,” replied Willis. Then he smiled sadly. “He gave me my rather distinctive nose, you see.”

“He did not mention that,” I replied. Now the relief had drained away, I felt out of place and awkward. “Does your presence mean Lord Dondarrion has arrived? I had hoped to meet with him.”

“No, Your Grace. Lord Dondarrion sent us ahead.” Then he paused, opening his mouth before steeling himself for whatever he was about to say. “I wanted to apologise, Your Grace. My brother… I believe he is a good man. He was merely… misled.”

“The past is the past, Ser Willis. Besides, I am assured Ser Criston has distinguished himself many times over.” Ser Willis nodded, directing a thoughtful look at me again.

“So I have been told, Your Grace,” he replied. Then he bowed again. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, Your Grace. If I may be allowed to take my leave?”

“Of course, Ser Willis. I wish you a good day.” He left, his face a mask of thought and Laena snorted.

“The audacity…” she mumbled, as she busied herself with a key I suspected unlocked the gate.

“I thought you got along well with Cole at the Wall,” I murmured, trying to picture my once-knight dressed in black.

“I did, but for his brother to approach you so brazenly...” I smiled and dropped a hand to her shoulder as my theory proved correct and the gate swung open.

“He came to apologise, leave it be. It must have been stressful for him to wonder if he had earned my ire by association. Certainly, do not tell Elenda, she’ll send the poor man running.” Laena chuckled and then shook her head.

“You forgave him far too easily. I still have not forgotten that he crippled my husband and would likely have done worse to Laenor if he could. I still have not forgotten just what he was capable of.” I thought of Lyman and swallowed thickly as Laena began to pull the chains that sealed her caverns away, dropping them into a pile. I waved for the guards to take posts outside. When one hesitated, I frowned.

“I have my knives,” I told him. “And Laena is similarly armed. Be at peace, Ser.”

“Your Grace,” he mumbled, then did as I had ordered. I spared them both a nod, before following Laena into the passage. Borros, if not Elenda, clearly saw a future in this passageway because the stairs down boasted the same craftsmanship as the entrance way. I waited for a moment as Laena retrieved a lantern that had been hung on the wall and lit it, sending the shadows dancing around us.

“Not much light down there unless you follow the cavern right through to the cliffs,” she said. “And we don’t want to do that without a map.”

“You missed this, didn’t you?” I observed as we set off, and she smiled. 

“Yes, the mystery of it… why did the Storm Kings of old build these caverns? How did Brandon the Builder get involved? How old was he when he helped build this? The foundations are his, even if Storm’s End itself has expanded over however many Storm Kings.” Her eyes were shining in the candlelight and I smiled in turn. “I am glad Borros and Elenda kept working on it after I left.”

“I do wonder about that,” I said. “It doesn’t seem Elenda’s style.”

“Some of these passages go up into parts of the keep,” she replied. “Like the Red Keep, I think more than a few of these passages were meant for escape should Storm’s End fall. Another question to be answered. Why seal them up?”

“To prevent someone from entering through the back door,” I suggested as the passage opened up into the first… cave? I suppose that was the best way to describe it, even though I could not see much of it. Laena’s lantern lit the way, but it was not enough to light the whole area up. It was more cramped than I expected and Laena had to bend her knees slightly in places to get through. 

“I’m not so sure,” she replied when we were back in a more man made area. “They’re a maze and not great for moving large amounts of men through.”

We came to a fork in the passage, one leading off into another cave and the other man made… or at least reinforced. I saw timber propping up the walls and roof. Laena pointed down that way.

“This way is where we need to go,” she said. “I didn’t answer you earlier. About Runestone, did I?”

“You did not,” I replied, nearly tipping over a loose rock. “Ser Willis interrupted.”

“It’s not as dangerous, I’m sure of it. You said you only had to touch the foundations of Runestone, right? Well, I’ve touched these. Nothing happened. I suspect he found a new technique between the two constructions. Which would mean Runestone is older than Storm’s End, a victory for Rhea, I suppose. By no more than a decade or two, though, so maybe not so much.” She was lost to her rambling now and I smiled at the look of wonder on her face as we finally exited into a new cavern. This one…

I felt the cold the moment I entered. Not as biting as that day at Runestone, but it was pervasive, finding its way under my cloak immediately and making me shudder. The source was equally as obvious. Almost luminous even in the dark, a great stone wall that rose above us, ever so familiar runes carved across its face. When I let a slow breath out, the air misted in front of me.

“That certainly does look like Runestone,” I admitted. She nodded.

“I wish I could see Winterfell… The Wall is very different but still his. I wish I knew why his style changed so much, Winterfell could be the key to understanding why and how-” I cut her off.

“The Long Night?” I asked. “The Wall and this castle were built for very different reasons.”

“True,” she sighed. “I wish I knew what half of this magic did. I know the runes can be deciphered but… imagine what we could build if we could do what Brandon Stark could?”

“Certainly leave our mark on Westeros,” I murmured, moving to stand by her side and get a better look at it all. “Could this have protected Storm’s End from dragon fire?”

“I… maybe? Some of it, possibly. Not enough to justify Argella’s defiance, if that’s what you are wondering about?” I pursed my lips and turned to her.

“It was interesting to see,” I said. “Thank you.”

It was worth it to see her face light up.

“I thought I should show you that I am not entirely incompetent-” I laid a finger against her lips and cut her off.

“You know I don’t think that of you. You are the expert on dragons and I trust you with my life.” She snorted and I removed my finger. “I just think you could do with someone there to remind you to slow down and be cautious.”

“Maybe you are right,” she admitted begrudgingly. Then she raised the lantern to the runes again. “I might drag Falena down here. Let her see this.”

“Well, if she agrees to it, by all means. She may even enjoy the history lesson,” I replied, not rising to the bait. Then I shivered as the temperature seemed to drop slightly. 

“Do you want to leave?” she asked. “You look cold.”

“Are you not?” I asked in disbelief. She grinned.

“A little. It’s probably hitting you harder, now that I think about it.” She caught my arm as she turned and I turned with her.

“My prize for touching things?” I asked. We had not spoken in any great detail about the ‘scarring’ Laena had told me I had. She tensed when I mentioned it before relaxing just a bit.

“Yes.” Her tone was cold and I nudged her with my elbow, nearly causing us both to trip on suddenly uneven ground as we left the chamber. “Sorry… I just worry for you.”

“You said they weren’t dangerous.” 

“It isn’t! Not really! It’s just the reminder. Do you know what could have happened?” she asked. There was a little desperation in her eyes and I wanted to reach up and kiss her until she was calm. The promise I had made to Laenor loomed large in my mind and I bit my lip.

“Something terrible, I presume.” She opened her mouth and I held up a hand. “I don’t need to know. I nearly died because I was foolish, you are here to stop that from occurring now and I trust you in that. Just like I trust Joffrey to stop me from being knifed in the dark and Laenor to lead my armies should I need him to.”

She closed her mouth and said nothing in response to that for a while. I was beginning to suspect I had somehow messed it all up when Laena stopped and tilted her head.

“Someone is ahead of us,” she whispered, eyes narrowed. 

“How do you know?” I asked, letting my own volume fall. She tilted her head and gestured for me to listen. I did. It took a moment or two but eventually… two voices, both speaking as if they had little care whether anyone heard them. High-pitched, too. A suspicion formed in my mind.

“Come, those are no assassins,” I told her. She nodded.

“Children, I think. It better not be Rhaena,” Laena replied. We continued the rest of the way and found Aemon and Maris. Both went pale when they saw us coming back up the other way.

“Off for a walk?” I asked. Aemon squirmed under my gaze. Over his shoulder, I could see one of my knights as well as one of the men-at-arms of Storm’s End. 

“I asked mother for permission,” said Maris. “The guard I brought is familiar with the tunnels.”

“They are still dangerous,” warned Laena and Maris’ eyes flashed. There was that pride I so feared. The instinctive anger at being told what to do.

“I would prefer it, Aemon, if you were to stay in the entrance way unless Laena is escorting you. I mean no offence to our hosts, but I fear the caverns bow to no master.” Aemon stared at me for a moment before turning to Maris. Her blue eyes narrowed for a second and he seemed to come to a decision.

“Yes, mother,” he replied, sounding almost gloomy. Maris gave him a look of annoyance and he directed one of helplessness back. Laena rolled her eyes and gave me a look that spoke volumes.

“Well, Laena intends to visit often enough. Perhaps you can help her with drawing some copies?” His eyes lit up at that. As did Maris’, curiously enough. I suppose for all her pride and brains, she was still twelve and prone to being caught up in the grandeur of times long past.

“I would be honoured to have you both join me,” Laena told them, her voice warm. Then she leaned forward. “And help me keep Falena off my back too. You know what she’s like!”

“Laena,” I warned her as Maris and Aemon laughed. She shot me an impish grin, playing the teenager once more. “It was such a nice afternoon, as well. You’re such a bad influence. No wonder my children are horrors half the time.”

That just made the two children laugh harder, for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra update! Remember, there will still be a release tomorrow.


	203. The Stormlands - Chapter 175

To say that Elenda and Borros had gone all out for tonight would be like saying the sea was a little wet. The Lords of the Stormlands were finally assembled, the announcement of Aemon and Maris’ betrothal had gone out and Borros clearly intended to make a show of my visit. The week I had spent here already had been the longest I had in recent memory and now that people knew my son was tied to House Baratheon, it would only become more tiresome.

“My Lords and Ladies!” roared Borros over the general sound of the feast. Silence spread quickly. It tended to, if Borros were the one calling for it. I smiled benignly as the eyes of the hall turned towards us. They were curious, they had rightly guessed that Borros’ support of me had been bought with my son’s hand. Now it was out in the open for the first time, official. I tried not to meet Aemon’s worried gaze or Maris’ smug one, each sat together at the High Table, taking pride of place. They had been talking easily before Borros had stood up, at least.

“The Seven have indeed blessed me, for I have another announcement to make tonight.” Had I been less skilled at keeping my calm, my smile might have flickered at that. A royal betrothal, one that would see his daughter a Queen, should be worth its own feast and celebration. It was beyond strange that he should make other announcements- I caught Cassandra’s face then, her glare bordering on hate as she stared into the crowd. I breathed out. Cassandra’s betrothal then. I could not imagine how she must feel now. To lose out on Aemon was one thing, to be married off immediately after that rejection with what was supposed to be her night overshadowed by her younger sister once more?

Was this Elenda’s doing? I should leave her daughters to her, but part of me could not help but wonder if this was punishment of some kind? She had never seemed the petty type, more ruthlessly pragmatic. Why then levy such an insult against her daughter?

“Two betrothals for House Baratheon! You all know why we are here” Borros nodded towards Maris and Aemon. I watched as his daughter’s smile died a little. Then he turned and gestured towards Cassandra. That got a cheer and Cassandra’s glare became a forced smile when her mother turned that fearsome gaze on her. She looked as if she was about to be sick. I looked back to Aemon, who had a somewhat similar expression. “My eldest…”

He trailed off and smiled at her, tears of pride in his eyes. Her smile then was a little more genuine, but I could still see the anger there, fear too.

“My firstborn will marry a man worthy of her. Ser Corwin Errol!” A cheer rose then and a young man was singled out, rising to bow to Borros. He was handsome enough, I supposed. Light brown hair and a patchy beard with blue eyes that were full of worship as he gazed at his new betrothed. “House Errol has long since been a stalwart ally of House Baratheon. Ser Corwin will make a fine husband… or else he’ll answer to me.”

That got a laugh, even as Corwin Errol swallowed visibly and bowed once more. When he sat, several of his fellow knights clapped him on the back. Cassandra reached towards her glass of wine and sipped at it, glaring at the young man. That got him some laughs as he flushed red when he noticed at last. 

“Now all! Enjoy the feast as we celebrate my two eldest daughters!” I followed Cassandra’s lead and sipped at my wine as Borros took his seat to raucous applause, looking immensely pleased with himself. I had an inkling that the man he was sat next to was the current Lord Errol, although I was unsure if he was Corwin’s father or grandfather. I’d lay my bets on grandfather though, his hair was all silver and his stern features showed the passage of time well. I couldn’t quite take my eyes off Cassandra though, and my worry only grew when Elenda appeared at her elbow and spoke into her ear. Cassandra flushed red and her gaze dropped to her food momentarily. Then, as if someone were forcing her at knife point, she rose and headed towards the table Ser Corwin was seated at.

“Aemon?” My son paused in his chat with Maris and turned to me, eyes questioning. “I trust you will treat your betrothed right if I head down and check on your siblings? Your papa will hopefully be back soon.”

“Yes, Mama!” he chirruped, his eyes wandering over to his father. Laenor had been pressed into service as the dance partner for a young lady of House Morrigen but he didn’t seem to mind too much. Maris gave me a sweet smile and I distrusted it immensely. Against my better judgement, I rose and left them there. Most of the lords had already been by with their congratulations anyway and I knew neither Aemon or Maris were the types to make fools of themselves through being overly impolite. I sat myself down next to Joffrey and Laena, earning a few curious looks.

“How are you finding the feast?” I asked.

“It’s very different from King’s Landing,” said Alys, peering about. “They would not dance until the food was gone.”

“They wouldn’t announce a betrothal at a feast to celebrate another, either,” said Falena, her tone disapproving. She was peering around Laena’s shoulder, her gaze on me. “He ought to have left it for a few days. Poor girl.”

“It’s Lord Borros,” said Joffrey, picking at the roast pork on his plate. “He is famed for such matters.”

Falena sniffed again. I agreed with her, if I was being honest. Cassandra should have had her own feast but alas, there was little I could do about it now.

“Remind me to send her some grand gift,” I told Joffrey. He nodded.

“What has you on edge?” I asked.

“I’m not on edge,” he almost snapped back and I blinked, nonplussed. At my expression, and the sudden attention of every child on the table, he groaned and dropped his cutlery. “I am trying to ensure Lucille does not ambush me. I know she is here. You have never met my sister, she is…”

“Interesting,” Laena replied. “And she has met Lucille. At our wedding, dearest husband.”

I suddenly had a vague memory of a young girl with mud brown hair and eyes, almost cowering in her mother’s shadow. 

“That was hardly Lucille being Lucille,” replied Joffrey. “For one, she shut up for more than five minutes.”

Laena shoved him gently but I could see the amused smile on her face and… was that a little flinch? Laena had evidently met this famous Lucille, then. I smiled and commandeered some of Laena’s wine, having forgotten my own.

“I’m sure we shall meet again soon enough,” I replied as Laena gasped in shock at my brazen theft, the kids giggling at her expression.

“Why did we not have a betrothal feast?” asked Alys, when I returned my stolen goods back to their owner.

“You will have one. Actually, you’ll likely have multiple. I know Lord Roland wishes to throw one at Castamere and Jeyne will almost certainly want one at the Eyrie.” I replied. In truth, I had tried to arrange one after the announcement but Jeyne had been impossibly busy and Lord Roland had agreed to a delay.

And then that delay had become almost a year and a half.

“I can not wait to show you Castamere,” said Rolph. Jocelyn turned to him, bemused, and he took that as a sign to forge on. “It doesn’t look like much from the air but I promise you it is very grand once you get into it.”

“Most of Castamere is underground, is it not?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Rolph nodded, looking proud, and Jocelyn looked a tad more interested then.

“There will be space to let Morrigan rest, yes?” she asked. He nodded again.

“Father is talking of having our own ‘dragonpit’ nearby, solely for Morrigan!” he enthused. I watched, smiling as she turned to face him fully then. Alys grinned too before turning to me.

“What is the Eyrie like?” she asked. “I have never seen it and I am to be its lady one day.” 

“It’s beautiful,” said Laena, before I could speak. “Made of white marble, it sits atop the Giant’s Lance like a crown.”

“Laena speaks truly. It is beautiful. I first saw it when I was lifting a siege and I still had to stop and stare for a few moments despite the urgency of the situation.” She looked thoughtful at that. “Admittedly, parking Vermithor is going to be a nightmare.”

“Will Osgood not build me a dragonpit?” she asked, her half smile indicating she was mostly joking.

“Vhagar could stay there easily,” said Laena. “Vermithor should be okay. The true issue comes with multiple dragons.”

I laid a hand over Alys’ and smiled at her.

“If he turns out to be a horror, I shall cancel the betrothal and weather whatever Jeyne throws my way,” I promised. She smiled and Laena rolled her eyes.

“Alyssa is more than capable of mastering Osgood Arryn, Rhaenyra,” said Laena and Alys paused, looking as if she were unsure if that were a compliment or an insult. At my questioning look, Laena elaborated. “She is the rider of Vermithor and she has your skill with words. Do not be coy, Alyssa, you have a dragon’s fire in you. Or so my mother would say.”

Alys seemed to decide that was a compliment and she smiled, going slightly red.

“Thank you, Aunt Laena,” she murmured. I smiled at Laena, who rolled her eyes again and finished her wine.

“Mama, am I betrothed?” I turned towards Aemma, who much like Rhaena, was looking worried.

“No, my little bookworm,” I replied. “You were to be, but the agreement fell through.”

“To whom?” asked Rhaena. I noted Alys’ laser focus on me and smiled again.

“The young lord Tyrell,” I told them. “My girls… I would have had two ladies of Great Houses and one who might as well be with their power and riches.”

Rolph went red at the praise. 

“Alas, it was not to be. I will find you a match worthy of you, Aemma, do not fear.” Then I glanced at Rhaena. “And you too, if your mother does not beat me to it.”

“You’d probably be best taking her offer,” said Laena, her dry tone making her daughter’s eyes widen. “I fear diplomacy isn’t my strong suit.”

“It really isn’t,” murmured Joffrey and Rhaena broke down into giggles. Laena gave him a shocked look but there was no bite in it and Joffrey summoned an innocent smile in response.

“Fine betrothals,” murmured Allyria Toland and I nearly pulled a muscle in my neck turning to look at her. She flushed slightly, but held my gaze. Next her, Aliandra frowned at her plate, pushing her food around as she sulked. 

“My thanks, Lady Toland. Tell me, have you anyone in mind for yourself?” She looked surprised at the question.

“Not yet, Your Grace. I want to secure myself in Ghost Hill first. I have no doubt work will need to be done.” Her eyes flickered towards Aliandra again, who hadn’t taken her eyes off her food. Then the Princess of Dorne flinched and I realised that the Toland girl must have kicked her under the table. She raised her head and met her friend’s eyes before sighing.

“Luke is fine,” she bit out and Allyria actually frowned at that.

“He will grow up,” I assured her. “And should he misbehave overly much, you have his mother and aunt ready to put him back in line.”

She watched me for a moment before sighing again. But evidently, Allyria, at least, had had enough.

“He is a fine match,” she insisted. “And if he is anything like his parents, he will grow to be a fine man.”

I wanted to frown at that and Aliandra actually did, looking uncertain as she met her friend’s eyes. Allyria forged on.

“I would be proud to have Luke as the prince-consort of Dorne if he were even half of what his mother and father are.” Her expression was fierce. I glanced at Laena, who looked fit to cry at the girl’s defence of her and her son. Even Joffrey was smiling slightly. I knew Laena’s history with Allyria, of course, but Joffrey? When had Joffrey spoken with her?

“My Princess! Come dance with me!?” I glanced up to find a slightly tipsy Laenor half-leaning over Rolph. His eyes were bright and he was panting. This went beyond his usual love of dancing.

“Avoiding your dearest cousin?” I asked and the grimace I got told me I had hit the nail on the head. 

“He’s talking about a tourney now,” he groaned. “Please, my Princess, save me?”

I spared one last glance towards my children and wards before rising.

“Since you asked so nicely, my dear husband.” He grinned once more and took my hand as I picked my way around the table. “Do let me know if Lucille turns up, Laena, I really want to meet her again.”

I left her laughing at Joffrey’s discomfort and Rolph shyly asking Jocelyn to dance with him.


	204. The Stormlands - Chapter 176

“I look forward to seeing you compete, Ser Roland.” The man in question gave me a bright grin.

“I am looking forward to it myself! It’s a pity father won’t be joining us.” He actually looked disappointed at that. Lord Morton Morrigen was rapidly approaching fifty, I was not sure why he would risk his health in a tourney. Maybe it was a Stormlands thing?

“A pity indeed,” I agreed. “But I look forward to seeing the might of the Stormlands, Ser Roland. May the Warrior watch over you.”

“I thank you, Your Grace. Will Ser Laenor be competing?” There was only honest curiosity in his voice.

“I could hardly stop him. He is keen to test himself against his cousin’s vassals.” He was not, but the Stormlands would accept little else. Roland grinned brightly at my confirmation.

“I feared he would be prevented! I pray the Warrior will lend strength to both our arms!” I was never going to get the Stormlands, was I? He looked genuinely thrilled.

“Thank you, Ser Roland,” I replied, feeling awkward. “Tell me, do you know where Lady Elenda is?”

“Likely overseeing the set up of the grounds, Your Grace. Elenda likes a personal touch.” I smiled, yes, I could see that. But…

“You speak as if you know her well?” I asked and he blushed.

“I squired for Ser Royce, Your Grace. I first met her when she was a girl.” Ah, that made sense.

“I am curious, was she as formidable then as she is now?” Ser Roland laughed.

“Oh yes, Your Grace. She has changed little. She was forever bossing us about and we dared not disobey.” He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. “Sometimes, you could mistake her for being the lady of Nightsong instead of her lady mother.”

“I do wonder what they put in the water over there,” I murmured, which made my knightly companion laugh again.

“Tis’ not the water, Your Grace, for her sister is as sweet and meek as any lady should be.” I blinked in surprise at that and he blushed a deep red. “Please, Your Grace, do not mistake that for condemnation.”

“Oh?” I asked. He blushed even redder.

“It is true that most ladies should be ruled by men, for they lack the will to rule themselves.” He licked his lips nervously. “But some ladies have that will, some even greater than men and thus come to rule the men.”

I frowned. That was an… interesting take.

“I grew up with Elenda, Your Grace. I went to Nightsong when I had barely seen eight years. I know well that some women are different. Like yourself and Elenda.”

“And because I have the will of a man, I should rule like a man?” I asked and he nodded, relief evident on his face.

“And if your will should outstrip even Ser Laenor’s, then you should rule him too!” He sounded pleased with his conclusion. “It is quite simple. I do not see why more do not agree. There are men whose will is so weak that they are craven or easily led into crime. Why can there not be women who can rule or do anything else a man may do?”

“It certainly is a… contentious theory,” I murmured. 

“Ah, yes,” he replied. “Father has scolded me enough for sharing it about. I apologise, Your Grace, I meant no disrespect to yourself. You have my support and it shall not waver due to your sex.”

“Well, in that case, I accept your support gratefully, Ser Roland.” He beamed, looking even more pleased.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Might I once again thank you for the honour of the audience and for naming your daughter’s dragon for my family?” He bowed low.

“It was my pleasure,” I replied. “I can think of no worthier name for Morrigan.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. Might I leave to prepare for the tourney?”

“Of course, I look forward to seeing you on the field.”

He left with one final bow and darted out of the room. I resisted the urge to groan. Good grief, of all the theories to come up with… still, I had to keep up with the lords. Morrigen may already be behind me but he was an old man and ensuring his heir was mine too had been a priority. The tourney would be a good place to continue my campaign, I supposed. Most Stormlords would fall behind Borros out of a sense of duty, of course. 

A few were more personally loyal, I had learnt. The Carons were a given, as were the Errols after Cassandra’s betrothal to Lord Cleodan’s grandson. The Morrigens were Borros’ long before I’d accidentally named a dragon after them and that event had merely cemented their allegiance to the Blacks. There were the Conningtons too, they had long since been vocally loyal to me, possibly because the current lord’s brother, Hugh, had spent the last decade in my service on Dragonstone. In fact, ‘Red’ Hugh had met his wife there, if I wasn’t mistaken.

The final devoted ‘Black’ of the Stormlands was, surprisingly, Lord Bryndemere Tarth. According to Borros, the man had taken offence that a prince had been slain upon his island and intended to ensure that Tarth would be remembered for something other than the tragic death of Prince Aemon and what came after. It had been a long time since I had thought about Rhaenys’ faction. It had existed right up until the birth of the twins, I supposed. These ‘Black’ Stormlords had been ‘Seahorses’ before they were mine. Either through their friendship with the old Lord Boremund or other reasons. Still, they were mine and they would make it exceedingly hard for Borros to change his mind. Not that I thought he would, but insurance never hurt anyone.

“Your Grace,” murmured one of my knights. “Your daughter wishes to see you.”

“Which one?” I asked, pouring myself a generous glass of wine.

“Princess Jocelyn, Your Grace.” I took a swallow and hummed, an inkling of what she might want forming in my head.

“Send her in,” I sighed. She stepped in a moment later, still in her practice gear with grass stains covering her padding and mud smeared over her cheek. Her eyes were bright with determination and I wanted to groan at the sight. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I wanted to say yet!” she protested. I put my wine down and leaned forward in my seat.

“You want to enter the squire’s melee.” She flushed, her gaze going to her feet.

“Please, mama,” she whined. “There is no age limit and I am a squire now.”

“It is dangerous,” I told her gently. “You c-”

“So is riding Morrigan! Or a horse! Or even practising the blade! Let me show you how far I’ve come!” Her look was pleading and it was like an arrow to the heart. I dropped my face into my hands and scrubbed at my eyes. She waited in silence, something of a feat for her. I could see her shifting nervously as I thought it over. She was right in that there was no limit and that she was, technically, a squire. Still… 

“We will go to your father for his opinion,” I decided. She nodded, mouth twisting in determination.

“He’s at the yards,” she told me as I rose and pulled my cloak around me. “I was just there. He is with cousin Borros.”

Of course. He did not wish to make a bad showing tomorrow even if he did not desire to make any kind of showing whatsoever. I followed my daughter as she seemingly forced herself to walk at a normal pace back the way she had just come. The air outside was chilly, despite the ongoing summer, and I was glad for the cloak as the wind picked up slightly. I hoped the Stormlands did not live up to their name anytime soon, I had heard enough of that from Laena’s tales of her time here to know I wanted no part in a good storm.

“Papa!” Jocelyn called out when we were close enough. Bemused, he abandoned his current partner, Ser Olyvar Penrose if I wasn’t mistaken and made his way over to us. I spotted Rolph’s distinctive hair nearby as well, watching us all with a hopeful expression of his own.

“What is wrong?” he asked, although taking in my look and Jocelyn’s, I think he knew. 

“Papa, mama said-” I held up a hand and she fell silent.

“Our daughter has requested to be allowed to enter the squire’s melee,” I told him solemnly.

“I see,” he said. “Jocelyn, go and stand over there please. Let your mother and I discuss this.”

She did so, her face bright with hope even as she chewed at her lip nervously. I wanted to groan all over again. When I was certain she stood far enough away that she could not hear us I turned back to Laenor.

“Thoughts?” I asked.

“My gut response is no,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She is still being punished, why let her enter a melee? The exact thing she did to be punished to begin with?”

“My gut response is no as well, but…” Laenor finished my sentence for me.

“It will be difficult to say no.” His tone was gloomy. “She will grieve.”

“I hate playing the strict parent,” I lamented. He nodded in agreement.

“It is my punishment,” he said. “I can tell her.”

“I… thank you.” My tone was more relieved than I wanted it to be. His gaze wandered back to her for a moment and then he winced again.

“The more I think on it… but it is not our tourney,” he stated. I grabbed that ray of hope with both hands and my teeth.

“How about this then? We push all our responsibilities on Borros and absolve ourselves completely.” He laughed at that.

“And if he says yes?” asked Laenor, still chuckling. I gave him a pained smile.

“Then that’s our own damn fault for pushing our responsibilities on Borros. Is he likely to?” At my question, Laenor tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Possibly? He thinks the situation with Jocelyn is funny, but allowing her to join a melee?” He stroked his beard thoughtfully as he reasoned through it.

“Well then, we accept there is a chance he could say yes and it’s the price of potentially avoiding a screaming meltdown or worse from our daughter.” He nodded, then paused.

“Or worse?” he asked. I grimaced.

“I would prefer a screaming meltdown to her retreating inside of herself because her confidence has been so shaken.”

“Ah,” he said, looking as if he agreed. Then he gestured for her to approach. She did so, looking apprehensive and chewing at her lip so much that I thought she might draw blood.

“We have decided that we will allow you,” said Laenor solemnly and her face lit up. He held up a hand and her joy flickered. “But, it is not our tourney and a Princess joining the squire’s melee is…”

“Unheard of,” I finished when Laenor hesitated, searching for the right word. I met her violet eyes. “Thus, we must ask Lord Borros. I can not overrule him in his own home. Will you accept his decision?”

“Yes, mama. I swear it.” The urge to giggle at her suddenly solemn face was strong, but I resisted it. 

“I will fetch him,” said Laenor. It was not hard to miss Borros, swinging away on the other side of the yard.

“Thank you, mama,” said Jocelyn. “I… I mean it. Even if Lord Borros says no. I promise I won’t sneak in.”

“I know,” I replied. Then, hoping to alleviate her worry, I continued on. “Although can you imagine the colour your father would turn if you did?”

She almost choked trying to not giggle. I caught her eye and smiled as Laenor and Borros made their way over to us. She grinned back up at me before arranging her face into its solemn mask again.

“What all this then?” asked Borros once he was in range.

“We have a request,” I told him. His gaze wandered across all three of us and he frowned. “My daughter would like to compete in the squire’s melee.”

At my words, he frowned, gaze swinging to Jocelyn as he studied her. She shifted from foot to foot, looking anxious but otherwise said nothing.

“Hmmm,” said Borros, then he waved. “Come with me.”

We followed and I thought that Jocelyn might be sick with nerves. I leaned down and caught her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her hand came up and captured mine briefly, before it dropped again as Borros led us out among the knights and squires, earning us more than a few odd looks.

“Where is your squire, Ser Laenor?” He needn’t have asked, Rolph was by Laenor’s side moments later, his own sparring partner, Orys Baratheon, ambling over after him with no particular speed. “Tell me, young master Rolph, how do you find my son?”

Rolph hesitated, then peered up at Laenor, looking worried. Borros laughed.

“Men aren’t made overnight, boy. Give me your honest opinion, it’ll help him grow!” Orys gave Rolph an encouraging nod as Borros clapped his son on the back. It said a lot about the boy that he barely staggered. What did they feed him? Aemon sprouted up like a weed and Orys was even taller than him…

“He is strong,” said Rolph, “but slow and… he loses his breath too easily as the fight goes on.”

“Ser Alyn has me run laps every morning,” said the young boy cheerfully as his father laughed again.

“Aye, you have the right of it. It’s been noted by my master-at-arms. Tell me, Princess, fancy a match between my boy and you?” Orys suddenly looked nervous even as Jocelyn stood up straight, her eyes eager.

“If Orys wants to,” she replied. Borros looked to his son.

“No one will cast any aspersions on you,” he said. “Win or lose.”

Orys nodded and Jocelyn grinned broadly at us all before a space was cleared by the men and boys around us. I had to cover my smile as Rolph was nearly bouncing on his toes with the thrill of it all. I watched as the two were handed their practice blades. It was hard to remember Jocelyn was three years Orys’ elder when they nearly stood eye to eye. They began slowly, to the odd cheer from then men in the crowd. Some called for Orys to win and others called for Jocelyn. She flushed and I knew why. Those cheering for her were taunting Orys more than supporting her. 

Even I could see what Rolph had said about Orys was true. When he finally struck, he did so overwhelmingly, and if Jocelyn hadn’t thrown herself to the side, I had no doubt he would have scored a hit. But he also barely managed to knock away her own answering hit. I hooked my arm through Laenor’s and took his hand. He smiled at me before he went back to watching the bout. They traded light blows for a while, Jocelyn staying out of his reach where he could bring his true strength to bear, relying on speed to avoid being pinned by him.

In Orys’ defence, he tired a lot slower than I thought he would, moving slowly and conserving his stamina for a few relatively quick hits when she did come into his range, but I had a feeling the match had been over the moment Rolph had let on to Orys’ main weakness. It was clear that at least some of Steffon’s brutal regime had been focused on stamina because Jocelyn was breathing hard but still relatively fresh when Orys stumbled and she rained down blows on him. Moments later, Borros called a halt to the match. Before he could say anything though, Orys threw aside his blade and clapped Jocelyn on the back, seemingly in good cheer.

“We should fight more often!” he said loudly. “You have a fairly unique style!”

Laenor let out a sigh of relief as Borros congratulated both children on a match well fought. Orys was quick to get back to his studies, flushing red under his father’s loud and slightly excessive praise. Jocelyn practically skipped over to us, her eyes bright but looking as if she could do with a nap. She still hadn’t quite gotten her breathing under control.

“Well done,” I said warmly as Laenor reached out to embrace her.

“Indeed,” rumbled Borros as he followed in her wake. “Quite the little dragon.”

She pried her head out of Laenor’s midsection to gaze at him in hope. Borros turned to me, smiling.

“I’ll allow it,” he said finally. I wasn’t too disappointed, despite knowing I should be. I had known, I think, the moment she’d beaten Orys. “But I accept no fault if she gets herself injured.”

“I understand,” I said solemnly, before smiling. “Thank you, Lord Baratheon.”

He waved me off, but I fancied he looked quite pleased with himself as he turned to disappear into the yard once more.


	205. The Stormlands - Chapter 177

“My lord, I must protest!” At the call, Borros froze and I half choked on air. Laenor flushed red and tightened his hold about Jocelyn’s shoulders. I dared not look at my daughter’s face as the man that had called out made himself known. “It is an insult to allow a mere girl into such a tourney. You make a mockery of all those who would compete.”

Borros scowled at his bannerman as I let my own gaze become chilly. Not that it deterred Lord Ronald Dondarrion, as he met my gaze with a steely look of his own before turning his attention back to Borros. The Lord of the Stormlands did not seem impressed. How much of his agreement was his own belief Jocelyn should be allowed to compete and how much was him humouring me, though?

“It’s my bloody tourney, Ronald,” said Borros finally. There were a multitude of eyes on us, I realised. How many silently agreed with Ronald? “I decide who joins and who doesn’t. Don’t act like she isn’t the first girl to enter one.”

“Never so openly,” said Lord Dondarrion, his face screwed up with disgust. 

“Then perhaps it is time,” said Laenor. “We are to have our first Queen, why not our first female knight?”

“You-” Ronald began furiously but Borros cut him off.

“Enough,” he roared. “Bar women from your own tourneys, Ronald, but this is Storm’s End.”

Lord Ronald turned back to him, his face pale with rage as he forced a smile.

“Of course, my lord,” he murmured through gritted teeth. Borros watched him with angry eyes as he retreated from the yard. 

“Humph, arrogant little pi-” he muttered when Ronald was gone. Then he seemed to realise just how many eyes were on us. His stormy gaze swung about the knights and lords and he drew himself up, taking in a deep breath. The moment they saw that, they scattered. “Ought to have challenged him.”

“Perhaps,” I murmured. “Thank you for your defence of my daughter.”

He waved away my thanks but I fancied I saw a brief smile on his face in turn.

“They’re quick to forget Cassandra was my heir once,” he told us. Then he looked down at Jocelyn, who was pale and watching him with wide eyes. “Do me a favour, Princess? When you have your majority, kick his bloody arse for me.”

Jocelyn went bright red and he let out a roar of laughter. Then, once it had died away, he clapped Laenor on the back, nearly driving my husband to his knees, and stalked off. I would bet good money that more than a few knights would become victims of his working off steam. I sighed into the sudden, relative silence and turned to Laenor.

“Well, that was eventful.” He grimaced at the statement and then peered down at our daughter.

“Certainly. Come, you have a fight tomorrow and I would see you well prepared for it.” She grinned then and he smiled back warmly. For a moment, she separated from where she had been cuddled close to him and wrapped her arms around my midsection. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Evidently Ronald Dondarrion’s criticism had paled in comparison to joining a tourney with full permission from us. I left them there, talking over the tourney and how tomorrow would go. Despite her excitement, there was a note of worry in her voice as her nerves no doubt began to make themselves known. Mercifully, I heard little more from Ronald Dondarrion, although I was sure to let Joffrey know about our brief clash. I almost felt sorry for the man. Borros might keep it to himself, having judged the man sufficiently cowed, but Joffrey would hand the matter off to Elenda. 

In fact, the entire rest of the day passed by without a notable incident. I continued making my rounds, meeting with Lord Whitehead, Lord Estermont and the new Lord Buckler. Each were Doves that were mine as long as Borros remained mine. Andrew Buckler put me in mind of a nervous puppy dog, forever unsure if it had done something wrong. In truth, I thought he might leave the room at the sight of me, but both his compatriots held him in place.

Lester Estermont was a holdover from Boremund’s days and he would follow Borros into the Seven Hells themselves. Not that he approved of me, I did not miss the slight sneer he was trying to hide or the way his gaze bore judgement I would call out from anyone else. Lord Jack Whitehead was a refreshing change, at least. He had been a minor lord until the war with Dorne, when my father had used his lands as a base to launch his fleets from. Lyman had seen a lot of the Crown’s money invested in the newly named King’s Town, and no one could deny Jack Whitehead had benefited immensely. He was perhaps the only Stormlord I’d met to date that had eagerly asked after Aliandra out of genuine kindness.

My meeting with them took me well into the night, though, and I took my evening meal alone, crawling into bed alongside Laenor who was already snoring away, a frown on his face even in his sleep. Despite the late night, though, I slept well. The quarters Elenda had set aside for us were very much fit for royalty and decorated in black and red to boot. I had to hand it to her, I thought, as Sera and Sabitha attended to me the next morning, she knew how to make a statement. I recalled Roland’s words from the day before and strangled a smile. 

Perhaps she had always been that way. I certainly hoped so. I did not want to think on what traumas could turn a woman into such a creature. One who would discard her children so brazenly or-

“Your Grace.” I blinked my way from my thoughts. One of Steffon’s knights stood in the doorway, his face strained. “Lady Laena and Lady Falena request your attendance in the feasting hall.”

“Seven Hells,” murmured Sabitha. “What’s happened now?”

“Sab!” Sera chided her, delivering a light smack to her friend’s arm. “Be mindful of your language.”

There was an amused sparkle in her eye. I might have played along but…

“Not an emergency, I hope?” I asked. The knight shook his head.

“I was told to say that the matter pertained to your children, Your Grace.” I felt my breath leave me until I studied his face proper. He was young but even he could not be calm if something had befallen any of them. Sera’s head shot up, that same worry in her gaze as my own eased. Sab retrieved my prosthetic and passed it over. We were out of the room quickly after that, following the knight as he led us through the twisting passages. There was no real hurry in his gait and what little worry I still felt left me entirely. No, this was no emergency or injury.

The question remained, of course, which one had been apprehended in the middle of some wrongdoing and who would I need to discipline now. The knight led me to a small chamber just off the Feasting Hall with another of his brethren standing guard. I was not sure I was supposed to see the long-suffering look they threw at one another, so I let the matter slide in favour of pushing open the door.

Aemma and Alys sat inside, each with red and blotchy faces that indicated tears had been shed. Laena sat between them, as if to present some physical barrier, and I did not miss the red on her cheek either. I took in the room for a moment and then let my displeasure show on my face. A fight, then, one that had gotten physical or come so close as to not matter. I suppose it was too much to hope they’d waited until they’d left the Hall?

I decided to start with Laena, I wanted to hear the truth before I came down on them like a dragon with a hangover.

“Which one hit you?” I asked, voice colder than intended. Whatever explanations Alys and her sister had been about to deliver died on their lips as each went pale. Laena snorted, raising her hand to touch her face.

“Neither. This was Rhaena.” I raised an eyebrow. “She decided to weigh in on Aemma’s side and took badly to me lifting her up.”

“Did you strain yourself?” I asked quickly. She shook her head and let her hand fall.

“Only my voice when I sent her to her rooms,” she tried to chuckle. The lame attempt at humour served to spark my temper again and I swallowed heavily.

“I will swear that Lady Laena tells the truth.” I nearly leapt in fright as Falena revealed she’d been standing in the corner the entire time. From the looks of it, neither Sab or Sera had spotted her either. I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself focused. No tantrums, no meltdowns.

“Tell me, how many people saw this?” Two sets of violet eyes flashed dangerously but were silenced by my own arctic glare again.

“Not many of import, but enough. Lord Fell and Lord Staedmon were present. A multitude of knights and servants.” It would be all over the castle by now, then. I rubbed at the bridge of my nose and let my breath hiss through my teeth. My blood pounded loud in my ears for a moment.

“Explain,” I finally managed to bite out.

“She-”

“I only said-”

“No!” I barked. “One at a time. Alys?”

My secondborn glared at me for a moment before clenching her jaw tightly, as if she was trying to ward off tears. I waited in the silence for a moment, all eyes intent on her.

“Maris and Cassandra were being terrible to one another,” she finally said. “And I said that no sisters ought to be like that. And then that little horror-!”

“No name calling,” I told her sternly and she grimaced. “Apologise, now.”

“Sorry,” she all but spat. “Then Aemma said I was just as bad as them! And she said such cruel things, Mama!” 

There were tears rolling down her face now. I wanted to wipe them away, but Aemma would see it as favouritism and I could not afford that. Not with Alys, not here and not now. My behaviour had bred resentment before… I let my gaze flit to Aemma, who was staring at her shoes with her hands balled up.

“Aemma?” I asked, keeping any accusation from my voice. She wiped her own tears away on her sleeve before directing an angry glare in Alys’ direction.

“It wasn’t my fault! She was acting like she never did anything wrong!” Alys went to reply but was stopped with a look from both Laena and I.

“And you decided to respond by being cruel yourself?” I asked and she flushed, anger on her features. “So tell me, which one of you attacked the other?”

There was a dreadful silence after that before Alys raised her hand, looking pale once more.

“It was me, Mama. I just wanted her to stop saying those horrible things!” Aemma’s head shot up, her eyes wide. She, at least, had given away the lie, even if I would not have been able to tell Alys was lying. I caught Laena and Fal’s gazes, but neither seemed eager to correct her. Perhaps they had not seen?

“Is that so?” I asked coolly. There was no way she could not know I had seen through the lie.

“Yes, Mama,” she said firmly, her eyes meeting mine. She swallowed nervously when I continued to level my gaze at her but she did not waver.

“Then you will both be punished. Aemma, it was wrong of you to say those things.” She nodded, still not quite able to stop peering at Alys as if she had never seen her sister before. “You will be writing lines and I expect an apology letter to your sister and to our hosts.”

“Yes, Mama,” she said, finally looking at me. Her anger was gone, replaced with a puzzled expression. “I am sorry. I was just angry.”

“We will speak about it properly when there is not a betrothal celebration going on,” I told her and she grimaced. “I would recommend apologising to Aemon as well.”

“Yes, Mama,” she whispered. I turned to Alys and let my annoyance creep back into my expression. She swallowed nervously again. Well, if she wanted to lie to me, she could have the consequences to go along with it.

“You will spend the day in the sept,” I told her. “And you will think on all you have done. Falena, are you able to go with her?”

My lady bowed, her expression unreadable.

“I am, Your Grace.” I looked back to Alys, who looked as if she were about to throw up. For a moment, I thought she might break and admit it was Aemma. For a moment, I thought Aemma might break as the implication of missing the tourney dawned on them both. Then Alys shot Aemma a look and my youngest daughter’s mouth snapped closed. I sighed, the anger draining away and leaving a headache in its wake.

“Go,” I told them. Falena stepped forward and nodded to Alys. “Sera, would you take Aemma to the stands. She is not to leave your sight.”

“Of course,” said Sera. Her gaze was sad as she reached out and took Aemma’s hand. Both ladies trooped out with their respective new charges and I lowered myself down next to Laena.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I was distracted and before I knew it, they were brawling like two drunkards.”

I winced, even as Sab tried to hide her smile with her hand and failed.

“It’s not your fault. What has become of Rhaena?” Laena snorted and touched her cheek again.

“Off to her rooms, under the watchful eye of Ser Alric. I am not the best mother, Rhaenyra, Seven Hells, I’m probably not even a good one, but I won’t put up with her slapping, biting and cursing as she did.” I winced at her words and dropped my arm about her.

“You love them,” I said quietly. “And it’s getting better.”

“It was,” she murmured back. Silence reigned supreme for some time until Sab coughed politely.

“She bit you?” she asked when we both turned to her. Laena gave her a pained smile and raised her other hand, twisting it so we could see the blotchy red imprints that could be teeth if you squinted. No broken flesh, but I’d put money on it bruising before long.

“Where does she get it from?” I asked, taking Laena’s hand and resisting the urge to brush my lips over her injury. From the suddenly amused look on Sab’s face, that want must have been as clear as day.

“We could spend all day wondering,” said my lady. “Or we could make a run for the grounds. A certain Princess is competing and-” 

I was on my feet before her sentence was finished, rushing for the door. I could not miss the melee. The worry and guilt would drive me mad. I heard Sab laughing and promising to make sure Laena got there safely too. I must have looked so very undignified, running as I was in my dress, tailed by a knight who was having to put more than a little effort in to keep up with me.

Ah well. Maybe people would speak of that and not my daughters. It was too much to hope.


	206. The Stormlands - Chapter 178

I made it in time to catch the squires entering the melee. The box reserved for our party was nigh on deserted, with only a worried looking Joffrey, Sera and Aemma present. I dropped into my chair and gasped like a fish on land for a few moments as various parts of my body made their complaints at having made such a run. Aemma didn’t even twitch in her seat to acknowledge my arrival.

“What has happened?” Jofrrey asked, looking mystified. “You were supposed to meet Laenor before-”

He stopped when he saw I was in no fit state to reply. By the time my breath was back Laena and Sab had arrived, and the final preparations were being made. There would be no teams in the melee. An all out brawl… worry bloomed in my gut before I reminded myself both Steffon and Laenor thought she could do this. It did not help all that much. It was some time before I managed to reply to Joffrey, although that was more from my body's protests than fear. 

“I had to hand out punishment,” I replied, voice raw. I saw his eyes flicker to Aemma and his lips thin. Then they travelled to beyond my shoulder, where Laena sat.

“Rhaena is in her rooms,” she said. Joffrey sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He might have said something, or argued, but the horn sounded and all of us twisted in our seats to watch those painfully small figures charge into an all out battle. I picked Jocelyn out straight away. She was hanging back, using the nimble speed I’d seen in her fight against Orys to avoid danger and score a few lucky hits every now and again. She hadn’t truly engaged anyone yet, and to my untrained eye… it almost appeared as if she was looking for someone…

I lost sight of her as two impossibly large squires took one another on. The crowd was cheering - even in the squire’s melee there would be favourites. I forced my breathing to remain calm and measured as one squire forced his opponent back and I could see where my daughter was once more. She was still hovering. I frowned and glanced at Joffrey. He looked a million miles away, as if he were not truly watching the melee. No help from that quarter, then.

“Is she supposed to be hiding like that?” I asked Sab and Laena. Laena shrugged but Sab shook her head.

“Most squires have an unspoken agreement to not attack the younger ones unless they have to… but I admit it’s odd she hasn’t moved in.” Perhaps she was picking her fights, conserving stamina… that did not put me at ease at all. That meant she’d still be in once her peers were gone, leaving her facing boys half a decade older. Then, even as I sat fretting and pulling at my glove, she moved in. I let out a sigh even as Sab started laughing.

“What?” I half-demanded. 

“She had a target,” Sab laughed. “Look, she’s going right for someone.”

I peered at Jocelyn intently, trying to follow who she was heading for. When I saw him, I knew her target immediately. A Dondarrion… I let my face fall into my hand. He was lanky more than big, but I knew for a fact that Harys Dandarrion was nearing fourteen years of age. Could Jocelyn beat him? I sure hope so because if I had to look at Ronald Dondarrion’s smug face I’d probably throw him off the walls of Storm’s End…

“Rolph is doing well,” said Laena, but all our eyes were on Jocelyn. I elbowed Joffrey and pointed to where the two fighters were sizing one another up.

“Is he likely to beat her?” I asked, voice anxious. Joffrey rubbed his side, annoyed, but humoured me. He watched them for a moment and then hummed thoughtfully.

“He has height but he also has a lot of bad habits. Jocelyn is smaller, quicker and Steffon’s largely beaten her worse behaviours out of her. Still, she lacks experience and he has it in spades. It’ll be close.” That did not reassure me. He gave me an apologetic smile and I rubbed at my temples, earlier headache hard to ignore when my heart was pounding in my ears as each squire finally struck.

I could hear both Sab, Joffrey and even Laena making noises of approval or whispering advice… not for the first time I wished I knew all this. The Seven knew it would have been hard to learn the blade but I could have done. After my wedding, little held me back, but it had always seemed such a foolish idea. To expend time and effort arguing with father over it and…

I nearly yelled aloud when Dondarrion landed a fairly solid blow on her ribs. My hands gripped the arms of my seat so hard that my fingers ached bitterly. The rest of them were nearly out of their seats entirely and Aemma was on her feet, yelling loudly for Jocelyn. I watched as she backed off, putting some space between her and the Dondarrion squire.

“Comeoncomeoncomeon-” I found myself hissing as he pursued, unwilling to let her catch her breath. She was moving much slower than she had before and something in my gut told me that the blow had been harder than I had first realised. She dodged and parried for a few seconds, clearly trying to get her breath back.

“What is he doing?” asked Joffrey. “He’s playing with her.”

“I thought so too,” said Laena. “He should be pushing harder, but he’s allowing her space.”

“On purpose?” I asked. Joffrey squinted at the two.

“Hard to tell,” he finally judged. “He could be hesitating about going all in on a girl, but if she’s smart, it’ll cost him… or he could be boasting?”

I watched as Harys stopped, letting Jocelyn back up and regain her space before charging forward-

“On no, he isn’t,” said Sab.

“He is,” replied Laena in a whisper.

-and leaping at my daughter, bringing his sword over his head and swinging viciously at her. If it had hit, maybe, it would have hurt. I watched in horror as my daughter leapt away and Harys crashed into the ground where she had been, kicking up a spray of mud and grass.

“Of all the… squires…” groaned Joffrey, putting his face in his hands. “His master will kill him if he- ah, there she goes.”

I turned back to the match as Jocelyn went to town on him, raining down blow after blow until she had him in full retreat, barely able to keep up with her. He must have twisted his ankle with that landing, I realised, because it was almost possible to make out the limp from here. Finally, he dropped his blade and yielded. I groaned as tension left my body.

“This is so stressful, how do they do it?” I asked no one in particular. The others just laughed.

“Look, she’s found another to fight now.” I peeked out from behind my hand to find her engaged with some squire I did not recognise. It was obvious she had the upper hand though, and she soon dispatched him. Joffrey laughed.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he told me. “She was better matched against him than I would have thought. She should be fine.”

“Should-” Laena cut me off by gasping. I turned to find Jocelyn facing down a squire in Buckler colours. There were far fewer squires now, I noted. I knew straight away Jocelyn would not win this one. She could barely parry and dodge his blows and he was forcing her steadily backwards. One good blow later and my daughter yielded. At least she didn’t appear to be overly injured, I reflected as she quit the field. I sat on my urge to run down there, Laenor would meet her and I had to watch the rest of it.

Jocelyn had stayed in a respectable amount of time, though, I realised as the boy who took her out turned and engaged another. Rolph’s colours caught my eye as I realised he was still in as well. There were maybe fifteen left out of the mass of squires that had poured onto the field at the beginning. Some of them were good… really good. Of those that were left I’d bet three or four of them could face Laenor and have a chance of victory. One by one they fell. Rolph made the top ten, at least. He fell to the same boy that defeated Jocelyn in the end, though. 

A strange pride welled up in me when that same boy won. Both Jocelyn and Rolph had lost to the ultimate winner and that was no small thing. In truth, I knew they could have lost to a multitude of others, but they had not, in this instance. I smiled as I rose.

“I am off to meet our little heroes,” I told the box. I received a few indulgent smiles for my trouble. Aemma looked at me, biting her lip briefly.

“Will you say well done to Jocelyn?” she asked in a small voice. I nodded and she smiled briefly.

“Of course, Aemma. To Rolph as well?” That got a nod in return. I left then, my ever present guard on my tail. It was not hard to find my husband, his squire or my daughter and when I did, I drew her into a fierce hug. When she pulled back, she had a grimace on her face that spoke of some pain. Not that she was letting that get her down, if her shining eyes were any indication.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes! Did you see, mama? I beat Harys and Fletch and-” I waved a hand, laughing, and she trailed off, grinning.

“I saw both of you. Well done,” I told them. “Your sister made herself hoarse cheering for you.”

“Aemma? Where is Alyssa anyway?” asked Jocelyn. I bit back a sigh as Laenor raised an eyebrow. He’d been waiting for them both in full armour. He would be jousting soon enough. Only early, simple bouts before the main event tomorrow.

“Punishment,” I finally said. “She and Aemma got into an argument. No need to worry though, it’s only for a day. Don’t let it ruin this.”

She smiled, briefly uncertain, and then she let out a squeal and threw her arms around Rolph’s shoulders.

“Did you see!?” she asked him and he winced, then laughed.

“I did!” he replied. I smiled at Laenor, their enthusiasm doing much to lift my mood. He grinned back.

“The boy who won was good,” I said, as I noted him passing through. Andrew Buckler was there… surely the man was too young to be a father to a boy that old…

“He has talent, yes,” said Laenor. An idea popped into my mind then and I smiled. Laenor sighed.

“What scheme have you decided on now?” he asked, more amused than annoyed.

“Perhaps you might offer to knight him. The future prince of the realm and Lord of the Tides-” His chuckle cut me off.

“And it would do much to endear Andrew Buckler to you?” he asked and I flushed, caught. “Clifford is his brother, if you must know. I will ask him.”

“You’re knighting Clifford?” asked Rolph, overhearing and half-pulling back from the still attached to him Jocelyn.

“I will offer to, I trust my squire and daughter have no objections?” said Laenor. Both shook their heads quickly.

“He’s good,” said Jocelyn by way of explanation. We made our way over after that, there was little more to say on the matter.

“Congratulations on your win, master Clifford.” He went pink at my words and bowed. Andrew looked as if he wanted to leap into a nearby tent and hide but managed a smile regardless.

“T-thank you, Your Grace,” stammered the boy, looking to his older brother in a panic.

“My daughter and my squire tell me you are an excellent fighter. I’m of a mind to agree.” At Laenor’s words, the boy went even redder. “Has your master made any plans to knight you?”

“Ser Justin… that is… uh.” He looked desperately at his brother again.

“I would like to discuss such matters with him,” said Laenor smoothly, as if he hadn’t heard the boy’s stammering. “Is that agreeable?”

“Yes?” he replied. Through it all, Andrew just looked lost. He had only recently inherited his father’s title… something told me he had been completely unprepared to do so. I should have a look at the story there. Had he been a second son? It was not unusual for accidents to befall an heir, training your second was considered good practice but not all did it.

“Excellent, are you competing in the lists, Lord Andrew?” I asked and that seemed to rouse him from whatever panic he was in.

“Yes, Your Grace!” he told me, pride evident. I smiled at that. “I have been looking forward to the tourney for months. I know he only announced it recently but Borros…. That is, Lord Baratheon, we grew up together and-”

“Tourneys are certainly a love of his,” I said and he laughed, even if it was strained. “You grew up together? Forgive me, I thought Lord Borros older than yourself?”

Which was how I ended up learning all about Borros’ tumultuous childhood and a lot more about Boremund Baratheon than I ever thought I needed to know. By the end of it, though, Andrew Buckler was much more at ease with me, so I would count it as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone's comments! I am hoping to start replying individually soon enough once more but I wanted to let you know that I've read them all and I really appreciate all the feedback you've all given me.


	207. The Stormlands - Chapter 179

Another cheer split the air of the tourney grounds as a knight sent his opponent toppling to the floor and the announcer began calling out the name of the winner. As they cleared the grounds, the air in the box changed and I smiled, catching Joffrey doing the same thing. The children were practically on the edge of their seats, ready to leap up the moment their father entered the field. Even Rhaena was bouncing about, grinning along with Aemma. I sensed the spat from yesterday was far from resolved, an awkward air hanging between Aemma and Alys, but they had been civil and so I had let it drop. 

“I wonder who they wish to win,” murmured Joffrey, smiling indulgently as Laenor rode onto the field and the small crowd of children exploded into cheers. He was popular amongst the main crowd as well, it would seem, as well as the box Aemon was sat in next to his betrothed. Laenor had unhorsed more than a few opponents yesterday and this morning. No one could argue he had not made a good showing, at least. Even Aliandra was caught up in it, nudging the much quieter Allyria into cheering with her.

“He’s made a good showing so far,” I commented. “Your influence?”

“He was always a better rider than swordsman,” said Joffrey, pride in his voice. Laenor’s opponent rode out then, to more cheers from the crowd. I shot Alys a dark look for booing him before she set off the rest of them. She gave me an impish smile before nudging Jocelyn and pointing something out. I rolled my eyes as Joffrey chuckled.

“I see her time in the sept did wonders,” he joked. 

“It’s a shame, this might be a knight I could get behind booing,” snarked Laena, earning herself an annoyed look from Joffrey. I was about to open my mouth and ask just why she so disliked Ser Renly Bolling when the children began cheering for their father once more. The sound of hooves and the roar of the crowd was momentarily all I could hear… then the smash of lances as neither man managed to unhorse his opponent.

“Ignore Laena,” said Joffrey. “Ser Renly is a perfectly fine man. They merely argued the last they met.”

Both men rode again and once again failed to unhorse each other. Not that such facts had any effect on my children’s wild cheering.

“Argued?” I asked as they prepared to tilt once more, Rolph handing the lance to Laenor and Ser Renly Bolling’s own squire doing the same for him. Jocelyn had been heartbroken to learn that Ser Steffon would not be competing - she had hopes of heading out there herself and performing the duties of a true squire. Now that she had a taste of it, I sensed she’d be badgering the poor man to attend every tourney he conceivably could.

“He had a few choice-” he broke off with a backwards whistle through his teeth that never spoke of anything good. I turned to catch Laenor still on his horse - barely. The children’s cheers took on a more frantic nature. Sensing I wouldn’t get more out of the suddenly intent Joffrey, I watched as they lined up once more. Three lances broken and it was not looking good for Laenor, even I could see that.

We all watched, transfixed and barely breathing, as they rode once again. The thunder of hooves… A groan went up when Laenor was thrown from his horse, before the cheering for Ser Renly rose in volume once more. 

“A shame,” said Laena. “I thought he’d at least manage Ser Renly.”

“He did well,” I said, feeling offended on his behalf. She caught my gaze for a moment, her smile soft, letting me know there was no bite to her criticism. I relaxed back into my chair and nodded. No harm done and the children had not heard, they’d raise hell if they had, of that I had little doubt. They began announcing the next tilt and I turned back to the field.

Lord Ormund Staedmon to ride against Ser Olyvar Penrose. I spotted the familiar form of Harys Dondarrion handing a lance to Ser Olyvar and smiled. If rumour were right, the man had taken his squire to task for his foolish manoeuvre during the melee. Both Laenor and Joffrey had smugly informed me of the boy running laps and being put to work with the sword until late last night as a lesson to never do such again. As unlikely as his overhead jumping swing was to have actually landed, if it had, it could have done more damage to Jocelyn, or indeed anyone, than was strictly acceptable in a squire’s melee. Accidents happened but that would have been no accident, Ser Olyvar had reportedly been bellowing at him.

Poor boy, even if I could not feel too much sympathy for him. The two knights rode and it was immediately obvious as to who would emerge triumphant. Lord Ormund barely survived the first tilt and even then I suspected that was mostly due to luck.

“What is Lord Ormund’s position?” I asked Joffrey as they prepared once more. Normally, I might not have paid so much attention but Lord Ormund… his armour was more fit for a Reach knight than a Stormlander. It stood out, edged in silver and gleaming in the summer sun. Even Laenor’s relatively dull Valyrian style stood out among the Stormlander’s pragmatic plate. It had clearly not done its job though, the Lord of Broadarch was sitting oddly in his saddle. I would not put money on him losing the next tilt, Ser Olyvar did not appear to be the type to play with his opponent. 

“He proclaims to be yours,” replied Joffrey. “Yet he is known to be something of a follower. I sense he is only doing so to win his way into Borros’ inner circle. His father enjoyed Lord Boremund’s favour as his former squire, but Lord Ormund has never been able to recreate that with Borros himself.”

“I see,” I replied, watching as his horse moved restlessly underneath him. 

“Ser Olyvar is one to watch,” Joffrey told me. “He is heir to his father. Willis has been ailing for years, Ser Olyvar is lord in all but name now.”

“Whom does he favour?” I asked.

“Himself,” replied Joffrey. “He’s been more than friendly with those Green Knights hanging around here but has made no announcement either way.”

I winced as Lord Ormund was thrown from his saddle to the cheers of the crowd.

“A shame, he seems competent at least.” Joffrey nodded as both Harys Dondarrion and Lord Ormund’s squire were required to lift the luckless lord from the mud. He limped off, bravely waving as the crowd mustered a few cheers for good showmanship. I grimaced as he half turned, revealing a dent in the side of his armour that spoke of broken ribs. Then he was gone, escorted by the two squires.

“Your Grace, Lady Lucille Bolling requests to meet with you,” murmured one of my knights in my ear. I was confused for a few moments and then I saw both Laena and Joffrey freeze in their seats. I smiled, sure that I must look like a shark that had tasted blood in the water.

“Ser Renly’s wife?” I asked, trying for innocence and missing. Joffrey nodded stiffly. “Send her through, Ser.”

He nodded and disappeared for a moment as Laena seemed to resign herself to her goodsister’s presence and dropped her head into her hands with a groan. Joffrey just sighed.

“I hope you know what you’ve let yourself in for,” he told me in a dull tone. Then Lucille Bolling arrived, her greetings a breathless rush I could barely keep up with. Her bow was respectful enough.

“Your Grace, I am delighted to fina-” 

“Auntie Luce!” squealed Rhaena, upon noticing the new arrival. The woman laughed and held out her arms for Rhaena to run to her. I took the moment to truly examine her. She had mud brown hair and eyes, much as I remembered. Plain by my own standards, even if I felt bad for thinking such a thing. I smiled as she fussed over her niece, ruffling the girl’s hair despite her protests.

“Aemma! Aemma! This is auntie Luce! She’s married to uncle Renly, didn’t I tell you-” My daughter was nodding along, looking amused. I gave Joffrey another look as Rhaena finally drifted back to the tourney as a new set of riders prepared to tilt. Lucille took a seat by Joffrey and smiled at us all.

“Joff, have you been hiding from me? I would have thought you would at least visit father- where is Luke? Is he squiring? I have not seen him, did he get into trouble again? I heard about the fight yesterday, you see, and thought he might have been involved but Lady Arra tells me that was Rhaena, which doesn’t sound like Rhaena at all! So-” I blinked as Joffrey waved at her desperately to stop talking.

“Luke isn’t here,” said Joffrey quietly. “He’s with Lord Corlys as his sq-”

“Did she make that decision?” asked Lucille, voice suddenly cold. Dark eyes flickered towards Laena, who straightened in her seat and met them with a cool gaze of her own.

“I put it forth,” I said as a beat too long of silence passed. Lucille blinked and then looked at me. “Rhaena and Luke are dear to me. I wanted the best for them, I apologise if you were looking forward to his visit, Lady Lucille.”

“My apologies, Your Grace, Lady Laena. I was, he’s such a clever boy and I much enjoy our chats.” Joffrey laid a hand over her own and offered her a smile, even as Laena gave me her own little one.

“He was looking forward to seeing you too,” said Laena, in the tone of someone offering a conciliatory gesture. “He has written to say he will be joining us for a visit soon enough anyway.” 

This was news to me, but I refrained from shooting her a questioning look.

“Yes, you will be able to teach him your bad habits soon enough,” joked Joffrey, likely searching for some way to lighten the sudden tension. Lucille smiled.

“Bad habits, what are you accusing me of? I’m teaching him valuable skills!” she protested.

“What skills are these?” I asked, curious despite myself. Lucille smiled conspiratorially. 

“The knowledge of people, Your Grace,” she half-whispered. I noted the sudden curiosity from Aemma and Rhaena and made a show of leaning in forward, watching their eyes widen as they glanced at one another. Evidently, Lucille had caught onto the game too because her smile only widened in delight.

“Do tell.” The two scooched a little closer and it was I who broke first, drawing Aemma onto my knee as she protested mildly. “Come now, little one. What have I said about eavesdropping?”

“Oh, I highly encourage it,” said Lucille, similarly settling Rhaena on her knee. “You learn all sorts of interesting things, don’t you, Joff?”

Joffrey rolled his eyes and made a show of watching the next round of knights take to the field, but apart from him, all eyes were now on us. Lucille poked Rhaena’s cheek.

“Your father is rude, do you know that? I hope you don’t pick up his habits.” Rhaena laughed along and Joffrey rolled his eyes again. I caught Laena’s gaze, a little unsure, but she just shrugged. Evidently she and Lucille were well familiar with one another.

“What sort of interesting things?” asked Aemma. 

“Oh well, did you know of the knight and the lady?” asked Lucille, her expression smug. Aemma and Rhaena shook their heads, looking curious. “A tale of doomed romance, happening the very moment under our noses!”

“Is this an appropriate tale to tell?” asked Laena, her tone chilly. Lucille’s eyes narrowed and then her lips pursed. Was this someone Laena knew? Was this Lucille’s way of subtly taunting her goodsister? Given Joffrey was suddenly intent as well… 

“You see, there is a knight here who has fallen in love. He confessed to her, you see, and she confessed she loved him back.” Aemma and Rhaena were hanging on every word but I could hear Laena grinding her teeth behind me. Confused, I glanced backwards. That look of fury…

“Perhaps this is not the best tale to tell if it concerns true people,” I murmured, to the immediate protest of Aemma, Rhaena and half the children in the box.

“If Her Grace wishes?” said Lucille.

“No! No! Mama, please?” Aemma gave me a heartbroken look and I winced. “Mama, pleeeeease.”

“Oh for the love of-” muttered Joffrey. “See what you have done now, Lucille? You’ve put her in an impossible position!”

Lucille flushed red even as Laena scowled away and the children fell silent, sensing more than just a fun tale was happening. I winced again, for entirely unrelated reasons. I was fairly sure who the knight was now. Only one type took vows these days that would reasonably prevent marriage… which meant if I were made aware of such a knight breaking his vows-

“I assure you, Your Grace, nothing untoward is going on,” Lucille said hastily. “’Tis merely a tale of courtly love. Notes and gifts exchanged back and forth, that is all.”

“They can’t even kiss?” asked Aemma. “But why?”

“Because Ser Steffon swore vows,” snapped Laena. “And he keeps his vows. You should not have exposed them to snipe at me!”

“As if everything involves you-” Lucille started, anger flickering over her features.

“Stop this now,” I said firmly. “I have no doubt that Ser Steffon remains true to his vows and I will not hear of any accusations he has somehow broken them. It is not a crime to fall in love. Tell me, which of my ladies is it? Not Marya or Maris, I do hope.”

Laena sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s Falena.”

I just managed to keep the surprise off my face, instead catching sight of Jocelyn who looked as if she was only just hearing of Ser Steffon. Clearly he was remarkably discrete then. I had never even seen them speak, when had they had time to develop a romance of all things?

“Then as long as it does not progress, I see no reason for intervention.” At my decision, Laena relaxed in her chair although Lucille still looked on edge. Of course, she had swept in and started a fight with Laena. Perhaps she should have known better to wave the Lonmouth’s dislike for her in my face but…

“Perhaps a much lighter tale, Lady Lucille?” I asked. She nodded and relaxed slightly before repositioning Rhaena on her knee.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she murmured. There were still wide-eyed stares being thrown about by the children even as she began recounting an old Stormlander myth about Elenei and Durran Godsgrief’s youngest son.


	208. The Stormlands - Chapter 180

In the end, it was Ser Olyvar Penrose who took the day. He crowned his sister the Queen of Love and Beauty, which was likely for the best. Had he crowned Maris or Cassandra, the other would have ripped him to shreds. The day ended on the melee and Laenor put on a good enough showing to make it to the final twenty of about fifty knights - it certainly had Borros clapping him over the back and congratulating him whenever he spied him in the feasting hall. I hid my smile behind my hand as Laenor was forced to lean on a chair to recover as Borros strode away again.

“Your Grace.” I froze and then turned, forcing my face into a neutral mask.

“Lord Wylde,” I said, tone full of false politeness. “I did not see you here, I assumed you had been unable to make it?”

Jasper smiled, although there was no warmth in it.

“I was delayed but I sent my son along ahead. Did Maric not make himself known?” Maric? His son, I presumed. If he was anything like his father, I had no doubt he’d spent most of his time with the small minority of Green knights that had found their way here.

“Alas, he did not. Perhaps the tourney had him distracted?” I suggested and Jasper’s face darkened for a second before it smoothed over into a smile.

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “He placed well, clearly his preoccupation paid off.”

“Then he has my congratulations, you must be very proud.” Jasper nodded, looking thoughtful. “Tell me, Lord Jasper, how are your lands faring?”

“Well, Your Grace, it has been something of a relief to finally be home once more.” He stopped and then hesitated. “I did not seek you out to engage in small talk, I’m afraid, Your Grace.”

I did not tense up, as I had no doubt he wanted me to. Instead, I smiled benignly at him and raised a questioning eyebrow. He shifted into an easy lounge, as if we were engaging in talking of something no greater than the weather.

“News reached me about trouble brewing, Your Grace, directed at your ward.” Damn it, of course I would be too lucky to get out of this without such an incident. He did not smile when I let my annoyance show on my face.

“Whom?” I asked.

“Lord Selmy, I suspect. He has not ventured forth from Harvest Hall since the Conquest of Dorne, yet when word got around that you had been so bold as to bring young Aliandra with you to the heart of the Stormlands-” I cut him off.

“He likely ran the entire way, foaming at the mouth,” I finished bitterly. Jasper shook his head.

“He lost a leg in the Boneway fighting Yronwood and Wyl.” I flushed, feeling guilty.

“I thank you for the warning, Lord Jasper.” At my acknowledgement, he gave a sardonic halfbow and moved away. I bit back a sigh and waved Ser Steffon over from where he had been watching, alert and ready.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“I’ll speak with my men,” he swore. “This Lord will not get near her. I swear it.”

“Do so,” I replied, eyes seeking out Joffrey. “I will let Joffrey know. He will no doubt be eager to scold me for bringing her here.”

“Someone needs to keep you in line,” he joked, smiling. I returned it easily before Lucille’s words struck me in truth. Him and Falena? The idea seemed ludicrous but… well. He left me musing, heading towards my own guards meaningfully. Joffrey was not hard to find, seated by an older man and a younger one. From the resemblance… yes, I would warrant those were Gyles and Martyn Lonmouth.

“Joffrey,” I murmured once I was close enough. He glanced up at me and then sighed.

“What’s gone wrong?” he asked.

“Lord Wylde told me an interesting tale about Lord Selmy,” I replied, taking a seat at the table. Joffrey snorted.

“I’ll deal with it,” he replied. “Most likely he’ll ju-”

“I do say, it’s terribly rude to start with business before introducing us,” interrupted Martyn Lonmouth, shooting me a dazzling smile. Joffrey broke off and shot his older brother an annoyed look. I was beginning to notice a theme with his family. That being said, Martyn was also being glared at by his father as well.

“My apologies,” I said after a moment. “I sometimes get a little bullheaded.”

“A little?” said Joffrey, making his brother laugh. “I’m surprised you bother with doors sometimes and do not charge through castle walls instead.”

“Rude,” I replied as Martyn’s laughter increased in volume. “What’s gotten into you, anyway? Joking? And I believe I even saw you smile earlier! I was under the impression you couldn’t do that.”

“She has you there, little brother,” said Martyn as Joffrey nodded, acknowledging the returned barb.

“Martyn, show some respect,” grumbled Gyles before shifting to peer at me. He was older than I would have expected Joffrey’s father to be. Age had turned dark hair a steely grey, although his eyes were as sharp as ever. “Your Grace, my congratulations to your husband and daughter.”

“Thank you,” I replied easily as Joffrey’s proud smile returned for a moment. “Where is Laena? I thought she was with you?”

At the mention of Joffrey’s wife, both men’s smiles flickered for a moment. Better at hiding it than Lucille, then, but both couldn’t hide it entirely.

“Supervising the children with Laenor. He said the least she could do was dance with them, and that it would be good for her leg too.” I smiled.

“I see. No more repeats of yesterday, then?” Joffrey shook his head in response to my question.

“I should hope not,” said Martyn. “Half the castle is speaking of three princesses brawling as if they were barmaids in a tavern.”

Three? I did not miss the look that earned Martyn once more. Well, I wasn’t about to correct him. Had circumstances been different…

“Children are children. They were punished accordingly.” Gyles nodded, still frowning at his son.

“I heard little Rhaena gave her mother quite the fight,” Martyn forged on. “Is her injury so great?”

“Great enough,” murmured Joffrey. “Perhaps that isn’t the best topic for tonight, however?”

Gyles caught onto what his son was saying, even if Martyn did not.

“Quite. Speaking of Rhaena, why do you not seek her out? Offer her your hand as her dance partner?” The suggestion rang more like an order as Martyn glanced at us all nervously before standing.

“Of course, father!” he replied before bowing to me. “Duty calls, Your Grace, and I shall not be found wanting.”

“I thought you said you’d rein him in,” asked Joffrey once he was lost in the crowd. Gyles snorted, and then glanced at me as if he were unsure how to respond. “Don’t worry, after Lucille’s display today, she knows well your feelings.”

“It is not my place to cast judgement on the Princess’s lady and goodsister,” said Gyles. I was starting to see why Joffrey had been so desperate to keep his family from us if none were able to keep their tongues. None of them could be said to be young, certainly not of an age where such frustration being openly shown could be written off as an excess of youth.

“She did not cover herself in glory and I will not punish you for feeling frustration for your son,” I said, tone neutral and hoping to keep the peace. It was more for Joffrey’s sake than any real desire of mine, I admitted to myself, feeling a little guilty. It was easy to forget that Laena had hurt Joffrey as well, perhaps he even had a greater claim to outrage over her actions than I did… Had I ever broached the issue with him, truly? I could not recall, and that only added to my guilt. Gyles nodded before turning to Joffrey, whose eyes were on me. Did he blame me?

“They love you,” Gyles said to Joffrey, after we were silent for a long time. “But I will speak to them once more.”

Joffrey looked as if he wished to say more, but a look of frustration spread over his features as his eyes flickered to me and then to his father. Gyles met his son’s eyes and then reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. I felt like an intruder suddenly, witnessing such a moment, despite the fact that we were in public. I stood the moment Steffon returned, happy for the excuse to escape.

“My apologies for interrupting you, Joffrey. Do call me if you need me.” His lips quirked into a quick smile for a moment as his father’s hand dropped from his shoulder.

“My apologies, Rhaenyra,” he said after a moment. “I will ensure Aliandra is kept safe.”

“Steffon has his knights on it for the time being,” I told him. “Spend some time with your father.”

At my mock order, Gyles smiled slyly and gave me a nod. Joffrey snorted and shook his head in amusement, but I was not so distracted as to miss the brief look of thankfulness he directed my way. He must enjoy having them all in the same place. His brother, his sister and his father, all of whom were perfectly willing to fight a woman who had wronged him, dragon or no... unlike that woman’s lover and brother, perhaps? Briefly, I wondered what his mother must have been like. I knew that I had met her, but I could not recall saying two words to her. 

I made my way through the feast, greeting all those that I could but avoiding being drawn into the heavier talk. It was not long before I spotted those I was searching for - Laena and Laenor, each overlooking the children. It seemed Laena had been allowed a reprieve at least, seated next to Falena. Perhaps my lady had enforced such a matter, I was not sure. Laena detested dancing, so perhaps she saw Fal as her saviour in that case.

“I feel I must discuss something with you, Ser Steffon,” I said finally, after Lucille’s words came back to haunt me once more upon seeing Falena.

“Your Grace?” His tone was cautious, but not overly so. I stepped to the side, where I could still see my children. Even Aemon had joined them, dancing awkwardly with Maris. The sight made me smile for a moment before I turned back to Steffon.

“Falena?” I asked. His face changed in an instant, gone was the confused smile, instead it was replaced by a neutral mask that could have been made from stone. “Fear not, Steffon, I am merely… I did not see it coming.”

“There is naught to see,” he replied stiffly. “I have sworn my vows and she has her own... expectations to uphold.”

“But you love her?” I asked. He flushed red and then nodded, as if I were dragging the answer from him with hot pokers. 

“We have known each other for a long time… we have grown older together. It is what it is.” My smile must have been slightly sad at that because he half turned away again, cheeks even redder.

“Your service to me is more important than I can say, but I value your friendship more,” I told him. “Should there be a day you can not bear that oath…”

I trailed off and he seemed to think over my words for a few moments. Then he sighed heavily and let his eyes flicker closed.

“’Tis a pretty picture to think on,” he said, smiling. “I’d marry her in an instant and she me, I think.”

I waited for a moment longer, until his eyes opened and he gave me a firm nod.

“I gave that dream up when I swore my vows to the old king, and again to your father,” he told me. “Falena knows that, we have accepted that. I take it as a blessing that she should return my letters and gifts with ones of her own.”

“The offer remains regardless,” I told him. He chuckled, some of the red leaving his cheeks now. It must be embarrassing to discuss your love life with your boss, but… I could tell myself I needed to know if this had harmed his dedication to me, but I would be lying. I wanted them both happy, over a decade of service and friendship urged me on, regardless of how politically expedient it could be.

And, I assured myself, I did need a way of removing a Kingsguard that was not merely sending them to the Wall in disgrace.

“And I choose not to be insulted by it,” he replied, and although his smile was joking, I winced. “I thank you, Your Grace. When your time comes, I will be proud to serve you as loyally and as best I am able.”

“And I am proud that you would say so,” I replied, voice suddenly thick. I needed to belay this conversation before I started bawling like a madwoman in the middle of a joyous feast. “But I do have a task for you.”

“Oh,” he asked, smiling.

“Falena has served me well in watching over my goodsister, does she not look lonely, though?” Steffon laughed then, and if there was any tension in his frame, it eased. He followed easy enough as I picked my way over to the two ladies. Correction, I realised. Four, both Aliandra and Allyria were seated with them. Given that each had their own escort of no less than two knights…

“Lady Falena,” said Steffon. “Would you care for a dance?”

It was worth it all just to see the surprise on her face. The split second where her eyes widened, her mouth fell open just slightly- Laena gave me a grin as Falena rose and took Steffon’s outstretched hand.

“If Her Grace approves?” she asked, her face back under control.

“Of course, go and have some fun. I’m sure Laena can behave herself for a few hours.” I charitably ignored the raised eyebrow and the two giggling girls. Falena smiled and glanced at my lover.

“You have a lot of faith in her,” she said, her smile mischievous. Then she left with Steffon as Laena squawked in mock-outrage and the giggling became outright guffawing.


	209. The Stormlands - Chapter 181

Evidently, the Seven decided my evening had been entirely too pleasant by far, though, brief chat with Jasper Wylde aside.

“Your Grace, might I have the honour?” I saw the scowl on Laena’s face before I realised it was Bennard Stark that stood before me, the same infuriating smile as ever in place on his face.

“Lord Stark,” I replied, keeping my voice even. The last we had met, Bennard had been sent running with his tail between his legs by Joffrey after his attempt to manipulate me into coming into conflict with Cregan had failed. He always had some sort of game… what would it be this time? “I would be honoured.”

He smiled once more, or perhaps it was better to describe it as a show of teeth more than a smile. Did he think himself truly a wolf? I banished those thoughts from my head as I rose. I second guessed myself too much around him, I got flustered far too easily. It gave him openings he was not afraid to exploit.

“Tell me, Lord Stark, how are your sons?” Benjen would likely be around somewhere and I could only thank the Seven that I knew Jocelyn would be with Rolph. I did not know how well her crush had fared since she had last seen Bennard Stark’s eldest son. Not that I was truly worried something might happen, rather I worried Rolph might do something drastic or that she might get her heart broken far younger than any girl should.

“Well,” he replied, his rakish grin firmly in place now as we joined the other dancers. “I believe he is dancing with your own daughter.”

My heart leapt as I followed his gaze… and found Alys and Benjen. I managed to not physically react to it but I made a note to ensure Jocelyn and Alys did not decide to bicker over a boy and cause yet another scene. Alys was still awkwardly civil with Aemma and Rhaena and I did not need another incident to inflame tensions.

“A truly gallant one, then,” I replied.

“I have tried. He is a man now, leading troops in the Red Mountains and soon to be wedded,” he told me, a fierce pride in his voice. “Elenda has not yet finished with that niece of hers but I am assured they will be married before the year is out.”

“A few months, then,” I concluded. “I wish them both happiness. How goes your Vulture Hunt?”

The smile and the pride vanished to be replaced by a dark look. If our spies were to be believed, the answer was not well at all. Still, better get it from the horse’s mouth. We had yet to have any degree of penetration into his personal household. Joffrey ascribed it to bad luck, I was of the mind he was better at picking out Joffrey’s men than my spymaster’s pride would let him admit.

“We chase shadows. We easily triumph when we find them, but so rarely do we find them. Other lords offer their aid… I will not take it. It is poisoned.” I raised an eyebrow and his expression only grew darker. “They feign ignorance, they let him move and hide in their lands whilst blocking my search. My lands suffer raid after raid when the menfolk leave for the hunt and the level of banditry in my lands only rises, no matter how many petty robber kings I stamp out.”

“You believe they are all traitors,” I mused in a low voice. I should be dismayed, shocked but… it was a scenario we had all considered to be possible, even probable. This was merely a bitter confirmation.

“If you want that girl of yours to be more than a hostage, you’ll need to deal with them sooner or later,” he warned. “They have too much invested in Garin now, there will be war. If not with him, with them, when their neighbours grow bored of their crimes.”

“Aliandra will take them in hand when she reaches her majority,” I assured him. “The Stormlands will not suffer raids. She is not the type.”

“I do not know, and neither do you. I hope the girl you know grows into the woman you believe she would be but…” He trailed off and shrugged, even as I frowned. “Should you not know all this already?”

“How so?” I asked, projecting an air of false innocence at the question. He bared his teeth once more.

“You planted enough spies amongst those settlers of yours.” I smiled, a bet won. Joffrey would be angry when I told him. I could be generous, though, and keep my smugness to minimum levels. Him knowing about the spies at least was not a disaster yet, not unless he decided to take action against them.

“I do not keep personal correspondence with all those who work for me,” I replied. “Neither does Joffrey for that matter. The situation on the border is not so dire as to require my personal attention, is it?”

“Not at all,” he replied, although I sensed the annoyance in his voice at that. Some verbal trap I had not seen but nevertheless avoided, no doubt. There was little more to say, though, and so we danced in silence for a while until the song ended and he bowed low.

“A wonderful partner as always, Your Grace,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to my hand as he rose again. I refused to blush but I suspected some pink might have touched my cheeks. Hopefully the exertion of the dance would serve as an alibi.

“The same for yourself, Lord Stark.” He fixed me with that smile that was more a baring of teeth once more and moved off to partner with a lady I did not recognise. I made my way back to Laena, examining the small crowd as I went. Rolph and Jocelyn, Rhaena and her uncle, Aemma and Laenor… Benjen was still with Alys, though. Not that Jocelyn seemed to mind. Still, it bore mentioning to Laenor at some point. He would see that nothing would happen in the meantime, and I could tell him about the crush later so he had context enough to arm himself against any future trouble.

Laena was still wearing her annoyance for all to see when I took my place by her side once more.

“Did he have much to say for himself?” she asked.

“News from the border. Nothing we did not already know, but the confirmation is worrying,” I replied, aware of Aliandra’s gaze was fixed on my back.

“What news did he have?” she demanded when I did not elaborate. “Does my uncle know of this information?”

“His hunts for Walter Wyl reveals more about your uncle’s supporters than they probably wish.” I told her, trying to make it clear this was not the place to discuss it. I would have to sit her down before we reached Sunspear, though, and ensure she knew of the situation. I did not know how much Aron Dayne told her in his letters. I could ask Joffrey, but it felt like an intrusion. “We will talk later about it.”

She fell back into her chair, looking frustrated and worried in equal measure and my heart hurt once again. This trip had not been easy for her. Most of it had been spent in her rooms or consistently flanked by more guards than she was ever going to be comfortable with. I watched as Allyria laid a comforting hand on her arm and murmured something into her ear. The frown on her face didn’t quite shift entirely but she relaxed slightly, so I left the older girl to it and turned back to the floor.

“When is Luke arriving?” I asked, wanting to break the silence more than anything. “I never asked.”

“Tomorrow or the day after. Mother will fly him over.” Then she paused, before sighing heavily. “I have missed him, and no doubt he will be thrilled to see Gyles and the others.”

I wasn’t touching that situation for love nor money.

“Perhaps he might like to stay for a week or so after we depart. It would give Rhaenys time to connect with her cousin?” I suggested. Laena hummed thoughtfully.

“Depends on how Borros acts with her. He can be dense when she’s around.” I bit back the laugh that threatened at that information. It was true he completely changed around Rhaenys, I could only hope more time would fix that-

A scuffle by the door broke my thoughts and drew my attention. It started small but soon the feast was falling silent. I shared a glance with Laena and stood, waving for the guards to form up around my charges. Murmuring began breaking out as a shrill voice began swearing at the guards, delivering vile epithets to all Dornish and few choice ones for Aliandra in particular. The girl had gone pale. Anger surged through me then, dimming my vision and filling my ears with the beating of my heart. She was a child and this man… I unclenched my fists when the ache in my fingers became a sharp stab of pain.

I pushed my way through the crowd, Laena at my back, with what I’m quite sure was an expression bordering on murderous given how fast people leapt out of my way. It took two guards to restrain Selmy despite his small frame and missing leg. He was nothing if not spirited, tearing himself this way and that, as if he were a child having some sort of temper tantrum.

“I have a right! A right to be heard by my liege lord!” he screamed. “Come out, Borros! I name you a traitor to all of the Stormlands!”

My anger became shock, much like the rest of the rapidly growing crowd, if the scandalised whispering was anything to go by.

“Borros! Answer me! Or perhaps your mouth is too busy kissing the feet of the Dornish whore!” he screamed again. “Your father would be ash-”

Bennard Stark stepped forth and delivered a single, punishing blow to his face. The old man’s head slammed back, blood pouring from his nose. If not for the very same guards that had been holding him fast, I suspect he would have collapsed completely given how he slumped momentarily.

“Shut up, Alyn,” growled Bennard. “Nobody has time for you or your bitter growling. You should have stayed in Harvest Hall.”

“Lord Stark! You go too far!” barked a much younger man, blond haired and green eyed. Bennard’s attention switched to him a moment later. Neither man wore a sword at his side which was for the best, because had they, I suspect they would have drawn them by now. “You can not attack a man under Lord Borros’ protection. I do not know how Northerners act, but in the Stormlands we hold honour and tradition-”

“We Northerners are more honourable than sacks of shit like you and your whoring father,” snarled Bennard right back. The man flushed red, eyes flickering to the crowd as Borros finally shoved his way through. His blue eyes were dark with rage. Bennard stepped back at a nod from him. There was no fight there, he simply did as he was told. Alyn Selmy went pale when he saw his lord’s face.

“Kissing Dornish feet, am I?” asked Borros, his voice strangely calm. Flat, almost, lacking the rage evident all over his features.

“My lord,” said the young man. “My father is merely emotional. Please, forgive his words.”

“Looks to me like he tried to enter my hall carrying a blade,” he said in that strange flat tone once more. My eyes were caught by a third man, holding a naked blade aloft. Was this why they had stopped him? The blood drained from my face and any pity I had been feeling for the man left me, it felt like a sudden punch to the guts. He had come here to kill Aliandra.

“He is a martial man, has been all his life. He has given everything in the defence of the Stormlands! That blade is part of him,” argued to man. “He would not break-urgh”

Borros’ hand snapped out, grabbing a handful of the man’s tunic and dragged him forward until their noses were almost touching.

“Is your father so crippled now he needs a little bastard like you to fight his battles, Erich?” Erich went red and squirmed in Borros’ grip. “I legitimised you, I knighted you. Remember that!”

He let Erich go and the man staggered backwards, face a furious red. I could see the humiliation there, too. Curiosity about his situation could wait, though, as the attention swung back to Alyn once more. He remained defiant under that gaze. Not many men could do that, but Alyn did not even tremble.

“I trained and fought with your father,” he said darkly as Borros towered over him. “You can not intimidate me, Borros Baratheon.”

“That man was a hero,” said Borros. “All I see is a craven.”

I thought that Selmy might explode with those words, even as muttering broke out across the hall. Elenda was at the front of the crowd now, her sharp eyes taking in the confrontation. I met her gaze briefly and she gave me a small nod before turning back to her husband.

“Craven,” growled Selmy. “I am not so old and crippled that I will not defend my honour, boy!”

“Good! Perhaps I can call for a girl of three and ten for you to fight!” snapped Borros. Selmy snarled wordlessly at him. “If it’s a fight you want, you can face me. I should challenge you for your words alone, Alyn. I won’t for the friendship you had with my father, but I better not see you again. Men, ensure Lord Alyn leaves.”

“Take heed, men of the Stormlands!” Alyn screeched as the guards began to pull him from the room. At a glance from Borros, Erich went too, following meekly. “This is our future under Borros the Blind and his Queen! We’ll bend the knee to the Dornish soon enough. The whore gave them a dragon and Borros sells us to her for a pretty crown on his daughter’s head! Unhand me! Let me-”

“Anyone else?” growled Borros turning to the crowd. Lords and ladies alike shifted their gaze to avoid meeting his eyes. His voice rose to a bellow. “The next man to say shit like that better be fighting the Dornish himself! Out of all of you who sit here pissing and moaning about the Dornish, none of you send men to Red Wolf Hold. None of you pick up a blade and fight! So the next lord I hear whining better be ready to go there and earn the right to whine!”

When nobody challenged him or even spoke up, he huffed loudly and stalked off back through the crowd, almost throwing a few hapless men out of his path. Elenda followed, concern in her gaze. I let out a long breath and felt Laena’s fingers briefly brush over the back of my hand.

“Let’s go back,” she murmured. I nodded and followed, unsure of what to say. Aliandra was where we left her, still pale and wide eyed. I wanted to comfort her, to draw her close as I would any one of my own children, but good sense stopped me. The want still burned though, and so I distracted myself by taking a deep drink of wine.

“What a horse’s arse,” murmured Laena, finally. There was a beat of silence and then Allyria began giggling. Aliandra managed a small smile but she was shaken, I could tell. Alyn Selmy had not come within metres of her and she was still shaken. Such hatred…

“Your Grace,” I paused mid sip and turned to Lord Jack Whitehead. He gave me a gracious bow. “Might I ask your charge to dance? I wish to assure her not all of us Stormlords are complete bastards.”

I turned back to Aliandra, who gave me a look that said clearly that she did not wish too. I did not blame her, but how to-

“My lord, forgive my princess, for she feels quite unwell. Might you settle with dancing with me instead?” Allyria said, saving me from the awkwardness of disentangling Aliandra. Jack smiled and bowed his head.

“I understand completely. I can only apologise for Selmy’s behaviour and ask that you do not judge us all as such.” Allyria held out her hand and Jack Whitehead took it.

“You seem quite gallant,” said Aliandra finally. “I shall take your words to heart.”

He beamed at her and bowed once more before escorting the lady of Ghost Hill to dance. I finished the goblet of wine and turned to my ward. She straightened in her seat, meeting my eyes wearily.

“Come to my rooms tomorrow,” I told her. “It is time we discussed your return home, yes?”

The reminder did much to take the edge from her mood and her brilliant smile made me smile in turn. “Yes! Thank you, Rhaenyra.”


	210. Interlude - Elenda

Last night had been unfortunate, she mused once she had some time to herself. She had known Selmy was likely to try something, but she had thought him dealt with. Likely Erich, the son he had begged to have legitimised after the Conquest of Dorne, the son her Borros had burned so much influence with Viserys for, had been behind it all. She was not blind to his ungratefulness. She would have to examine how Selmy had managed to slip his watchers and so thoroughly embarrass her husband. Her Borros would be well wroth, and he had already been verging on impossible recently. 

His cousin’s presence always did that to him. Reminders of a childhood spent hearing only praise for her, never him. Only words of love for her. Boremund Baratheon had been a good man, her father assured her so, but he had been a distant one.

Still, it would do no good to get lost in such thoughts now. Her Borros’ lords had seen his strength once more, they had heard his challenge. Their pride had been stirred, already Bennard spoke of offers of support. She would note how many offers became support in truth. It was not all so… satisfying, though. Others would see last night as more proof that her Borros was unfit for his position. They would whisper… Wylde. Even he had not been foolish enough to approach Selmy, even after Dorne where the man still had some influence. Had they approached his son?

It would make her angry if they had. Even in the aftermath of the Conquest, Viserys had been reluctant to raise a bastard son of a whore. Her Borros had played on the king’s softness. Selmy had lost his trueborn sons fighting in the Prince’s Pass and had no brother or nephews left that could inherit, only distant branches long disconnected from the main family. She noted down instructions to investigate links between Maric Wylde and Erich Selmy, sending Elena running with it to deliver to her man. 

She would miss the girl when she was wedded, she had proved herself clever and knew well when to keep silent and when to speak up. She made a second note to consult with the Maester on the lineage of the Selmy’s. A useful and ambitious kinsman may be needed soon enough, if Erich had truly sold himself to the Greens.

It was odd, she thought. She was rarely angry. Irritated, frustrated… little got her angry. The thought of Greens within her lands made her angry. That they defied her, defied her Borros. The Stormlands would do so well if they managed to link themselves to the Throne, much in the way the Arryns had already done well from the links with just a princess. She moved down the list of reports and anger touched her again.

Twice in one day? Perhaps the Seven were sending her some sort of message. Her father. She had long grown weary of his unsubtle attempts to profit at the expense of her Borros. He had his glory, his favourable marriages and his empty title. He had more than he should rightly have, and still he acted as if he were owed more. His attempts to turn his empty title into a true one, to raise House Caron up at the expense of the Marcher Lords had caused trouble from the beginning. Now, he caused trouble once more. Under the visiting royal party’s noses.

Such a matter could not go unaddressed.

Was he not disputing some grazing land right now? Ronald Dondarrion did not rightly own the land, and neither did his vassal, he was merely being mulish, encouraged by Manfryd Swann supporting his claim. Still, perhaps she would give it to Dondarrion. A warning to her father that her patience was coming to an end. He had done the bare minimum that he had been asked to do. She had sent him to King’s Landing. He could have been close to the Princess, as Gerold Redfort was on Jeyne Arryn’s behalf. He had ignored those orders and embarrassed them all as well.

Yes, Ronald Dondarrion would have his land. A few acres would not beggar the family, but the loss would sting her father’s pride. The warning would be heard, and the lords of the Stormlands would be reassured that their true ruler was not Royce Caron. Elena returned and was dispatched once more, dutifully carrying her message to her Borros with the decision.

The next message did not bring anger but only because of how expected the news was. Instead it brought a dull ache in her breast. Her Cassandra had never been able to deceive her. Her Cassandra thought herself some grand player, but she was not like her Maris. Too proud, too straightforward. Too much like her father and the rest of the Stormlands. They all spoke when they should not. Every feeling, every thought. They seemed content to tell everyone their problems, make their problems everyone else's as well. 

Her Cassandra lacked subtlety. A Queen needed subtlety, cunning, cleverness, a cool head. Her Maris had those in spades. She did not let her pride rule her as her Cassandra did. She was glad the boy prince had chosen her Maris. Even over her Ellyn. Her Ellyn was too soft. She lacked the bite, the true pride. She would make a fine wife to some lordling some day. Not like her Cassandra. Corwin Errol was celebrating now, she did not think he would celebrate after he came to know her eldest.

Already she sought to make a mockery of her father. Pride pushing her to consort with unsavoury types. Did her Cassandra truly think that she would miss a covert meeting between her and Simon Mertyns? Or the dances she had shared with his younger brother? Simon Mertyns was Jasper Wylde’s creature. The thought made her angry again. Another warning to be dispatched then. What would be best?

Of course. Cyrenna Swann. Arrogant girl. Foolish too, to so blatantly carry on with her favourite manservant. Should her father find out, he would send her to a motherhouse and have no more to do with her. It would take little to blackmail the girl into manoeuvring such a young and… hot blooded young man into a compromising position. It would take even less to ensure they were discovered. The Mertyns and Swann would be furious with one another, and the Greens would crack. Cracks that could be exploited, in time. Elena returned once more, although she did not depart when the next message was handed to her.

Unusual. 

“Aunt, the rumour is that Princess Rhaenys and her charge will soon arrive.” The hesitant tone would not do, she thought idly as she frowned. Her Borros would be working himself into a mood as they spoke.

“Thank you, Elena. Deliver that message and take the afternoon off. Track down your betrothed.” Her niece caught the implication and nodded, eyes determined.

“Thank you, aunt Elenda, have a good afternoon,” she said politely before taking off. She allowed herself to bask in the satisfaction of a job well done for a moment before rising. If rumour was already circulating, she would bet Princess Rhaenys was likely to arrive within the hour. That was not a true issue, she had planned for an early arrival. She should go to her Borros, but she knew he would be in the yards. That must be his domain. Never hers. 

Instead, she made her way to the outer courtyard, to the space she had set aside for the mighty beasts that the Targaryens rode. Vhagar was the greatest of them all, but even the smallest, deep red Morrigan, was far bigger than most houses. She watched them shift about as their riders gathered, ready to greet their own. She could not deny her relief at choosing the side that had amassed so many of the creatures. Enough of her ancestors had fallen during Aegon’s Conquest to know that the Stormlands could not survive the onslaught they would bring, should she have decided to back Prince Aegon.

Although it would never do to underestimate a dragon, neither would it do to overestimate one. Princess Rhaenyra had pulled many to her side, but Prince Aegon had a talent for capturing the hearts of men. Had her Borros not already been promised a crown, he may have wavered. He liked the Prince, liked his skill with a blade even more. Disappointingly, even the Princess put more stock in scale and steel than the hearts of men. All of her dragons would do her no good if enough refused to bow. Maegor come again. She frowned. She was out of sorts. Irritated, a frustration bubbling under her skin. She was not usually so… introspective.

The dragons were visible in the sky when she finally joined the waiting crowd. The scarlet Meleys, looking as if she were made of ruby, hung in the sky. Skywalker, deep and dark red compared to his lighter companion. The younger children let out a cheer as the two circled the yard, even her Ellyn seemed thrilled. Some part of her would admit to watching intently too, so intently she nearly did not hear her Borros approach from behind, his huff of annoyance giving him away.

“Did you ever wish to ride one?” he asked her.

“No,” she lied as Skywalker landed. Her Borros chuckled.

“I did. I argued with my father. It was unfair, I thought.” Unfair Rhaenys got one and you did not. Her Borros had always struggled with those thoughts. She waited for the royal party to greet the newcomers, watching for weakness. What would they reveal in what they said? What they failed to say? She felt no guilt. Lonmouth would have gone through Storm’s End with glee. 

How she wished she had gotten to the boy first. Sadly, he was Laenor Velaryon’s now, and little would remove him from the man’s side. His sister was good enough. Lucille was not as empty-headed as most. She could even deliver the most delicious gossip when pushed. Laena Velaryon had erred when she had made an enemy of such a woman. Even if Lucille did have a few… blindspots.

She watched as the Dornish princess stepped forth to greet her betrothed. There was a stiff civility there. An enforced politeness. Two anxious parents and one host watching them with keen interest. Then the moment passed and the girl said something that made the boy frown, more in surprise than anger. It was another crack to be wary of. To know and to feed. She did not feel a Marcher’s anger towards Dorne, but that did not mean she liked them. Or that she wished for them to obtain a dragon.

Steps would have to be taken. It would not do to underestimate or overestimate Lucerys Velaryon or Aliandra Martell, after all.


	211. Dorne - Chapter 182

It was a relief to finally collapse onto my bed within my cabin and just have five minutes where I was not performing, not being swarmed by lords wishing to discuss last minute arrangements and could just… relax. The moment of peace lasted an entire thirty seconds before there was a knock on my door and Joffrey let himself in, smiling to himself as if he had just heard some grand joke. I groaned and rolled over, wanting nothing more than to burrow into the covers.

“The children are in their cabins,” he told me, dropping into one of the chairs and moving to remove his leg brace. He had worn it nearly constantly during the trip, I realised with surprise as I came to the realisation I had barely seen him with the stick. He winced as he removed it, and that told me as much as I needed to know about why that was the case. Vanity, pride…

“Aemma snapped at Alys again,” he told me, setting the contraption of metal and leather aside and rubbing at his leg. I sighed.

“Alys did nothing to warrant it?” I asked, already knowing the answer. She hadn’t, Alys had been on her best behaviour around her siblings recently. He shook his head, merely confirming what I had already known.

“I shall speak to her,” I promised. “I suspect she just needs some time to herself.”

“She’ll struggle to get that on a ship,” Joffrey mused. That was… sadly the truth. She shared her cabin with Rhaena and the twins and I had to admit, it was rarely quiet in there and not through any fault of Aemma’s. I sighed again and forced myself to sit up.

“I’ll figure something out,” I assured him. He shrugged.

“Aemon stepped in,” he reported. “Ready to make peace. Jocelyn backed him up. You ought to have heard him… for all he looks like Laenor, he resembles you in personality.” 

“Does he?” I asked, remembering the stubborn look on his face when he’d announced whom he intended to marry. That I could admit was me, but everything else? The passion, the calm assurance - I would have ascribed that to Laenor’s influence.

“Too eager by far to step in,” said Joffrey, smirking slightly, and I resisted the urge to launch a pillow at his face. 

“Keep this up and I’ll- ,” I paused to let him infer the consequences. He smiled. “First you call me bullheaded, now I am far too nosey by half!”

He laughed.

“You make it work,” he assured me. “And the Seven know I have you beat for needing to know secrets.”

“I shall take that as a peace offering and refrain from having Steffon throw you in the sea,” I teased. He gave me a mock bow. “Aliandra and Luke seem improved?”

“Somewhat,” he said cautiously, his smile fading slightly. “Although I couldn’t tell you why… or if it will last.”

“Perhaps her excitement is winning out over her caution,” I suggested, and his smile returned in full force. It was hard not to smile at the thought of the girl, even before we’d gotten on the boat she hadn’t been able to resist bouncing on her feet and grinning like some sort of lunatic. Her enthusiasm was infectious, even if part of me was dreading arriving in Dorne.

I wasn’t sure why. Certainly, I knew that the likelihood of physical threat was low. I was worth far more alive than dead to the Dornish, especially Aron Dayne. Riots, maybe? They had fallen in frequency and intensity in recent months, their peak come and gone nearly a year ago now. The smallfolk were settling into the new jobs and lands provided by Lyman’s clever investment… but that did not mean they would not happen.

“She has enough excitement, certainly,” he said wryly, jerking me from my brooding. The look he gave me told me he knew well that my mind had been going off to places best left alone. I gave him a smile.

“It is a start,” he conceded.

“Something to build on once Dorne is over and done with.” Not immediately, of course, she would likely be upset at leaving Dorne once more, but the visit would reassure her. Or it should, anyway.

“Speaking of Dorne,” Joffrey said quietly. “I have something that you need to be made aware of.”

There was no real urgency in his voice, but his words chilled me all the same. I felt my smile die as his face grew more serious as well.

“Allyria Toland,” he said after a beat of silence. I blinked in surprise, mind going to the quiet girl we would be leaving behind soon enough. “She is mine.”

“Yours?” I echoed curiously, before I wanted to smack myself for being stupid. “Yours, of course. I should have known…”

“Her defence was unexpected, yes. She approached me shortly before we left King’s Landing. I have been assessing her for most of the trip… I believe she is earnest in her desire to serve you within Dorne.”

I thought that over. Allyria had been as close as any in Little Dorne to Aliandra, albeit she was not one of her boon companions. They stuck together out of necessity and a shared trauma, and all respected for their princess. Why then was Allyria breaking ranks now? Of all of the Dornish court, she was the one I would pin for being so anti-conquest that she would verge on rabid. It had been during our invasion that Dickon Bulwer had slaughtered her family, friends and people… even if she knew it was not Laena that had ordered it, she should still blame us for putting Bulwer in the position to do what he did.

“I don’t understand,” I finally admitted. “Her approaching us… I don’t understand.”

“I have done my research, listened to her explanation-” He pursed his lips. “It is because of Ghost Hill.”

“We were at fault for that. Bulwer or not, he was given power and the ability to do so because of our mistakes.”

“She was young, but not so young she does not remember what happened after. Bulwer called himself a Green man openly when Laena confronted him.” I swallowed painfully as Joffrey paused. Just as Alan Tarly had replied he was a man of the future Queen. Had Allyria heard all of that? Remembered it?

“She wishes to aid the Blacks?” I asked. Joffrey shook his head.

“Certainly she would never aid Prince Aegon and his ilk,but it’s not politics she is overly concerned with. It’s the succession of Ghost Hill.” That made even less sense. She was the Lady of Ghost Hill already, and she would assume the title in truth very, very soon. Myles Sand could not refuse the order, not with Aron Dayne backing her.

“I’m not explaining this very well,” he sighed. “Laena would do a better job.”

“She’s never really spoken about it.” He shrugged in reply to that. It did not need to be said why.

“Alright. Lord Allard Toland had three trueborn children and one bastard son. Myles Sand was the eldest, born from Allard’s paramour, a woman he grew up with and loved fiercely. She died in childbirth shortly after he married his wife, a Santagar by birth. He lost the babe as well a few months later. Myles was five at the time, I believe. Lord Allard never took another paramour.” I could see the beginning of the problem.

“He believes he should be lord given his mother was his father’s true love?” I asked. Joffrey shrugged.

“I have never met the man, nor have my spies ever reported as such. Regardless, Lord Allard’s three trueborn children were Casella, Lewyn and Allyria. Casella was the eldest and Lord Allard’s heir. By the time Ghost Hill was threatened, only Myles could be considered not a child. He’d just reached five and ten.” If there was ever a problem I had with Joffrey, it was his need to include everything in his information.

“Allyria was five,” I remembered then. “So young…”

“Casella was barely two and ten,” Joffrey told me. “Lewyn was seven. When the massacre began, Allard was felled straight away. The captain of the guard split the children up. He hoped to maximise the chances that at least one lived. Myles refused to hide, he fought alongside the defenders. Casella was taken by men hoping to flee and the two younger children… well, they did not reach their hiding places. Instead, they and a group of servants and men at arms ended up barricaded in a wine cellar of all places.”

“Casella died in the sack,” I said. “They caught her, didn’t they? Tell me Allyria did not see that at least.”

“She did not.” I sighed in relief at that confirmation.

“Poor child,” I sighed, before rubbing at the bridge of my nose. “This does not explain why she would align with us, though.”

He opened his mouth and I held up a hand as my brain kicked into gear finally.

“I am being a fool,” I told him and his mouth snapped shut. “She would align with us due to an ambitious half-brother, the son of her father’s greatest love, who can claim to have fought for Ghost hill on one of its darkest days. An ambitious brother who has been her regent for nearly a decade now, and has probably left behind more than a few of his own, loyal men.”

“That is about the long and short of it,” Joffrey admitted. “Myles has been loud in his criticism of Aliandra and especially of the Iron Throne. He uses the massacre as a rallying cry, bringing it up whenever he can to stir people against us.”

“Even if she were inclined to agree with him, Allyria isn’t the type to approve of that.” I barely knew the quiet girl, but I knew that for certain.

“I believe her exact words were that their father would be ashamed of him,” Joffrey agreed. “So she came to me.”

“What are the exact terms?” I asked.

“About as much as expected. I provide men to ferret out her brother’s spies, I provide… specialists to remove any that can’t be so easily removed, and she keeps me well informed about Aron Dayne and Gwayne Hightower.” It was almost a boast, I realised. He was proud of this. Why then did it sit so oddly with me? 

“And when Aliandra reaches her majority?” I asked.

“Allyria likely grows closer to Sunspear, and will keep us informed as long as it does not put Dorne as a whole in danger,” he replied. A sudden realisation hit me in the gut like a hammer blow.

“Allyria has never been close to Aliandra before this trip,” I whispered. “Not nearly as much as Myles Ladybright or the Vaith girl.”

The look Joffrey gave me was enough that I lowered my head into my hands, feeling suddenly sick. Allyria had gotten close to Aliandra because it made her more useful to her new patron. To me, ultimately. It felt like a betrayal… I took a deep breath.

“Aliandra must never, ever discover this.” My voice came out considerably more venomous than I intended, and Joffrey all but flinched in his chair. He stared at me for a moment, face giving nothing away. Then he shrugged.

“Would it help if I said Allyria was genuinely fond of her?” he asked. Not especially, my mind supplied immediately and it must have shown on my face because he grimaced. “She is, for the record. She finds her quite charming.”

“But the pretext for the relationship is a lie,” I murmured. “If Aliandra were to discover that-”

“She would resent you, resent Allyria, resent me-” Annoyed, I cut him off.

“And we would lose Dorne entirely,” I said hotly.

“Perhaps,” he murmured. “But you and I know well enough it’s her resentment you fear most.”

Princesses did not throw things, but boy, did I want to. There was a satisfyingly heavy copy of the Seven Pointed Star on my bedside table...

“I raised her,” I hissed. “I don’t want to see her needlessly hurt.”

Perhaps he was aware of my growing rage because he held his hands up in surrender, his face full of pity.

“Rhaenyra, I do not blame you for taking to her, but you have to consider that she will distance herself eventually,” he told me, tone gentle. I took a deep breath.

“I know that,” I told him. “I do not need to be told that, but I do not wish to push her to it, and her resentment is guaranteed if she finds out about this stunt.”

“I understand.” There was still that thrice-damned pity on his face though and I forced the anger down, letting myself flop back onto the bed once more with a ragged sigh that contained more frustration than I had intended.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to preach.”

“Yet preach you did,” I shot back, staring at the canopy of the bed. “But I accept your apology.”

Silence reigned for too long before I told myself it was time to stop sulking and hauled myself upright once more. I was thirty. A mother. Old enough to know better by now. I gave him a strained smile.

“When are we setting off anyway? This cabin is starting to feel cramped, but Laenor will have my hide if I bother his men with my wanderings.” Joffrey smiled.

“There’s an image. Soon, I believe. One of us must really learn more about boats one of these days.” There was a pause and I smiled, trying my best to ignore the frustration still bubbling under my skin.

“I’m telling him you called his ship a boat,” I informed him, less smug than I wanted to be but smug enough, before bursting into cackles at his expression of worry.


	212. Dorne - Chapter 183

“Come in!” I called at the hesitant knock. Aliandra pushed the door open, freezing for a moment when she saw Laenor and I sat there. She said little when I gestured to the seat opposite me. “How are you finding the calmer seas?”

We were nearly out of the Stormlands now and that much was very obvious. Better weather and less terror were appreciated, I wasn’t seasick as a rule but when the sea was throwing our ship about, it was all I could do not to lose my lunch. Aliandra smiled brightly, remembering what calmer seas meant.

“A lot better than the Stormlands,” she told me and Laenor laughed before pouring her a goblet of wine and passing it to her. She thanked him with a mumble and a dip of her head. Her free hand came up to twist at her hair. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all,” I said, keeping my voice as warm as possible. “I merely wish to speak with you. We’re waiting on Allyria though.”

Aliandra tilted her head at that and then tried to cover for her confusion by sipping at her wine. She paused when she realised it was the Dornish red she had fallen in love with after her mother had gifted her a bottle and not the usual watered down type the children were given. I bit my tongue when the urge to tell her to drink it slowly arose within me. Joffrey’s words coming back to haunt me again. It was a painful truth but from now on, I had to stop seeing myself as her mother. I was not, and if she had let me take that role in the past, it was because she was vulnerable and lonely. Now that she was returning to Dorne as its ruling Princess, she would be spending more time than ever with her mother, and I would have to take a backseat. This trip was the first step in letting Dorne see that Aliandra was not my creature, but her own woman.

A knock drew me from my brooding and Allyria popped her head around the door at Laenor’s call, relaxing slightly when she saw Aliandra already seated and grinning brightly at her.

“Your Grace,” she said a moment later as she sat down next to her friend. “How may I help?”

“Firstly, I owe you both an apology.” At the admission, two sets of dark eyebrows shot up in shock and surprise. Laenor snorted into his wine and I resisted the urge to shoot him a warning look. “I took you both into the Stormlands with little to no warning about the hostility you would face there. I gave you knights, but such precautions do little against such hatred as the Stormlords have for your people. I am sorry.”

The two girls glanced at each other, Aliandra’s hand in her hair once more. It was clear neither had expected that. Was I doing something wrong if they did not think I was the type to apologise? I fought the urge to grimace. I had spoken to Elenda in those final days. She had been very tight-lipped on Selmy’s future. He’d been thrown out of Storm’s End and told that if he returned, Borros would challenge his son. My instinct had been that such a punishment was not a punishment at all, but Elenda had given me a look… one that said, clear as day, that she had more planned for Lord Selmy.

It was enough to make me almost pity him. Until I remembered Aliandra’s face, pale and afraid at his shouts, that is. Whatever Elenda had planned, though, I could not save him from it even if I wanted to.

“I accept your apology?” said Aliandra, the unsure tone making the statement sound almost like a question. “But I won’t forgive them.”

I tilted my head, taking in the determined look on her face, one slightly ruined by the undercurrent of worry.

“They said such horrible things!” she elaborated, frantic edge to her tone. “They called me such horrible names. I shan’t forgive them. They don’t deserve it!”

All I could do was nod and Aliandra seemed to slump in her chair for a moment, looking relieved. My thoughts swirled as I thought over that statement. It was true that Aliandra was unlikely to be able to completely stop any raiding across the border, but such efforts would only suffer without the support of the Princess of Dorne… now I suspect that once she had done away with Walter Wyl, she would fill his former stomping grounds with her own men.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Annoyance at both of them, but annoyance against the Stormlanders more. Was that because I loved her as a daughter? Or was it because the Stormlanders had one chance to win over the Dornish princess herself, to save lives by forging peace between them and their neighbours, and promptly decided they preferred calling her names instead? 

“Now, onto more serious matters,” I began, pulling my thoughts into order, and the two became solemn once more. “The Conquest of Dorne.”

Allyria did not react, and it struck me that Joffrey could not have asked for a better spy, really. How long had she been planning this stunt? How long had she been searching for a way out? Clever enough to recognise the threat her brother posed, clever enough to put aside grief and grudge for an alliance where both sides benefited. Clever enough to manipulate Aliandra into seeing a close friend when before the two had likely never spoken much… It made my heart hurt for her all over again.

“The Conquest of Dorne,” repeated Aliandra, before hiding her face in her wine.

“Yes. I believe you should know the truth. That you should know why it happened and the architect behind it.” Allyria did not take her eyes from my face but Aliandra was looking anywhere but. What was making her so afraid? When I did not speak, Laenor began.

“You all know the struggle taking place in the capital?” he asked. Allyria nodded.

“The two factions,” Aliandra said, shooting me a look. “We have the right idea. If you did it like us, you would not have this problem.”

Laenor laughed and I hid a smile in my sleeve. She smiled in turn, looking pleased with herself.

“It’s true the Dornish recognise the value of girls and women, where we often fall short,” admitted Laenor.

“One might say that they are infinitely more civilised in that way,” I japed, making the two girls giggle and Laenor shrug. “Although I hear there are peoples in the far east that actively favour their women. May we one day aspire to their level of thought.” 

It was a joke and he knew it. The two girls giggled at my teasing. Still, he couldn’t quite help himself...

“Leng,” he said, proudly. “They have a ruling God-Empress. Father managed to get an audience during his time there. You ought to see some of the artifacts…” He trailed off and then flushed before clearing his throat. “A conversation for another time. Regardless, the two factions; the Blacks and the Greens, are caught up in the matter.”

“Up to our eyeballs,” I noted, with a smile. “Tell me, Aliandra, have I ever told you about Otto Hightower?”

She shook her head, small smile still in place. I was glad for it. This topic would hurt her, how could it not? A little bit of levity and an open door later would be needed to lessen that hurt.

“Otto Hightower was…” I paused, mind reaching for some way to describe him. “He was the younger brother of Lord Garmon Hightower. He spent his early years working alongside his brother. Together, they invested much in Oldtown. Many of the significant works done there in the past few decades were done on Otto’s order.”

“After the Great Council, King Jaehaerys feared my mother might rise in defiance of his will. He knew I had my own dragon, he knew Laena had tamed Vhagar and he knew my mother could match Daemon. He knew the Throne hadn’t been so weak since his father’s death.”

“Maegor,” whispered Aliandra, as if she uttered some forbidden name that was liable to bring the dead king back from the grave. Laenor nodded, eyes serious.

“There was also the matter of Lord Corlys,” I said. “He was wealthy, clever and as you know, charismatic. He had failed in a Great Council, where the stakes were low, but in war when those same men must fight against him? King Jaehaerys was not so sure. So he sought out a man who could match Lord Corlys, who could throw his weight behind my father and support him in his new position.”

“He found Otto Hightower,” said Laenor, disgust in his tone. “The Hightowers had already begun clashing with father over High Tide and shipping in the Narrow Sea. Otto was an obvious choice and so the old king summoned him, and his family, to King’s Landing.”

“Where he immediately began making himself entirely too comfortable. He ruled my father like one of those street performers rules a puppet.” The bitterness of my tone was obvious and Laenor laid a hand over my own. “But there was one who clashed with him so frequently that he became Otto’s outright enemy. One who would lead Otto into his greatest mistake.”

“Daemon Targaryen,” said Allyria. Aliandra scowled, hate briefly sparking in her eyes. Had we ever spoken about my uncle? No, we hadn’t.

“Yes,” I replied. “He opposed Otto’s power and in turn, Otto sought to block him from what he desired most. Otto succeeded when my mother died. He had Viserys sign a decree that named me his successor over my uncle. Over any other… suitable, male relatives. Otto wanted to give Daemon no avenue for challenge. The wording was overly strict.”

“It included younger brothers,” said Laenor. “But ultimately, the decree’s wording doesn’t matter. And wouldn’t have mattered… but Viserys married Alicent Hightower and had male children by her.”

“Otto was incensed, he fought to have his own decree overturned and I… I do not know why my father refused.” A lie, but a little one. It would do me little good to bring up the matter between Daemon and Alicent here.

“Eventually, Otto went too far and was banished from the capital. In his absence, Alicent became his influence, leader of what became the Greens. Even she stopped listening to him when I failed to really… answer her scheming with schemes of my own.” The girls nodded along.

“When I married dear Rhaenyra, she was still absorbed in her own hobbies, ignoring what supporters she did have and driving my father to rage,” laughed Laenor. “We worked it out. Our Blacks… we made a lot of progress in those early days.”

“We escalated the matter,” I said dryly. “Alicent had gotten comfortable, slowly moving her pieces about and growing her power. Those that opposed her and her influence found allies in us and the factions began to grow more hostile to one another.”

“There was little she could do to truly combat our growing faction with her skill set. She put her faith in others. It culminated with…” Laenor paused then.

“With Qarl Correy,” I finished for him. “A desperate lie, based on spurious rumours from half a decade before. When it failed, she had no one to turn to but her father. Courtiers and lords do not like being on the losing side, you see, and began abandoning her like rats off a sinking ship when my father sent my siblings away. Bad luck gave Otto an opening to return to the capital soon after.”

“He was scheming from the very beginning, even as he cried fake tears over his son’s maiming,” said Laenor quietly. “He had this idea, you see. Blame the Dornish for the death of Alys Strong, stir up that anti-Dornish sentiment in both factions and then commit to a war with your people.”

“A lengthy war, designed to give your people every advantage in their defence. He had the advantage, you see, that if a dragon rider should fall, it would harm the Blacks. Any murder done with poison would be blamed on the Dornish, any army felled by ambush would be the fault of the Dornish, and any lord sufficiently invested in war would be more likely to favour a male claimant later down the line-” Laenor cut my rant off with a wave and I realised both girls were staring at me as if I had sprouted a second head. I flushed and sipped at my wine.

“Someone killed him though,” said Aliandra eventually. “Who?”

“His own daughter’s spymaster,” replied Laenor and Aliandra’s eyes widened.

“We do not know if she knew,” I clarified. “I am inclined to think she did not.”

“It does not matter. The moment he died, the Dornish Conquest was set in stone,” Laenor sighed.

“And Gwayne Hightower was happy to present his father’s war plans to the council,” I told them. “Laenor came up with his own. I sold Wyl to the Stormlands to get Borros to agree. So instead of slaughtering every village, castle and trading caravan we encountered… well, you know how the Conquest went.”

They said nothing for the longest time. My heart hammered in my chest. The loss of what had been called Wyl had been a sore point amongst the Dornish in the years after the Conquest, although mostly because the land lost was fairly decent and represented a loss of control of the Boneway than any love for Wyl.

“And Ghost Hill?” asked Aliandra finally. Allyria cleared her throat before we could answer.

“T’was the Queen again,” she said quickly. “I was there, I heard that man declare his loyalty… he did it so we would fight and not surrender. He did it because he wanted to have the type of war the Hightowers dreamed of. It was not Laena Velaryon that felled my father with a dozen arrows as he surrendered, but it was Laena Velaryon that fed his murderer to her dragon.”

“The same dragon that adorns your banner, forever chasing its own tail,” I joked weakly. I watched as Aliandra’s hand rose into her hair once more, curling a strand around her finger before letting go. Again and again and again as she thought over our words, and the words of her friend, in silence.

“Will-” then she paused. “What… what will you do with Dorne? When you are Queen?”

The question had me peering at her and then Laenor in surprise.

“The same as any other kingdom?” I ventured.

“There will be no governor?” she asked. “No men controlling what we build and where I invest my money?”

“No,” I confirmed.

“And Luke will not be there to control me?” she asked. “To report back my every move, to unleash his dragon on me if I do something you do not agree with?”

“Luke is like to spend most of his time at sea,” I told her, wanting to reach out and pull her close. “If you let him, anyway. You know him, Aliandra, do you think I would have my own nephew play the spy? Do you think Luke has the ability to do so?”

Dark eyebrows came together in a frown as she thought that over. 

“If I may suggest,” said Laenor quietly. “Luke is a good boy, if impetuous. If you make an honest effort to at least have him as an ally, he will return that effort tenfold in return.”

“We are not saying you must… have him as a husband in truth,” I said, almost choking on the phrasing. “By all means, you will have no trouble from us should you choose to take a paramour.”

“As long as the children have the right parentage,” Laenor hastily said, earning himself an annoyed glance from myself. Aliandra was blushing and Allyria was doing all she could to keep a straight face.

“We just ask that you make an effort to connect with him. Laenor and I fought like cats when we first married. Our bedding ceremony was mostly spent bickering with one another.” Laenor laughed at that. “It took six months for us to talk like sensible grown ups to one another. Life became much easier then.”

“I… he is so rude though!” she finally burst out. “And he talks over everyone, does not stop boasting about himself and he sulks if anyone beats him at the yard!”

“He will grow out of it,” I assured her. 

“Or father will beat it out of him,” said Laenor dryly. Aliandra flushed and looked down at her feet. Allyria gave her a sly smile.

“Were you not saying he was much improved just yesterday?” she asked. Aliandra went even redder and I took pity.

“Turning this into a lecture was not my intention, I am sorry,” I told her.

“S’fine,” she mumbled.

“You know my plan for Dorne then. You know why we went to war. You have Allyria’s assurance that we did not intend for the sad events at Ghost Hill… you have lived with us for nearly a decade now…” My voice grew a little raspy then and I paused to clear my throat and fight the sudden emotion clawing at me. Aliandra peered up at me, her cheeks still red. “I do hope that you enjoy your time in Dorne. And… and should you need to talk, my door is always open.”

“I hope so too,” she finally said, back to looking at me as if I had grown a second head. “But… thank you.”


	213. Dorne - Chapter 184

Sunspear was breathtaking. A riot of colour that we could see even from the ship as it glided into the docks. The nobility of Dorne stood arrayed and waiting for us, or rather, waiting for Aliandra. Said princess was bouncing in place next to me, looking ready to crawl out of her own skin.

“Deep breaths,” I told her. To be fair to her, she did try.

“I am just…” she stopped, face screwed up in frustration.

“You’ll be fine,” I assured her before turning and gesturing for my children to gather themselves into some semblance of order and prepare to exit the ship behind Aliandra and myself. I had even gone as far as to have the dragons be further out to sea, trailing behind our convey so that her return would not be done in the shadow of half a dozen dragons. A gamble on my part, one that had been… frustrating to arrange as well. Luckily, Laena had stepped in as well. They did not, as a rule, like being left behind. 

“I see my mother!” she exclaimed “And uncle Aron and- who is that man next to him?”

I followed her gaze.

“Gwayne Hightower,” I told her. Her smile flickered a little as she likely recalled everything I had told her. Was it a sign of madness that I felt guilty over how not guilty I felt over the biased account I had given her? I dabbed at the sweat beading on my forehead as I waited for her to speak again. That was the issue with Dorne that was likely to trouble me most, I realised. It was damnably hot. No cool winds or clouds to detract from the sun’s glare as there were in King’s Landing and Dragonstone. I had expected it, understood it… but to feel it was something else.

The sun was oppressive, beating down on you with waves of heat as the glare blinded you. I would have to be sure the children drank as much water as possible. 

Aliandra did not speak again before it was time to step off the ship, clearly lost in her own thoughts. My children were less quiet. By the time we finally began moving, I could hear a near mutinous level of complaint about the heat being rapidly hushed by their father, Laena and Joffrey. I tried not to smile. Aliandra caught my eye with a questioning look before tilting her head to listen to them as well, grinning broadly, setting me to smiling as well.

The broad grin did not flicker, although I might have wanted it to, when Aron Dayne stepped forward and fell to one knee before his niece. He wasn’t the most physically intimidating man, he was thin and rather short. Paler skin indicating his Stony Dornish heritage with sandy blond hair and deep blue eyes. It was hard to see any of him in Aliandra, really.

“Welcome home, niece,” he said warmly as he rose. “Welcome to your kingdom of Dorne, my Princess.”

She smiled, although it was a smile full of emotion, like she wanted to cry and was refusing to. I could do nothing but watch, to interfere would be to undermine her. Even if Aron Dayne had levelled quite the insult by greeting her first. Actually, I wasn’t sure I was bothered by that, the more I thought of it. It was an astute political move, as well as reassuring Aliandra that she was wanted and valued in Dorne.

“Thank you, uncle,” she finally said, sounding out of breath and nearly choking on the last word. “Thank you.”

He gave her another warm smile and turned to me.

“Your Grace, I extend the hospitality of Sunspear and the Dornish people, on behalf of my Princess, to you and yours.” He gestured and bread and salt was brought forth. I took it with a smile and made sure there was no hesitation when I partook of it.

“Thank you, Lord Dayne,” I said. “I have heard much about Sunspear and Dorne. I have wanted to visit for so very long.”

His eyes glittered as he smiled and nodded to that.

“Might I introduce my children?” I asked. Aliandra’s face lit up at that and Aron Dayne’s expression softened.

“We have heard much about your children, even so far south,” he replied easily. “It would be an honour.”

Introductions were fairly smooth, even if Aliandra interrupted one or two times to the amusement of all, mostly to breathlessly inform her uncle of some adventure she and Alys had or how Aemma had taught her some obscure fact. By the time Aron began introducing some of the lords that had accompanied him to greet us, the tension had eased significantly.

“-and might I introduce you to my sister, Mariah.” Mariah was much like her brother, although her eyes were dark, like Aliandra’s. I had met the lady in question, but I had never had any meaningful conversation with her. She disliked me, did not trust me and didn’t want to deal with me, and such a state of affairs had been inevitable from the day her then three year old child was taken from her and placed into my care. 

“My lady,” I said politely. I could see Aliandra in her face more easily than I could see her in Aron Dayne’s. I suppose that made sense, given she was her mother. Aron must resemble their other parent.

“Your Grace,” was her polite if cold reply. “Thank you for watching over my daughter.”

The stilted and stiff manner of her words suggested they had been drilled into her by someone. Aliandra peered between us curiously, as if she had not foreseen any issue between us and was rather surprised to find there was. I suppose I should be thankful that such a reaction meant Mariah was not cursing my name the moment I was out of earshot.

“Your daughter is a wonderful young woman,” I replied. “It is no burden.”

“You still have our thanks,” said Aron hastily as Mariah’s eyes flashed dangerously. 

“Mother and I are going to go on a tour, Rhaenyra. All about Sunspear and maybe even some of the new vineyards!” Aliandra informed me. I smiled at her. Visiting Dorne finally, seeing her home… nothing was going to wipe that smile off her face, apparently. My unease with Mariah’s hostility was swept away by the joy in that smile.

“Might I remind you, Lord Dayne, that Aliandra is still a ward of the crown and that her actions must still be overseen by Her Grace.” Aliandra’s smile died and I nearly bit my tongue with the urge not to scream. Instead, I turned to Gwayne Hightower with a brittle smile. Aron Dayne looked ready to launch himself at the man and whilst such a scene might be entertaining… I did not need Gwayne ruining my tentative relations with Aliandra’s supporters.

“Lord Dayne and I will discuss the matter in private, but I do not see any issue in letting her mother take over for the duration of our visit.” Aliandra sighed in relief when I said that. Gwayne’s return smile was equally brittle.

“My apologies if I seem overly pedantic, but these things must be done properly,” he told me. I couldn’t quite parse his tone.

“Of course, Ser Gwayne. Never fear, if there is something we do here in Dorne, it’s things in the proper manner.” I did not get Aron’s joke, but evidently those around me did as the chuckled or suppressed smiles of amusement.

“So I have seen,” he all but sneered back. If Aliandra’s excitement and obvious enthusiasm for being home and showing her friends said home had eased the tension, Gwayne Hightower opening his mouth had brought it all back in one fell swoop. I wanted to take the man by his shoulders and shake some sense into him.

“Come now, I think we have stood outside in the sun for long enough,” said Aron, after a moment of tension. “We have prepared a meal to welcome you all, an introduction to traditional Dornish food.”

Gwayne nodded in acquiescence and we all made to follow Aron’s lead. Behind us, servants moved forth to begin taking our luggage from the ships. I cast a wary glance around, noting how agitated Steffon looked and how the various Dornish nobles cast annoyed or outright hostile glances about. I grit my teeth and took a deep breath. I knew in my heart that father could not have favoured me entirely in his treaty, but to appoint Gwayne here? Perhaps he was not the snake his father had been, but he was hardly the man to forge peace between the Dornish and Westeros.

The Old Palace was jaw-dropping in its beauty. A forest of white stone towers topped with domes of shining bronze that near blinded you if you gazed too long at them. I could only remember the Spear Tower, the tallest of such towers, by name. The central one seemed grandest and I was quite sure it did have a name, but I couldn’t recall it in the moment, and asking would likely provoke amusement from my hosts, at best.

“Your home is very beautiful,” I said as we passed between an arch of white stone into the Old Palace proper.

“Thank you,” said Aron as Aliandra’s face lit up. It seemed as though her head never stayed in the same place for two seconds. Wide eyes swinging back and forth in amazement and wonder, even when we entered the palace proper to the blessed coolness of the inside. I did not fail to note how close Mariah stayed to her, nor the looks she directed my way whenever she thought her brother was not paying attention to her.

Inside saw us walking past beautiful tapestries and carpets from Myr, fine exotic wooden furniture and paintings of past rulers that stared at us judementally from on high. I shuddered when my eyes found the one of Meria Martell. It had clearly not been painted in her youth, that was certain. I was almost glad to enter the feasting hall when the time came.

“Have you any messages from my nieces and nephews?” asked Gwayne, when the food was finally laid before us. I paused for a moment, watching as he navigated his meal with practice and grace. A far cry from the boy he was all those years ago, humiliated as he could barely feed himself.

“I fear your sister’s departure has their minds on other matters.” He flinched at that and looked down to his meal. I scooped some vibrant red sauce up with a slice of bread and tried a little. Dornish food could definitely boast of its deliciousness, I reflected as I took another bite, savouring the sweet spice of the sauce before adding a dollop of it to the side of my plate.

“Alicent wrote to me to inform me of her growing… dissatisfaction. I did not believe she would do something so drastic.” The admission said more than he had intended. I wonder if Garmon Hightower had known of his niece’s plans before she had put them into motion? Then I realised it did not matter, and the realisation brought a bitter taste to my mouth. Aegon had his Greens, and with his mother now at least pretending to be firmly behind him, they were no longer divided and at war with themselves. The Reach and the Westerlands-

I shook my head, annoyed with my thoughts. I had the Reynes and their allies. I had the Tarlys and their allies. I had the Stormlands, Dorne and the Vale. I had proven my worth a thousand times over, and even with Aegon as their perfect prince, he would find it impossible to put together the alliance I had. Our father… it was strange, but I hoped he had longer left in him than his canon counterpart, even though such a state of affairs only gave Aegon more time to win over new allies and for older lords that supported me to die.

“Neither did I,” I replied eventually, spearing some roasted pepper and popping into my mouth. I suppressed the urge to moan at how delicious it was, but it was close. Gwayne shrugged.

“I suppose it is none of my business,” he replied glumly. “Your father has promised me a small estate of my own when my mission here is finished, so perhaps I should just focus on such a reward and leave my sister to her own. She doesn’t listen to me anyway.”

I finished my mouthful of food and then sighed.

“You seem to be getting along well here in regards to your duties,” I lied.

“Bringing the Dornish law in line with our own has been a complicated affair,” he said, his tone full of frustration. “If I have to hear yet another lord telling me that his right to this or that is sacred I may scream.”

“I had not thought our laws so different,” I said, curious. Gwayne sneered.

“It is little things. Coinage, weights, trade, taxes… some minor laws on how they govern their smallfolk.” He waved his hand. “But the Dornish resist change and Aron Dayne uses every order, every mistake, to further dig his heels in.”

“The laws regarding smallfolk?” I asked, suddenly worried. Hadn’t they some laws about supporting their smallfolk in times of famine or if they were wounded in war? If Gwayne was working on repealing those, it would certainly be troublesome. “Surely we are not repealing the poor laws?”

He tilted his head inquisitively at me before sighing.

“No,” he finally said. “Dayne insisted they stay, along with a whole host of other minor laws, in exchange for bringing a few of our laws in and having the Dornish actually follow them.”

He almost spat those final few words. I blinked and he must have caught the look on my face because he sighed again.

“I apologise if I am being vague. Perhaps we could just eat, I tire of discussing my failures and tainted successes.” Some part of me pitied him. For all that he was Alicent’s brother, he was not a bad guy at heart.

“Of course,” I replied. “If you require any aid whilst we are here, I shall instruct Ser Joffrey to meet with you,” I told him.

“Thank you,” he said, and his tone sounded so genuinely earnest it hurt. Joffrey had… I looked back at my meal, appetite suddenly deserting me. That was right. It had been Joffrey, and by extension me, that had crippled Gwayne. That had seen him end up here where he clearly was not happy. I prodded at the lamb a bit before scooping some up so as not to seem impolite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for an update to my other story, Heir of the Cruel, which should be coming sometime this week. As always, thank you for the comments you all leave, I love reading each one :)


	214. Dorne - Chapter 185

The office of the regent of Dorne was decidedly less decorated than I had been expecting. Several solid bookshelves and a large desk dominated it. Apart from that, there was little in the way of furniture or finery. Aron Dayne was already seated, watching me with guarded eyes as I smiled and made my greeting.

“You wished to discuss matters, Your Grace?” he said, after I had taken a seat opposite him. Wine was brought forth for us and the servants then departed at Dayne’s nod.

“I wish to discuss Dorne,” I told him, which made him tense slightly. I raised a hand. “I am well aware I’m not its ruler, Lord Dayne. I merely wish to know the lay of the land and what I can do to help secure Aliandra’s reign.”

“My niece’s reign is secure,” he said quickly.

“With Garin lurking about?” I asked and he scowled.

“Curse that man,” he growled. “Qoren would strangle the life from him were he here, kinslaying or not.”

I remained silent, waiting, as Dayne sighed and brought his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Still… I will not deny Garin’s promises are seductive to many.” His hands came to rest on the desk as he leaned back to watch my reaction.

“Fight for Dorne’s independence, push out the dragons - I know well what he promises,” I informed him. “I can also acknowledge such promises will interest many without condemning them as traitors.”

“Can you? An uncommonly accepting woman you are then. I have had to deal with the Hightower boy calling for heads every step of the way,” he told me. His words were measured… a test?

“His heart is in the right place, but Gwayne is quite... excitable,” I said, keeping my tone level. “I assure you I can approach the matter with a level head.”

Dayne brought his hands together, resting his chin on entwined fingers as he leaned forward to study me. Silence reigned for a good while before he chuckled.

“Well then, I suppose I can not deny our future Queen a brief summary of Dorne’s many happenings,” he said, and there was only a slight trace of bitterness there. “We have the Ladybrights, I would assume the single Toland now that she has returned, the Dalts, the Drinkwaters, the Ullers and the Jordaynes.”

I blinked at the brusqueness in his tone. He sighed again. “I have done much to ensure there is no enemy poised to strike at Sunspear when Garin makes his move, but His Grace’s many decisions have made my job more than a little difficult.”

“How so?” I asked.

“These investments,” he replied and there was bitterness in his tone at that. “Do not think, princess, that we do not see what the game is. We Dornish are no fools, nor do we take kindly to your father crippling our food supplies for his own benefit.”

I kept my face neutral at that.

“We have invested here at great cost to ourselves,” I told him. “Your lands are richer and food cheaper than it has ever been.”

“Imported food,” he stated angrily. “Food that can be taken away should we rebel.”

“We are not the only people you can import food from,” I pointed out. “Surely a large market exists over in Essos.”

“Indeed it does,” said Aron, his tone carrying threat.

“Tell me, which houses resent the investment plan the most?” I asked. Dayne held my gaze for a moment longer.

“Vaith and Gargalen,” he admitted after a moment. “Your Hightower has his men crawling over their lands and is about a day away from dictating what they eat every morning.”

“I can relay this to my father, have him pull Gwayne’s men back.” In truth, I wasn’t sure if he would, but if I were to go in person he might be so overwhelmed at my return, he’d grant me a boon… guilt surged through me then.

“Such an overture would be appreciated,” said Aron, tone becoming less hostile and more thoughtful. “Although I have a better idea, if you would hear it?”

“I would,” I replied. He nodded. 

“Meria Vaith has a deeper grudge against the Iron Throne than just Gwayne Hightower,” he told me. “You have her eldest daughter and heir in your custody.”

“As a hostage to her good behaviour,” I said.

“As was agreed when Dorne surrendered, yes. However, Meria sent her daughter off as a mother of two sweet girls. Now, she is the mother of one.” My heart stuttered in my chest.

“What happened?” I asked, horrified.

“A riding accident. The girl raced several of her peers and fell from her mount. She lingered a few hours in pain and then passed away.” His tone was… empty, as if he was trying to keep himself to merely the facts. “I am told she asked several times for her sister.”

I winced.

“I will speak to my father,” I promised. “If Valena can be sent home, I will ensure she is.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“She is close friends with Aliandra,” I replied, feeling colour touch my cheeks. “She is often at the manse. She is a sweet girl… I did not know about her sister though.”

“I see,” said Aron, his puzzled expression becoming a warm smile. “Yes, that will do much to bring Meria around to Aliandra’s side.”

“And Lord Gargalen?” Aron shrugged in response.

“He will come around if Meria does, especially if Gwayne withdraws his men to some degree. His lands will be in the middle of loyal territory and Trebor is no fool. Belligerent, yes, but no fool.”

“Are there any others that can be brought to Aliandra’s side?” I asked.

“I doubt it. Wells… Lord Gerris was once a strong supporter, but his lands have been much reduced by his neighbour’s… good fortune and development,” Aron told me, tone almost mocking at the words ‘good fortune’.

“There is little I can do to reverse such decisions now,” I said, tone apologetic. In truth, I felt a little guilt. I had supported Lyman’s plan for Dorne, and I still did. It could not be allowed to slip out of our hands and become as it had been before, a constant hostile presence on our borders. One that could be pumped full of money and resources in order to divide us or draw our eye from other matters.

A far cry from how I had felt when our armies had first marched, I thought bitterly. 

“And of course, there is Lord Yronwood.” That made me pause in surprise. At my look, Dayne smiled. “He resents Walter Wyl greatly. Garin’s alliance with him infuriated the man. My agents inform me that he will join the side of the man that can deliver Wyl to him alive.”

I fought the urge to shudder at that.

“Wyl is a hard man to track down,” I said aloud. Dayne nodded.

“As your Stark lord has found out. Still, the actions of the Iron Throne have done much to impress Lord Qyle.” It would be uncharitable to wonder if Bennard had finally been good for something other than giving me a headache. I recalled the days when his support had been a welcome surprise and grimaced.

“Bennard is likely to keep going until either he or Wyl are dead,” I said, tone conveying how tired I was with the man. “I do wonder what Garin was thinking when he accepted the man’s fealty.”

“Likely he was thinking that Wyl would be easy to betray and execute later down the line, once he’d had his use of him,” Aron answered, tone conveying his disgust at such matters. “He does not have family to fight for him anymore, and there is no one else who would risk themselves to speak in his defence.”

I swallowed at that seemingly offhanded statement. Wyl’s family had perished when Caron men had taken his holdings. They had put the defenders to the sword, torn half the damn keep down and ensured there was no man, woman or child within the walls left with the blood of Wyl in their veins… It had been my actions that had given them such an opportunity. Give them Wyl as sacrifice and the entire of Dorne could emerge relatively unscathed, had been my thoughts at the time…

“It was a shame really, his heir showed promise.” He definitely saw me flinch that time. I grimaced when his gaze became a bit sharper.

“His heir?” I asked. 

“Reyna of Wyl. I knew her, actually. Her father sent her to Sunspear for a year when she obtained her majority. She was clever, but she lacked Wyl’s cruelty. There were those that wondered if that would compromise our border… ultimately they were right.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Dayne fixed me with a cool glare.

“She surrendered the castle to the invaders and got the whole lot of them killed. Had she settled in for a siege, deployed her men in ambush and fought in the way hundreds of Wyls had fought before her, she’d likely still be alive today. Certainly, more of the Wyl family would be.” Every word felt like a slap in the face. Had Elenda known about this Reyna? She had to have done… why had no one ever…

“What of Garin’s actual supporters?” I rasped, suddenly wanting to change the subject. Aron looked as he wanted to say more, to drive the point home and for a moment I thought he would… then he sat backwards once more and gave me a searching look.

“You mean every single lord and lady that made their excuse to not attend Sunspear in the coming month?” he asked. “Truly, there has never been a more see-through rebellion.”

“Pardon?” I said, mind still reeling. He shook his head.

“I am exaggerating. My dearest cousin is here, along with that disgusting creature masquerading as Lord of Sandstone.” I forced myself to focus, to cast thoughts of Reyna Wyl from my mind and not let Aron Dayne run rings about me.

“I had heard Casella Dayne had her issues with young Aliandra, but to support Garin?” At my shocked tone Aron glared at his desk.

“My mistake, she seems to think. She and Qoren were… love is not the right word. They were fond of one another in their youth. She would have been a prestigious enough match and their marriage seemed certain.” And then he’d married Mariah. “It was I who invited him to Starfall, it was I who introduced him to Mariah… and so it is I who was ultimately at fault when Qoren was so taken with her he chose to pursue her instead. Love instead of fondess.”

“They loved each other, then?” I asked. “Mariah and Qoren?”

“Greatly. I thought I would lose Mariah when he died. It was Aliandra who saved her… I thought I would lose her again when Aliandra was taken from us.” He stopped for a moment, as if to control himself once more. “I must thank you for allowing her so many visits and so many letters and gifts.”

“I do not require thanks for that,” I told him hastily, tears pricking at my own eyes.

“But you have them nonetheless.” He stopped again, as if he were fighting with himself. “You seem to have raised Aliandra well, like one of your own even.”

“I wish her only the best,” I told him earnestly and he smiled.

“We all do. At first I feared you would raise some northern lady, but it is clear that you have done all you can to ensure Aliandra is Dornish at heart.” I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that.

“She loves Dorne,” I told him. “She belongs here. It will not be long before she returns.”

“No, it will not. I can not tell you how much I long for that day.” Grief pinched at my heart but I ignored it once more.

“She longs for that day more than any, I think,” I told him quite truthfully and he chuckled. I rubbed at the bridge of my nose for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Is there anything else I should know? Which lords have not attended?”

“Back to business,” he said. “Manwoody, Fowler and Blackmont. They are Garin’s creatures through and through. Not even Walter Wyl’s presence could turn them from him.”

“I trust you have already explored every solution to the issue?” The implication could not be missed. Aron grimaced.

“Every solution,” he replied. “I still look even now, but they know well my skills. If I could find true proof, I could drag them to Sunspear in chains-”

“But they are cunning, Garin too, and none have yet discovered how they communicate.” Aron Dayne nodded, frustration echoing over his features.

“I would do near anything to know how they are doing it,” he muttered. “I had hoped that you would have some insight.”

I shook my head and he growled.

“I will have the little bastard dead one day, see if I don’t.” I ignored his outburst and waited for him to recover his emotions. “He threatens my niece. My beloved sister’s daughter.”

He shook his head and raised his face to meet my eyes. 

“We all long to see the end of him,” I assured him. 

“Yes, it will not be long before he makes trouble for you. And you have your own enemies to the east.” The reminder made my heart stutter. Always so easy to forget, I thought as my hand curled around my prosthetic.

“What information do you have?” I asked, trying not to snap.

“Not much. He is moving ever westward and taking his sweet time in doing so. Everyone who knows anything seems so oddly reluctant to speak. Even when… persuaded to.” By the Seven… bile surged in my throat momentarily. 

“He will not be able to do so for long,” I murmured. 

“But for now, all we can do is wait. I wonder which disgraced uncle will launch his claim first? Would you care for a bet, Your Grace?”


	215. Dorne - Chapter 186

For all that I had been dreading this trip, even if I could not precisely figure out why I did, it was turning out to be rather sedate. There had been feasts aplenty, of course, with a host of lords from across Dorne in attendance and an array of food I would dearly miss when we left, but no open hostility yet. Of course, there was an undercurrent of tension, one would have to be blind not to see that, but so far Dorne had been very… routine.

“When will MY punishment end?” whined Alys as Laena corrected her stance with the dagger once more. My children were all some degree of waspish today, the Dornish heat making sleep hard and tempers fray at the edges. “Jocelyn’s will end soon, so when will mine?”

“When I am confident you know you were in the wrong for sneaking away up a mountain,” Laena snapped back as I rubbed at the bridge of my nose with my fingers. The children weren’t the only ones suffering from the heat, I admitted begrudgingly. Sleep had been hard for me too, and Laena and Joffrey were the same if the dark smudges under their eyes were anything to go by. I watched as Alys’ expression darkened for a moment and it seemed as if she would say something in response to that, but Laena was already barking for her to begin again and so she wisely shut up and thrust the dagger she was holding squarely at her aunt’s face.

Laena knocked it aside with a grunt of annoyance.

“You know,” said Aliandra, looking amused from her perch on a nearby bench. “This was supposed to be my practice time?”

Laena paused before wiping at her forehead.

“My apologies,” she replied, seemingly realising that our little group had attracted an audience. I glanced at the Dornish who were suddenly very engrossed in their own tasks. Timeon Drinkwater and a man in Yronwood colours I did not recognise by his face alone. Drinkwater, I knew from Aron’s little briefing, only paid lip service to their Yronwood masters, hoping to break free of their influence by supporting Aliandra. Ser Nymor Uller and his squire, the young boy less successful than his master in not openly staring at the array of princesses that had arrived in the yards this morning. I didn’t bother suppressing the smile when Nymor met my eyes, followed my gaze and set the boy to running laps for his inattention.

I lifted my face to the benches directly opposite me. I suppose the idea of Aliandra demonstrating she had martial skill had attracted many interested faces to the yard, because I could not imagine many of those present here usually attended it. Mariah Martell, flanked by Sylvenna Ladybright and Moriah Dalt. Friends and gossips, perhaps I should be thankful I could not make out their features from here. I had no doubt more than a few nasty looks would have been directed my way.

My attention was pulled back to Laena as she and Aliandra seemed to come to some kind of agreement. Alys sighed happily and made her way towards me as Aliandra hopped to her feet and scooped her spear up with an excited grin, barely able to contain her enthusiasm for showing everyone just what she could do. My daughter dropped down beside me with a groan. I gestured for water to be brought and she seized the goblet and gulped at it like a woman emerging from a desert.

“How did she even rope me into practice?” she grumbled when she was done. 

“You opened your mouth too wide when Steffon put Jocelyn in the dirt.” At my reminder, she turned heartbroken eyes to me.

“Mama,” she whined. “You can’t agree with her!”

“I forfeited any right to complain when she took over your lessons,” I reminded her and she pouted.

“My riding lessons,” she pointed out. I tilted my head.

“Fair,” I replied. “But you must stop antagonising your sisters. You know how they take it.”

“It’s just a bit of fun,” she protested, eyes wide. “I don’t hate them like the Baratheons do!”

“But when you tease them so and they begin to fear every misstep, what are they to think?” At my question, Alys slumped backwards.

“I don’t look for them to misstep,” she grumbled. “And they can tease me in turn.”

“Consider this, Alys,” I said, keeping my tone even as Aliandra began to circle Laena, both watching the other, each ready to seize on any opening they could find. “If the other person is not laughing, is it a joke anymore? No, it is bullying.”

She glared at her shoes.

“I don’t mean it that way,” she said quietly as Laena and Aliandra exchanged a few blows before moving away from one another when neither came out on top. “It just comes out. I can’t help it.”

“You better start helping it,” I informed her, looking away from the duel to my daughter. “Because should you keep doing it, I’ll keep letting your aunt punish you in turn.”

She looked at me, eyes wide and startled. Then a single tear slid down her cheek and her gaze turned to her shoes once more.

“Yes, mama,” she said, tone miserable.

“Good,” I replied. I knew it was not right, nor strictly fair, to make Laena punish my child, yet… well, I had not established such a great track record there, had I? I tapped an annoyed beat out on my thighs as Aliandra moved in, pushing Laena onto the defensive.

“Aunt Laena’s leg is hurting her,” said Alys after a moment, tone still bearing traces of sullenness. I blinked at the observation and then studied my lover. I could see no sign of such beyond her giving Aliandra more room than usual- “She’s… do you really not see it?”

I glanced down at Alys again. She frowned.

“But you are always watching papa and aunt Laena fight,” she protested. “Don’t you know how they move by now?”

Ignoring how rude that was, it did not feel prudent to tell my daughter that I was not precisely watching their footwork when I came to watch my husband and goodsister practice in the yards.

“I have always been useless at such things,” I admitted, flushing despite myself.

“Then allow me to confirm that your daughter speaks the truth, Your Grace,” came a new voice. Even Alys jumped. A young man approached us, face familiar, although I could not place it. He bowed, but the bow was shallow. “The Butcher of Ghost Hill does indeed favour her left over her right. The princess has seen so and is using it to her advantage.”

At the name, my skin crawled.

“You shouldn’t use that name,” said Alys, tone dark. “It’s not true anyway, it was Dickon Bulwer who deserves that name and aunt Laena made sure he paid for it.”

“So impressive, to know so much so young,” he purred. “Especially when you gainsay those that were there.”

Now I knew him.

“Enough,” I said, tone cold. “You know as well as I that even the rightful lady of Ghost Hill speaks for my goodsister.”

His features darkened slightly at my emphasis on the word rightful.

“My sister was young,” he said then. “She was taken by the guards to hide away. I fought with my father’s men. I fought-”

“Myles, do not be so rude to our esteemed guests,” came another voice then, and I had the feeling I had been set up slightly as the speaker stepped into view. Tall and blonde with blue eyes. Lady Casella Dayne. Next to me, Alys stiffened. “It is a privilege to finally meet you, Your Grace, I fear I have been a tad unwell these recent days. Too ill for feasts, anyway.”

“Likewise, Lady Casella,” I murmured. Her bow was much more natural looking, even if the mocking glint in her eye and her smirk made my teeth itch. Myles Sand, soon to be Toland, sneered for a moment. “I hope you are well now?”

“Better,” she replied. “I fear all this foreign food disagrees with me.”

“That is a shame,” I said blandly. “I have found it all to be quite delicious so far.”

“So it has been noted,” she chuckled. “Not many take so well to our… spicier dishes. And what does the little princess think?”

“I think we should serve more stuff like this at home,” said Alys, eyes wide and feigning innocence. Casella Dayne’s indulgent laugh was quite forced at that.

“From the mouth of babes,” she said, tone patronising and almost dismissive. I knew my daughter well enough that she wished to scratch the woman’s eyes out for that comment. “Well, I can not stay long, I only came to see our Princess fight for a few moments but now I must be off. Do remember your manners in future, Myles.”

Had I just been ambushed? Or had she ambushed Myles? Something to relay to Aron, certainly. We watched her leave and then spent a good few minutes in silence before Myles turned back, supposedly sure she was not watching him, ugly scowl now firmly in place on his features.

“I will have justice for my father,” he vowed. His tone sent chills down my spines. “I will see his murderers dead.”

“And what of Lewyn’s murderer, Myles?” Allyria stalked towards us, anger evident on her features. “I note you are not so keen to bring them to justice.”

“I will always push to see the wrongs done to our family made whole,” he said. “I will make them acknowledge that they blame a dead man to protect the living criminal because it is politically advantageous to do so.”

“Big words,” replied Allyria. “I wonder whose they are?”

“Sister,” said Myles, mock offence suffusing his tone. “Just what do you accuse me of?”

“Nothing you aren’t guilty of, I’m sure,” she replied icily. “Perhaps you should be a good boy and follow Lady Dayne to find out if she has any errands that need running? Perhaps she needs her boots cleaned or some tea fetched?”

His face went ugly with rage then, and he might have stepped towards her but my knights were faster, moving in closer. At the threat he stopped and took a few deep breaths, Allyria remaining still throughout it all, her expression unmoving.

“You will not always be useful to the dragons, sweet sister. Let’s see how fast they abandon you when they have the chance.” He stormed away then, leaving us in shocked silence.

“I’m sorry you all had to see that,” said Allyria quietly. “He is a shame on our House.”

“It’s okay,” said Alys. “I think I preferred him over the Dayne lady.”

Allyria’s mouth quirked into a small smile.

“You did well, Alys,” I told her. “You kept your temper when provoked.”

She beamed at me, at the praise I had given her. I shook my head.

“What did he aim to achieve with this mummery?” I wondered aloud. Allyria shrugged.

“Casella is furious with him, if that helps your wonderings. I only knew he had come here because she was ranting about it.” I frowned.

“To herself?” I asked. That seemed more than passingly odd.

“To Lord Gascoyne,” she replied. “He was waiting for her to come back, so I thought I might stay and see if I could ascertain his business.”

“And you caught Casella’s ire with dear Myles.” She nodded.

“Ser Joffrey taught me that,” she said cheerfully. “It’s always useful to know why people are lurking in corridors suspiciously.”

“Another eavesdropper he has unleashed on us,” I said dryly and Alys frowned.

“Another?” she asked.

“Ask your brother about that one,” I told her and her eyes went wide. Allyria laughed at her reaction. “Alys, I don’t think I need to tell you but I will. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“Yes, mama,” she replied solemnly.

“And you, Allyria…” I railed off as she perked up. “I have no power over you, but I do encourage you to tell Aron Dayne and Aliandra of this, and I would also encourage you to not spread the matter too far afield.”

“Fear not, Your Grace,” she replied, understanding in her eyes. I nodded before turning back to the yards. Laena was seated now, watching Ser Nymor and Aliandra spar. I did not miss the occasional turn of her head, shooting uncertain glances in our direction. Nor did I miss the fact that Moriah Dalt was no longer by Mariah’s side.

“Do so soon,” I told her. “I fear he will already know, though.”

“She left after Lady Dayne did,” said Alys.

“Then he definitely knows already,” remarked Allyria dryly. “Is there anything you wish to relay to him through me?”

“I will speak with him myself, but he will want Casella’s annoyance with Myles word for word.”

“Then I shall commit it to memory, Your Grace,” she promised before hesitating, her eyes flickering to Alys and back to me. After a moment of what seemed like debate, she spoke. “Be careful of my brother, Your Grace. Lady Laena had him under guard after the massacre and- well…”

She trailed off awkwardly.

“He will be watched,” I vowed. “He will not be able to strike at you.”

“It’s not him I worry about striking at me,” she said ruefully. “But thank you for hearing my warning all the same. I will go to Aron Dayne now, I think.”

“Bye, Allyria!” said Alys, her voice sing-song as she waved. I frowned at her and she gave me an innocent smile.

“She’s nice,” Alys explained when she sat again. “She was really quiet at home, but she’s nice.”

“I’m glad you like her,” I said, thoughts turning towards Myles Sand once more.

“I kind of have to,” murmured Alys. “She’s Aliandra’s friend, after all.”


	216. Dorne - Chapter 187

“How is your leg?” I asked Laena as she shed her training gear. It still hurt to see her so scarred…

“It aches a bit,” she admitted. “But you’ll note that I only engaged in the one sparring match, and that I took Aliandra to the butts after she had finished learning that trick from Ser Nymor.”

“Then I shall drop the matter,” I said, the knowledge of her pain sitting unhappily in my breast, yet knowing that she had tried to be responsible and was continuing to be so by taking the time to rest afterwards. She gave me a grateful smile and slipped into the freshly heated water in the tub.

“You can be a little annoyed if you wish,” she said as she settled. “Falena certainly was.”

“I am not your mother,” I said, wanting so desperately to take her up on the offer. She smiled and then closed her eyes. “No more sparring.”

She chuckled.

“A little bit of exercise won’t set me back that far,” she reasoned. “If you wish, I will send a letter to Gerardys.”

“Or better yet, you could come with me to King’s Landing.” At my suggestion, her eyes opened wide.

“What?” I wanted to laugh at her expression. “We’ve barely been here a week.”

“A week and a few days,” I corrected her. “But I need to see Father regarding some matters best discussed face to face.”

Laena bit her lip, looking torn.

“I would welcome the company,” I said, and I saw the moment she gave in.

“Very well. I shall have my checkup… and Luke will enjoy my presence, anyway.” At the reminder, I smiled, even as Laena relaxed once more.

“He must miss you,” I said. She nodded.

“He misses us all, but-” she hesitated, only continuing when I made a questioning noise in the back of my throat. “He is not doing as badly as I feared. His letters are full of the endless things he is learning, the fun he is having with the other squires…”

“That is good,” I said and she nodded. “But you aren’t happy?”

“No! That’s not- I am happy, but it makes my heart hurt a little. My boy is growing up.” Ah. Well, I suppose I couldn’t deny I had the same feelings at times. Which did remind me, now that she mentioned it. “What? You have that look on your face again.”

“No, it’s nothing. Well, it’s just that you reminded me that I need to speak with Ser Steffon.” At that she smiled a little.

“Jocelyn,” she guessed. “How long does she have to go?”

“Just over a week if I am aiming to be pedantic about the matter,” I informed my lover. She chuckled. “I need to know if Steffon intends to keep her as his squire.”

“I hope he does,” she said, before dropping beneath the water and near catching me with the splash she made. I waited for her head to break the surface. “You should go now, then, and leave me to my bath in peace.”

“You do not normally protest my presence during your baths.” The words slipped out before I could stop them and her cheeks went pink even as she gave me a raised eyebrow. “Point taken, I shall leave you to your bath.”

I left cursing my mouth and praying that such a tease would not get back to our hosts, the last thing I needed was for Aron Dayne to have blackmail material on me. Or worse, his cousin. He had been amused with Casella and Myles’ open bickering. Apparently, Myles resented playing the junior to lords and ladies with children older than him, especially when he believed he brought more to the table with his tragic story and castle closer to Sunspear than all the rest. That he had broken ranks then was not all that surprising.

My feet took me to the rooms my children were having their daily lessons in, watched over by my household knights and their formidable commander. The white knight smiled at me as I entered to the familiar sound of Aemma reading aloud for the others. No great tale of adventure and heroism today, though, rather a dry book on the fractious history of the Riverlords. Septa Leyla was watching my youngest daughter read, her eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and approval. From the sounds of it, they were discussing the rise of the Justman kings. Steffon came silently when motioned and we stepped outside, more than one pair of curious eyes on us.

“How goes your day?” I asked as the door swung shut.

“Well, Your Grace, and it seems I am to learn something today as well,” he chuckled. “My tutor as a boy only touched upon the early Andal kings.”

“The perks of service,” I chuckled back. He seemed to be in a good mood at least. He had been a little more open about his affection for my lady recently as well. Letters, dances and private conversations… Falena seemed to be pleased as well. It warmed my heart, actually. “But I admit to ulterior motives for seeking you out.”

He waited, his small smile still in place.

“My daughter’s punishment is soon to come to an end,” I said, and understanding spread across his face.

“She has improved with the blade greatly, Your Grace.” There was a curious look on his face that I had never seen before, eyes full of want. “It seems a waste to go back to before.”

I suppose that makes my job easier.

“Would you allow her to continue on as your squire in truth?” I asked and he grinned widely.

“Aye, it’d be my honour,” he replied, and tension I had not realised was present seemed to leave him as his shoulders slumped slightly. “She has been asking about it.”

“I rather thought she might have. The tourney in the Stormlands has given her a taste of what it is to be a squire without the punishment associated with it.” He nodded at that observation, eyes thoughtful.

“She has made mention to me of entering the next tourney we encounter a few times,” he murmured, scratching at his chin. “I fear I will have to make it clear to her that there may be some who will bar her from the melees.”

“Cowards, you mean. There is no rule that a woman can not compete, else we would not have the likes of Jonquil Darke.” Or Brienne of Tarth, if we went forward a bit.

“The matter still stands, though, especially since the next we are like to encounter will be in the Reach.” My brother’s stronghold. I could see a few of his banning her out of spite. “I will speak to her.”

“Then we should tell her now, give her something to work towards in the final weeks of her punishment.” He nodded his agreement at that and pushed open the door to reveal Aemon reading aloud this time. Next to him, Jocelyn sat with her eyes full of worry.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said and Aemon trailed off, glancing up at me and looking puzzled. Those confused, violet eyes were mirrored across all of the children, I realised. It was not often their lessons were interrupted.

“It is no problem, Your Grace,” said Leyla, rising to bow. I gave her a courteous nod in turn. 

“I have news for my daughter that I thought she ought to hear before she explodes.” Jocelyn’s confused gaze became worried again, although the worry seemed softened by my amused tone at least. “Ser Steffon?”

My white knight cleared his throat and I saw hope spark in her eyes. Then as he gave her a warm smile, a grin of her own broke out over her face and she began rising to her feet.

“Really?” she asked. The rest of the children exchanged glances of confusion. Not Aemon, though, his eyes never left me. I would have to check to see that something was not bothering him.

“Your mother has asked and I have-” She cut him off with a squeal of excitement and then impacted my stomach a moment later, sending me staggering.

“Jocelyn is a squire properly now, I think,” said Alys.

“Oh!” said Aemma, understanding in her eyes. She clambered to her feet, followed by Rhaena, and both charged over to my eldest. She separated from me and was immediately mobbed by the two young girls. Alys followed at a more sedate pace, a grin on her face.

“I mean, you're good enough that she was never going to say no,” she told her twin, only to be dragged into the group hug with a squawk of protest. At my questioning glance, Aemon got to his feet, still frowning. I gestured for him to step aside.

“What is wrong?” I asked in a low tone as the excited squealing grew in pitch.

“It’s nothing,” he lied before meeting my eyes and squirming. “I am happy for Jo.”

“Aemon.” The tone carried just a hint of warning and his gaze found his shoes.

“I just thought I would be a squire by now as well,” he admitted, ears going red.

“You are too young,” I told him. Strictly speaking, he was not. He fidgeted with his tunic for a moment, seemingly working up the courage to protest that.

“I am good with the blade for my age though, papa said so,” he insisted. Laenor… had said such a thing, I recalled. Then again, he had also followed it up with the statement ‘…when he bothers to show up’. He was still so young… only nine…

“Certainly, it might be time to increase your lessons,” I admitted, feeling as if wild horses were dragging the statement from my mouth. He glanced up at me, uncertain. “But I would ask you to wait in your squiring until we return home, after the procession. There, I will have my pick of knights able to train you, I don’t want to simply make do with what I have on hand.”

There were still tears in his eyes when he nodded and I felt as if I had just slapped him. Across the room, Steffon began dictating Jocelyn’s duties to her, and with every breathless agreement and promise that she would be the best squire he’d ever had, Aemon flinched as if she was physically striking him. I laid a hand on his shoulder.

“You are my heir, Aemon, but that doesn’t mean you need to rush everything. Enjoy your childhood, as I wish I had.” He nodded, mouth still set into a sullen slant and his features still sulky. Internally, I winced again. What could I do? Then the answer hit me, and I felt stupid for not remembering sooner.

“Still,” I said, making a show of thinking on it. “I do recall becoming my father’s cupbearer by your age.” 

“You were eight, mama,” he told me, hope in his tone.

“Was I?” I asked and he didn’t answer, suspecting that I already knew that quite well. “And you are nine now.”

“Yes, I am. I will be ten soon, though.” I wanted to laugh at his expression.

“Then would you like to serve as my cupbearer?” I asked. “To sit in my meetings, to attend to me at feasts and to learn how to be king at your mama’s feet?” 

His grin answered for him.

“Yes, mama,” he said. “Yes, please.”

“Then your duties shall begin the day we leave Sunspear,” I told him solemnly. “For now, let Jocelyn enjoy her new role first.”

His eyes went wide and he turned to his sister. Now that the excitement had died a little, our conference was receiving a few curious glances from the girls.

“Oh,” he said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have sulked. Not when Jo was so happy, I’m sorry, mama.”

“Go and congratulate her,” I told him, giving his shoulder a little push. He nodded and made his way over. The group soon devolved into happy laughs and squeals from the girls once more. Steffon met my gaze, eyes curious.

‘Jealousy’ I mouthed to him when I was sure the others were not watching me. His expression cleared and he gave me a half shrug in response.

“Come now, children!” called Leyla. “It is time to resume the lesson!”

The announcement received a few groans of protest that were silenced when I gave Alys and Rhaena a meaningful look.

“Come now,” the Septa said. “I am expecting your project on the Justmans to be done within the week, this is our final lesson on them.”

“I’m nearly done with mine,” said Aemon, smugly. Jocelyn gave him a light shove that Leyla immediately spotted.

“I shall leave you all to study then,” I said, before Leyla could open her mouth to scold Jocelyn. Leyla glanced at me half distracted, and nodded.

“Bye mama!” called Aemma as she scooped up the book they had been reading from.. The last thing I heard before the door swung shut on them all was Aemma’s sing-song voice once more. “Jocelyn, it’s your turn to read aloud.”


	217. Dorne - Chapter 188

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, this story will now be updated on Saturday instead of Sunday. I forgot to post the warning on the previous chapter, sorry about that!

“Your Grace.” I paused at the address and placed the goblet of juice down on the low table. Next to me, Joffrey squinted in suspicion at the servant that had called me. He bowed low in response to our questioning gazes. “Lady Mariah invites you to take a meal with her and Princess Aliandra.” 

“I see,” I said. This was awfully short notice. What would she say if I turned her down flat? I had been planning on getting my daily briefing from Joffrey over lunch, but if Mariah of all people was inviting me… curiosity won out over good sense. “Then you may inform her I shall attend to her within the hour.”

The servant nodded, bowed once more, and left swiftly.

“Are you sure that is wise?” asked Joffrey. “This reeks of a social ambush.”

“Without a doubt,” I replied. “But you have to admit to being curious as to why she is summoning me.”

“You could at least leave her waiting a little longer,” he mused. “To summon you on such short notice, you are aware she means that as an insult, aren’t you?”

“Well aware, thank you, Joffrey. I did not lose all of my social acumen overnight.” He shrugged at my dry retort and then smiled. I sensed that he wanted to impart more advice that he knew I was already aware of but was stopping himself. Barely. “Well, we have an hour to relax regardless.”

“Giving her time to prepare,” he said slyly.

“Prepare what? I hardly think she’ll kill me by appointment with her daughter present,” I laughed. That got him to laugh too. Perhaps I should not be so blase about the matter, perhaps my position was giving me unwarranted arrogance. Joffrey sipped at his own juice and sat back into his chair, smiling.

“In the meantime, what is this I hear about you taking Laena with you back to King’s Landing?” he asked. “Laenor is doing backflips over it.”

“If Laenor wishes to complain to me directly he may, but I won’t have a conversation with him through you,” I said tartly. Joffrey chuckled. “But you may inform him that I won’t be the one to break our agreement.”

“I will tell him,” he promised. Time passed quickly after that as we relaxed together, and it wasn’t long before I was led to Sunspear’s solar, two of my knights at my back. Mariah was inside, flanked by her two ladies; Sylvenna Ladybright and Moriah Dalt. Aliandra was there too, half way through some spicy looking dish that was accompanied by what looked like rice. Somehow, I did not think they had imported that from Dragonstone. Something to look into, perhaps.

“Good afternoon, your Grace,” said Mariah coolly, not bothering to rise from her position. I ignored the rudeness and seated myself next to my ward.

“Rhaenyra!” she said cheerfully. “Have you tasted this? It’s wonderful.”

Judging from the smell, it also had quite a bit of bite to it. My mouth watered even as I shook my head.

“Alas, I have not. It certainly smells delicious, though.” At my praise, she beamed again, scraping the last of the rice onto some bread.

“We can serve some at nightly meals, if Her Grace wishes,” interjected Mariah, voice sour.

“You have my thanks.” At my polite tone, she grimaced before seemingly rallying, forcing a polite smile onto her face. I wondered, suddenly, if this meeting might not be Aron Dayne’s brainchild, a push to soften his sister towards the woman who raised her daughter. “How has your trip been so far?”

Aliandra’s eyes brightened.

“Wonderful,” she said breathlessly. “Sunspear is beautiful, we visited the shadow city and some of the vineyards-”

She paused and then blushed a deep red. “The people cheered my name.”

“As well they should, you are their princess after all.” My words sent her face turning an even deeper red, even as Mariah looked as if she agreed, but hated the fact I had said it and not her. At least the other two were doing their best to appear absolutely engrossed in their own tea and not the small pissing contest Mariah had started. That eased my feelings on the matter somewhat. Those two were ladies in their own right, the fact that they seemed almost embarrassed by Mariah’s conduct boded well for me… or at least for Aliandra. Conversation lapsed for a moment as a second round of sweet smelling fruit tea was served and poured for us.

“How are you finding Dorne, Rhaenyra?” asked Aliandra after the servants had gone once more.

“It’s very beautiful, but very warm,” I told her and she laughed.

“Alyssa has done nothing but complain,” she giggled. “And Jo won’t, but I thought she might melt the other day.”

“Stubborn as her mother,” I murmured, making Aliandra giggle harder. “Aemma isn’t best pleased either, although I’m reliably informed Rhaena is having the time of her life. The less said about poor Rolph the better.”

“Rhaena is Lady Laena’s youngest and Rolph is heir to Castemere,” said Aliandra to her mother. Mariah frowned at my goodsister’s name and then forced a smile onto her face.

“She seems to have an excellent head on her shoulders,” Sylvenna interjected. “Tell me, Your Grace, will she ride a dragon like her brother?”

“We all hope so,” I replied easily. “But that is up to her in the end.”

“I’ve been on a dragon before,” said Aliandra. Mariah’s eyes went wide even as the attention of her two ladies fixed squarely on her daughter.

“Truly?” asked Moriah. “Which one?”

“Vermithor,” said Aliandra proudly.

“Oh?” I asked, taking a sip. She realised the implication a moment later and flushed. “Has my daughter been on joyrides?”

“Ah, no no no,” she said quickly. “Lady Laena was there, I swear it.”

At my amused snort, she eased up.

“What is this?” asked Mariah, tone bordering on slight panic. Aliandra laughed.

“Alyssa is being punished, she’s not allowed to ride unless Lady Laena says so.” That got amused titters from the two ladies.

“Children,” said Sylvenna fondly. I detected the hint of sadness there, though. “I remember Myles was quite the terror.”

“He still is,” piped up Aliandra. “He’s always running laps for playing pranks on the other squires.”

I kept my smile in place as Sylvenna spluttered in surprised laughter and even Mariah Martell gave her friend a broad grin.

“Vorian is much more polite,” Aliandra added, and Moriah gave her a pleased smile.

“Is he the boy that likes to pillage my kitchen for my favourite pastries?” I asked and Aliandra giggled, bringing her hands up to cover her smile, but nodded. 

“He doesn’t like them, though, he steals them to share in my room.” Then she caught my expression. “Don’t worry so much! I clean up the crumbs.”

“You don’t have servants for that?” snapped Mariah suddenly.

“I do,” Aliandra assured her mother. “But I’m allowed to keep people out of my room if I want because I’m old enough now.”

“Well… that is…” Mariah struggled for a moment.

“Mama,” said Aliandra gently. “I did ask for that.”

The woman stopped her straining for words and smiled at her daughter, eyes full of love and concern. I sipped my tea, trying to ease the tightness that had appeared behind my eyes.

“Well, perhaps we should tell Her Grace and the Princess the purpose of this little gathering!” suggested Moriah suddenly. Mariah swallowed, seemingly afraid to take her eyes off her daughter, and then nodded.

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Your Grace, but I did summon you here with ulterior motives, I am afraid.” I kept my polite smile in place as Aliandra directed a curious gaze her way. “Aliandra has been telling me about the Stormlands and all that happened there.”

“Mama!” protested Aliandra suddenly. Mariah waved a hand at her.

“I assign no blame to Her Grace,” she very obviously lied. “But the matter remains that those in the north are not fond of the Dornish, and that it has arrived to the point of being an unacceptable risk. Need I remind you just who is your heir?”

Aliandra froze and as much as I didn’t want to agree with her… well, she had Aliandra’s best interests at heart, anyway.

“I have knights to guard me, mama!” protested Aliandra, her wide eyes turning to me, beseeching.

“What do you suggest?” I asked after a moment. Mariah turned to regard me, lips pursed.

“A knight of her own, that she should command,” she replied. I knew from the moment she said it that it was not an idea she would give up on easily. Her eyes were too bright and her tone too firm. Instead of giving her the argument she so desperately wanted, I turned my gaze to Aliandra.

“What do you think of such an idea?” I asked. Aliandra glanced between her mother and I before straightening in her seat.

“A knight like Ser Steffon or Ser Erryk?” she asked, eyes curious.

“Indeed,” I told her before Mariah could answer.

“I have met the man,” said Moriah. “He is equal to any in Dorne in skill.”

“And he is polite, he will be no embarrassment to you,” added Sylvenna.

Curious as to how they were refusing to say his name… who could it be that they were being so cagey as to his identity?

“Perhaps she would benefit from meeting the knight in question first?” I suggested.

“Of course,” said Mariah before waving to a servant. The speed at which the man left told me this part had likely been planned as well. Just what was this woman’s game? Did she expect me to deny the knight? Such an assumption was not an impossibility, if Aliandra were the average hostage, I might even have done. But she was not, and so I would embrace this knight for her, if for no one else.

I was quite startled despite that silent promise to myself when a knight in Yronwood colours, the same I had seen in the yards during my ill-fated encounter with Myles Sand, stepped inside the room and bowed low, first to Aliandra and then to myself.

“Greetings, Your Grace, my Princess, I am Ser Gyles Yronwood. Should you accept my service, I pledge to serve you, Princess Aliandra, until the end of my days.” At his words, Aliandra gaped at him. We waited in silence as she seemed to process his presence before peering at her mother, then me, then her mother once more.

“He is… um… why?” Ah. My lessons on questioning motives coming to the fore, it would seem.

“I admit myself to being curious as to why a Yronwood knight would guard the Princess, given it is no secret Lord Yronwood is at odds with Sunspear.” At my words, Mariah and Sylvenna exchanged a glance I could not parse.

“Forgive me,” said Ser Gyles. “My brother and I, we do not speak. Our last words were ones of anger, ones that can not be taken back, I fear.”

“Perhaps you ought to tell our royal guests just what you said,” Moriah suggested, an amused smile in place. Ser Gyles flushed. “The whole of Dorne knows of your words.”

“As you well know, my brother’s heir is his eldest daughter, Ynys,” Gyles began. I vaguely recalled the girl. Like Allyria, she and Aliandra had been distant. Friendly, but not so close that she might as well live at the manse. “When my brother made noises that the Prince might be a better choice to rule Dorne, I asked him if that meant I was a better choice to rule Yronwood. Ynys was a girl at the time, only a year older than Aliandra.”

I just managed to not burst into startled laughter at that, instead scooping up my tea and taking a long sip to hide my amusement.

“My brother did not agree with me,” said Ser Gyles after a beat of silence. “He banished me from his lands. In truth, it was like to happen sooner rather than later. Our family was contentious before then.”

I wonder why?

“Well, if you are so invested in supporting my rights, I would happily accept you as my knight,” said Aliandra, looking decidedly more puzzled than amused. “Uh, if Rhaenyra says it’s okay?”

Gyles frowned but turned to me, eyes expectant.

“If you are willing to accept his service, and all that entails, then I have no argument.” At my words, the three ladies relaxed slightly. “But I would ask that he meet with Ser Steffon regularly though.”

“Rhaenyra’s Kingsguard,” said Aliandra when Gyles looked puzzled.

“I know of Ser Steffon,” said Gyles. “If Her Grace requires I meet with him, then meet with him I shall.”

“Ser Joffrey might also have information for you from time to time,” I added.

“Excellent!” said Mariah, before the conversation could derail into conversations about my security detail. “Shall we all have another cup of tea? I fear mine has gone cold.”


	218. Dorne - Chapter 189

It had been a long, long time since I had ridden Syrax for so long. As my duties and the demands on my time grew, Syrax’s time with me had suffered. Rhaenys had complained and so had Laena. I had assured them that my lessons with Jocelyn were enough and that over two decades of riding her would not vanish overnight, no matter their protests.

I was somewhat regretting that attitude now.

“I did warn you,” said Laena from where she was seated, watching me sinking into the warm water the servants had drawn up with a pained groan.

“In my defence, we spent two and a half days on them,” I protested, much more interested in soaking my sore and aching body than looking at her smug expression. “When would I ever have prepared for that?”

“If you rode more, you wouldn’t be suffering as much now,” she said primly. I closed my eyes and dunked my head under the water, drowning out the sound of her musical laughter. Oh, how I loved that laugh, even if I wasn’t in the mood to hear it right now. I emerged to find her watching me, violet eyes sparkling.

“Even the knights we brought with us did not complain half as much as you,” she said and then laughed again at my pout. “Very well, I give in. No more lectures. I do hope you’ll consider this a warning to ride more often in the future.”

“Perhaps I might,” I replied. “Perhaps we can involve the children.”

“Experience will do them good,” she murmured. “Aemon is coming along well, and even Alyssa is better than I would have given her credit for.”

I raised an eyebrow and she sighed.

“Don’t tell her I said that, her head may cease to fit through doorways.” At my grin she sighed back. “I admit that, perhaps, I judged her too harshly, but I still maintain you allowed her too much leeway.”

“But you’re fond of her,” I teased and she snorted.

“I was never not,” she said. “I just disliked her horrid behaviour and the fact you seemed to melt in the face of it.”

I tried not to wince. I still did, and it was probably a sign of Laena being diplomatic that she had not mentioned it. It was just whenever I brought myself to deliver harsh punishment, I saw that tiny sickly babe that would not have survived in any normal scenario all over again in my mind’s eye. I suppose Laena saw the girl that had nearly gotten her son killed- no, that was me being far too harsh. He had been given a good thrashing by two squires twice his size, but they had stopped well short of any permanent harm.

Was I excusing her again? I dunked my head beneath the water once more.

“Luke was certainly happy to see you,” I remarked when I emerged. She grinned.

“He was,” she replied. “Mother was too. According to her, Luke has been driving her crazy when it comes to riding Skywalker. Apparently, he and Jocelyn have some bet with each other.”

“Oh no,” I murmured as Laena paused and then waved her hand.

“I checked, it’s nothing that will get them into trouble,” she told me and I sighed in relief. Jocelyn and Luke were too aike in some ways, it always spelled trouble in the end. Then Laena added. “I’m taking him with me to Dragonstone.”

“Is that wise?” I asked before I could stop myself. Her eyebrow shot up and internally, I winced. “I just mean… you are going for your leg.”

“I will be there for a few days,” she replied, annoyance in her tone. “And I want to spend some time with my son.”

“I did not mean offence.” At that, she rolled her eyes but nodded. “He will be thrilled at the time spent with you. Forgive me, Laena, I spoke before thinking.”

“Unusual for you,” she said dryly. Now it was my turn to be slightly offended. She must have seen it on my face because she shook her head, suddenly smiling. “Why is it that time with you makes me forget I am a mother twice over? That I am a woman grown of four and thirty?”

“I am just that charming?” I suggested and she laughed, all annoyance leaving her features.

“Infuriating, perhaps,” she suggested, smiling widely. I matched that smile with one of my own until her grin became sly.

“It is a shame that you gave Laenor your oath,” she said, voice low. “I am tempted to join you right now.”

At my startled and slightly ungraceful choke on air, she laughed and rose to her feet.

“Enjoy your bath, Princess,” she called as she left, leaving me silently damning my husband for a moment. Then I began washing myself in earnest, the complaints my body had with me coming to the fore once more when I no longer had my lover nearby as a distraction.

I was mildly in awe at her stamina when she saddled up not long after I had settled back into the manse and headed for Dragonstone, Luke in tow, leaving me alone with Rhaenys and Corlys. We had not been here half a day and yet she intended to make Dragonstone before nightfall. I had given her a letter for Ser Vaemond, although I had little doubt that the man would bend over backwards for her. He had never gained whatever ambition had pushed him to try and claim Driftmark over Laena’s own children in the original timeline, and I would go so far as to say he truly loved both of his cousins, even if he was quite a bit older than them.

“Have you any news from the Keep, Corlys?” I asked as we settled down for a small private meal, not long after the two dragons bearing Laena and Luke had vanished over the horizon.

“Nothing new,” he sighed. “Tyland Lannister is as smug and arrogant as his brother, although I suspect he has considerably more brains. Bryndemere is shaping up to be a good man and Lord Gerold has quite firmly ensconced himself by Viserys’ side.”

I paused at that last tidbit.

“That is… surprising?” I said. Corlys snorted.

“Like as not they bond over strained family relationships,” Rhaenys put in. “He barely has two words to say to me, and Aemond left the capital with Daeron not long after you did. I would have thought he’d take the time to see Helaena, but she has been dodging him and he puts little effort into actually seeing her.”

“Dodging,” I said slowly. “That does not make sense. Why would she do that?”

“I know not. I offered the girl to go riding with me and Luke, but she refused. Ah… of course, you would not know. That egg she put in Rhaekar’s cradle has hatched.” I froze at that.

“When?” I asked.

“Not long after you left,” said Corlys. “I would have thought that Viserys would have made quite the performance of it, but he… has not.”

That, more than anything, spoke to father’s mental state. I placed my knife down, appetite suddenly gone as Rhaenys raised an eyebrow.

“I should go to the Keep,” I told them. “I should see him.”

Rhaenys’ eyes softened in understanding. That also spoke volumes. 

“I will accompany you up if you will stay long enough to finish your meal,” said Corlys after a moment. “I have work to do anyway.”

“He spends half his time in the Tower of the Hand these days. To say he does not live there…” Rhaenys trailed off, her teasing grin making Corlys roll his eyes in fond affection. “Perhaps I should find myself a younger man, one who does not spend all his days in dusty tomes.”

It was like watching my own parents flirt, I reflected, horrified, as Corlys threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

“You could not find a man as half as dashing as me, Princess,” he chuckled. “Nor half as pleasing.”

“I will go and prepare to leave, please find me when you are ready,” I said quickly, rising from my seat as Corlys began laughing once more. Although I was not sure if he was laughing at my mortification or Rhaenys’ blush. I did not stay to find out, darting from the room as speedily as my still aching legs would let me. My rooms in the manse seemed empty without my ladies or Laenor, without the children rushing in and out at every opportunity. In fact, this entire manse felt empty without them. How had we coped before?

It was not too much longer before Corlys arrived, amusement evident in his smile even after we retrieved horses from the stable and began making our way towards the Keep, my thighs still aching a bit in protest. It struck me that if there was a man that did not look his age, it was Lord Corlys. He had to be about Lyman’s age, although I would confess to not knowing, precisely, how old Lyman Beesbury was. Still, there could not be more than a few years difference, yet Lord Corlys could pass for a man in his early sixties at 74, whereas Lyman looked like a light breeze would be too much for him. 

My musing served as a passable distraction and it seemed Corlys had his own thoughts to keep him occupied, because we did not speak at all on our way up to the Keep. I should ask him what other news he had for me, after all, Joffrey could only tell me so much, yet the ache in my heart for leaving my father so soon after Alicent’s stunt and the realities of what that had done to him made it hard to focus. 

And Helaena too, I realised with a start as we reached the Keep. I had thought Aemond being by her side was enough, yet I had not even thought to check he would stay in the capital after I left. Now, she was alone. No brothers or sisters by her side, with a child that must be crawling by now and a newly hatched dragon to manage. The wounds of her mother leaving, of how Aegon had evidently come to his decision on the matter after months of horrendous behaviour from him…

“I should see Helaena too, whilst I am here,” I said aloud as I dismounted. 

“The girl has been sticking to her rooms,” said Corlys. That… could not bode well. I pushed down the guilt and walked on, feet taking me on the familiar route to my father’s rooms. Would he have heard of my arrival in the capital? Surely he would have seen Syrax and Vhagar’s arrival or at least been told of it.

“Rhaenyra.” The tone bore surprise. I turned and found father staring at me, as if he were not sure if his eyes deceived him or not. My heart ached to see him once I had time to take in the details. He’d lost weight again and there were dark bags under his eyes. Not a good look for a king, part of me mused, but that part was swiftly silenced by concern. A few moments later, I had wrapped my arms around him. He laughed, a genuinely happy sound as his arms came around me too.

“Do I look so bad, little fire?” he asked gently.

“I missed you,” I mumbled into his shoulder, dodging the question. I think he realised. From behind me, Corlys coughed.

“I should make my way to the Tower of the Hand,” he said gently, as I pulled back to study father once more. 

“Yes, thank you, Lord Corlys,” father replied, looking as distracted as I felt. Then, as Corlys’ footsteps echoed away, he smiled once more. He looked so happy to see me that guilt surged in my throat anew, feeling as if it were physically burning me. “I heard of your trip to the Stormlands.”

“It was not as smooth as I hoped, but I met many lords,” I told him. He nodded.

“I made my complaint to Borros. He has assured me that Lord Selmy has been dealt with.” I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. I knew enough of the Stormlands to know that it had been Elenda’s words that had reached father and that she would not be kind to the old man.

“I was assured similarly,” I replied. He smiled again and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “How have things been in the capital?”

“Well enough,” he replied. “My new councillors settle into their roles, and Corlys has proved an able replacement for Lyonel.”

It was not precisely the question I had been asking, but I think he knew that, and with him looking so fragile… I did not want to push.

“Corlys tells me Helaena has been indisposed?” I asked after the silence stretched between us for a moment too long. I was suddenly keenly aware we were stood in the corridor with no expectation of privacy.

“Yes,” he replied simply, smile fading. 

“Perhaps we could go to visit her together?” I suggested. “I had hoped to see Aemond too, but I’m told he has gone on adventures as well.”

“To the Riverlands,” said father, looking torn. “He spoke of happier times…”

Something told me mentioning Alicent would be the wrong way to go here. Instead, I raised my hand to his elbows and summoned a smile.

“He is growing into a man,” I told him. “A man with a dragon. Who can blame him for taking advantage of such?”

Father laughed but it was strained. 

“Come,” I said. “Let us visit Helaena.”

“I am not so sure-” he began, but I shook my head.

“I shall not let her sulking mean I miss a visit with my nephew.” He winced at my word choice but followed when I began heading towards the rooms she shared with Aegon… had once shared, I reflected. Would Aegon return to the capital? Or would he spend the rest of father’s time here moving up and down Westeros, his intentions clear to all… I would not let him. It would break father’s heart too much. Whether he liked it or not, he would be getting an absolute earful about it soon enough. I was finished with treading on eggshells about my brother in the vague hopes it would buy me mercy later should he prevail. It had only bred resentment and entitlement.

“Tell me about this hatchling?” I asked. Anything to break the silence. Was this how others felt when I began my brooding? I had the sudden urge to apologise to everyone that had ever had to deal with it. No wonder they had developed surefire methods for preventing me from doing so.

“Winter,” he said fondly. “He has quite the mischievous streak.”

I smiled at the amusement evident in his features.

“He matches his rider quite well in that? Have I told you about the small furor we had soon after you left?” He knew he had not and he forged on after I shook my head. “Helaena raised the alarm in quite the panic. For nearly half a day we searched for the boy only to find he had crawled into a small alcove in her room and fallen asleep.”

I tried not to laugh and utterly failed, father laughing along with me.

“A troublesome child. Perhaps this is penance for naming him for you,” he chuckled.

“Was I so troublesome?” I asked, giving him an exaggerated flutter of my eyes. He snorted in derision.

“If you were not running away from the maids, you were finding your way into places you should not be,” he replied, tone deadpan. “You were the most troublesome of all my children.”

Then he smiled softly and pulled me closer, awkward given we were still walking, but I managed not to trip over my own feet at least.

“Worth that trouble a thousand times over,” he said gently.

“I am so glad you think so,” I told him as we stepped into the corridor that Helaena’s rooms were located on. He laughed again but the tension was back. “Has she truly been avoiding you?”

“She blames me, I think,” he said sadly. “She and Alicent… they argued, but they love one another.”

I frowned at that. Surely she must know… but then the things your parents were capable of would always be hard to accept, visions of the future or not. That brought on another thought - was this about father at all? Could her dreams have changed again? I wanted to sigh at the aggravation of it all. I knew one future, I could not imagine the stress of knowing thousands.

“She will come around,” I promised, reaching up to yank the bell pull. Silence reigned for a moment and then the door was swung open by a smartly dressed manservant. 

“The Princess is not receiving visitors,” he said. “She asks politely that His Grace-”

He paused when he saw me, as if he had merely seen father and launched into some pre-prepared spiel. I raised an eyebrow and he all but squirmed on the spot.

“- Your Graces return at a time when the Princess is better disposed,” he finished lamely.

“Tell my sister she can dispose herself now or miss my only visit back for a long time,” I told him sternly.

“Rhaenyra,” said Viserys gently. “If she is not well, then she is not well.”

I ignored him, intent on staring down the very nervous looking servant.

“Well?” I asked. “Go and tell her.”

He disappeared. 

“Are you not being too harsh?” asked father, a smile playing around his lips, as if he couldn’t quite keep a straight face. I frowned.

“On whom?” He was saved from answering by the servant reappearing.

“Princess Helaena would happily see you if this is her only chance to do so but she is afraid she simply is not up to a visit from His Grace.” It was a good job Helaena was not in my sights when I felt father flinch next to me. Before I could retort to that, he placed a gentle hand on my arm.

“I will go,” he told me. “Pass on my best.”

He was putting a brave face on it but I could see the hurt there. One daughter chose her mother, the other withdrawing from him - I grit my teeth and forced myself to smile at him.

“I will stop by after seeing her,” I assured him. “Unless you have other plans?”

“Not at all,” he answered. “I would welcome the company.”

Watching him troop off down the corridor once more made my heart ache and anger burn in my breast. Whatever Helaena thought, father was not at fault for her mother’s actions.

“Right,” I said to the manservant. “Where is she?”

He led me into my sister’s home silently, as if he feared bringing my wrath down on his head by speaking at all. It had not changed much from when Aegon had also lived here. Still the same decorations, although I spied more than a few of the obviously martial ones had been removed. Helaena was in her sitting rooms and to her credit… she did look terrible. Her wan smile only cemented my thought that something was wrong.

“Rhaenyra,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Helaena,” I replied. She had not been sleeping, either, and her eyes were more bloodshot than not. When she gestured for me to sit, her hand shook with the effort and my anger vanished as quickly as it had come, the empty space it left behind filling with guilt and concern. “What is wrong?”

She blinked in surprise at the blunt question.

“Do I truly look so bad?” she asked, and I did not miss the rasp in her voice, one that spoke of recent tears shed.

“You certainly do not look well,” I replied, feeling like a bitch for so directly calling her out over her appearance. She laughed, but there was no joy in the sound.

“My dreams have been troubling me recently,” she lied. She was not a very good liar. I frowned and she winced. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“You always fidget with your sleeves when you lie,” I told her and she glanced down, looking surprised before blushing and then laughing again, but this time it was a lot more natural sounding.

“I do not,” she protested, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Then she seemed to remember something and her smile flickered again.

“What is it?” I asked. “What is keeping you from being happy, Helaena? Why are you avoiding father? Why are you working yourself into such a state?”

She sighed heavily, raising her hand to cover her eyes for a moment. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. I waited as she seemed to gather strength. When she did speak, it was if I had dragged her confession from her under threat of torture.

“I think… I think I am with child.”


	219. Dorne - 190

I had not taken the news very well, I reflected, as I left Helaena’s rooms with stern instructions that she sleep and actually look after herself. I knew that she had seen my feelings on my face, but part of me did not care, because it felt so much like it was a betrayal. Aegon had welcomed back his mother with arms wide open after a lifetime of dealing with the fallout of her behaviour, after a lifetime of me working endlessly to bridge the gap between us, and he had done it out of desire for a throne at my expense.

He knew what him claiming the Throne would do to this family. What it would do to my children, to myself. He just didn’t care. Perhaps I was being harsh, I did not believe he would condemn my children to death, but I believed he was arrogant enough to assume his guarantee of their survival was actually worth a damn, when there were men and women like his mother at his side prepared to remove any obstacle to his rule.

For her to sleep with him after all of that… it felt like a slap to the face. She had confessed in a quiet voice to me that after leaving the manse that day she had returned to find him waiting for her. They had spoken long into the night, he had gone on bended knee to apologise for his behaviour and his actions. Helaena had… given in. I swallowed the usual disgust that brought. Grief, she had said, almost begging me to understand her position.

Now Aegon would have another babe to offer about to allies. I shook my head as my feet took me on the familiar route to father’s rooms. I was being cynical again. I yet had Aemma and Viserys… but the part of me that was never quite silent countered with the knowledge that a third daughter with two brothers to boot was not a juicy prospect as the only daughter with only one, still very young brother ahead of her. I paused when I reached father’s door to take a deep breath. Ser Willis Fell watched me, eyes unimpressed, for all that his face was a mask of neutrality. I gave him a nod and then stepped inside.

Father was half dozing in front of the fire, head leaning on his hand as it lolled to one side, his curtains wide open to reveal the rapidly darkening sky. I smiled at the picture before I remembered the state he was in.

“Father,” I said softly and he jerked awake, peering at me before smiling hesitantly.

“You were faster than I thought,” he said. “Is she well?”

“Not really,” I replied. She had begged me not to tell him. After Alicent, Viserra, Aegon, Aemond, Daeron and myself had all left, he would be truly intolerable. I… sympathised with that more than she knew, but he would want answers eventually and withholding them would only hurt him more. In the end she had snapped at me, telling me to do as I wished, then, if the matter was so important.

“She took her mother leaving quite badly,” he said quietly. “I do wonder why she didn’t leave with them.”

“Her feelings for Alicent are more complicated than you realise,” I told him, sitting down on the chair opposite him and taking a moment to bask in the warmth of the fire. He knew that, of course, this was just another way to castigate himself. I peered about his rooms, I had not been in these quarters in a long time. Not since he had married Alicent. A great deal had changed, and yet I could still pick out things unchanged. It brought a sudden sting to my eyes and I blinked the thought away.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked, tone morose. Everything and nothing, I answered in my mind. I could not say it aloud, though, and so I waited in silence. Finally, he seemed to wrangle some of his thoughts into order. “Enough of this dire mood, you come home for a visit and all I do is sulk.”

“It’s nice to be back,” I said and he smiled. “Dorne is nice enough, but it is not home.”

“How is Dorne?” he asked and I recognised the tone as one that spoke of business. I leaned back in the chair.

“Quiet for now,” I finally said after some deliberation. “They seem to have a positive impression of Aliandra, and Aron Dayne is as competent as we suspected. My visit home does concern some issues there however.”

“Oh?” he asked, looking curious. “What issues?”

“Our investment plan proceeds well, yet I am concerned about the amount of involvement we still have in day-to-day affairs there,” I began. “I do wonder if perhaps it is not time to begin withdrawing our direct oversight and watching to see where the pieces land.”

He looked thoughtful at that and I added. “Whilst we still have a governor to step in and ensure our interests are represented.”

“I did not intend to remove Gwayne the moment Princess Aliandra gains her majority,” admitted father. “We have time yet.”

“Gwayne doesn’t,” I said dryly and father winced slightly. “Do not misunderstand me, this is not about Alicent or court factions. The man is dangerously close to losing it. Have him begin the transition period now and ensure the estate you have in line for him is a generous one.”

Father stroked his moustache thoughtfully. Somehow, it did not surprise me that throughout everything, that damnable piece of facial hair was meticulously groomed and completely intact.

“He has made considerable progress,” father admitted, earning himself a raised eyebrow. “Come now, no one expected the Dornish to align with us straight away. Too many remember the taste of freedom for that, but he has standardised most everything we needed him to do. If they want to keep paying through the nose for their smallfolk or letting the eldest regardless of their sex inherit, then they may do so.”

“Letting the eldest inherit,” I murmured and he chuckled.

“I am aware how that sounds, yes.” Still, I was not inheriting because I was the eldest, and he knew I knew it. I was inheriting because I was the only child he had whose mother had not slept with his younger brother. I did not envy my father’s childhood. I could not see the Baelon I remembered being a bad father, but…

Daemon was everything Viserys wasn’t, good and bad. Yet until Spicetown, Westeros had only seen the good. To be compared constantly to him. Why could he not be as good with a blade as his brother? Why could he not be as charming as his brother? Then there was Rhaenys… Rhaenys who rode her dragon as if she had been born on it. As if it were Jocelyn Baratheon that had taken her child on dragonback when she had been days old. Why could he not ride like Rhaenys did? No wonder he had gone so far as to mount Balerion.

“I will speak with Lyman,” father said suddenly. “I will see what he thinks on the matter.”

“Thank you, father,” I replied and he nodded happily. It was the best I could do, I sensed. Pushing it now would get me nowhere, and he may even delay speaking with Lyman, or refuse too altogether, if I got him angry enough. “There is something else as well.”

“Oh?” he asked, smile playing about his face. “You have that tone in your voice, daughter.”

“What tone?” I asked, frowning and he laughed softly.

“The tone that says you wish for something you are not sure I’ll grant but intend to flatter me into it anyway.” He couldn’t quite stop his chuckles as he told me that. I flushed, which made the matter worse. “Ask for your boon, Rhaenyra.”

“It regards one of the hostages here,” I told him, aware I was still blushing and feeling slightly grumpy about it. “Valena Vaith.”

“Ah, yes. I recall the girl,” he said. “What about her?”

“I wish to return her to her mother.” At that, his amusement was replaced by surprise.

“You wish to release a hostage?” he asked, as if he weren’t sure he had heard me all that well.

“Just one,” I replied. He opened his mouth, likely to deny me, and I cut him off with a waved hand. “Hear my reasons, father, please. I ask not as the Princess of Westeros but as your daughter and a mother myself. Lady Casella sent us her daughter in good faith, although it grieved her deeply to be parted from her. She took solace in a younger daughter, perhaps unwisely in retrospect.”

“Unwisely,” said father slowly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“She allowed the girl freedoms that most would consider excessive,” I told him, feeling very uncharitable at the assessment. “She died, father. She died after falling from her horse, racing her peers. Her last hours were spent in pain, begging to see her mother and older sister one more time.”

He froze, likely recalling another who had died in a similar way. Viserra’s death had been quick and sudden, but it had broken Alysanne just a little bit more.

“I am sorry, father, if you think that I have a woman’s heart. That you think the Dornish sold me some story and that I have taken the bait, but I want to see that girl home to her mother more than anything in the world.” As I finished, he stood and knelt before me, raising a hand to my cheek. It was warm, and I realised that I had let a tear or two fall as I had made my case.

When had I become so invested in seeing this girl home?

“Never apologise for kindness,” he told me, much to my surprise. “My father told me that. I will tell you this. I hope you will teach it to your son in turn. Never apologise for kindness. Aye, Rhaenyra, I shall release the Vaith girl.”

“Thank you,” I said and he drew me close for a moment. What memory had I unearthed that he had agreed so quickly? That he should be so emotional? “Thank you, father.”

He stayed where he was for a few more seconds as I luxuriated in his embrace, feeling oddly grief stricken when he pulled away. He tried to hide it but I could see he was a little misty eyed himself.

“I will have to speak with the Small Council, of course, we must concoct some reason for her return that will not open the door to a thousand other requests,” he told me after he had composed himself.

“Of course, father,” I replied, pressure behind my own eyes dying a little too.

“Will you take her back yourself?” he asked. “Your escort could surely fit on Vhagar’s back, after all.”

“That…” I paused. “I will ask the girl. I do not know how she will react to flight. Many find it unsettling.”

“It would make quite the sight though.” He was back to stroking his moustache. Outside, dusk had faded into inky blackness. “You return with Vhagar bearing a lost daughter…”

“Which will be ruined if her first action is to immediately vomit,” I reminded him and he laughed loudly.

“Point taken, little fire,” he all but giggled. “Ask her and I will ensure the Council comes up with an explanation by the time you depart.”

I spent a few more hours with him, chatting about things of little consequence until my body finally grew weary of my mistreatment of it and drove me back to the manse with aching pangs. Corlys had not returned before me either, although I did not wait up for him, merely falling into bed and letting sleep quickly take me. In fact, my next few days were spent quite similarly. I would awaken, ride with Rhaenys, accompany Corlys to the Keep and sit in on the Council meetings, before having a meal with Helaena and then accompanying father for the rest of the afternoon and evening. It was refreshing in its simplicity, little to no worry I would somehow start a war or offend someone who would trigger a mass exodus of allies…

Laena returned after four days, a rambunctious and very happy Luke trailing behind her, with the news her leg was fine and that she could begin light sparring once more, providing she rested frequently and stopped immediately at any pain that felt out of place. She had even brought a letter signed by my former Maester to present to me, as if she were a schoolchild I suspected was using a feigned illness to skip school.

I nearly broke my oath to Laenor after seeing that mischievous smile. The end of our brief stop home came quickly, though, and it felt like far too soon that I was mounting Syrax once more, Valena Vaith clinging to me as if I were her only way of staying on Syrax’s back. With a roar that had inspired dread in millions since the Conquest, Vhagar launched herself into the air. 

Syrax answered it with one of her own and followed.


	220. Dorne - Chapter 191

Entering Dorne on dragon back in full riding gear was not as hellish as I thought it’d be. As far up as we were, the air was cool enough that we weren’t half dying. Landing was a different matter entirely. My feet were barely secure on the ground before I began divesting myself of the thicker garments that were required for any kind of air travel. Valena, Laena and our guards followed suit even as my children rushed forward. They barely hid their puzzled glances and confusion at Valena’s presence. Although in all fairness, Valena barely seemed to know what she was supposed to do either.

“Where is Lord Dayne?” I asked Laenor, voice not as low as hoped as the children moved on to swarming their aunt. Or welcoming Valena, in Alyssa’s case. I should not be surprised my daughter knew the girl well. Laenor glanced at me, confused.

“We barely had time to make it out here ourselves,” he said after a moment. “We received no word of your coming until earlier today when the Tor sent word of you stopping there. Lord Dayne and Aliandra are in the Shadow City, we sent runners but…”

I stared at him in horror, then glanced beyond him.

“I expected a welcoming committee,” I murmured. “I have brought Valena home to her mother…”

Another thought struck me and I felt the colour drain from my face. I had hoped for an immediate reunion, something the lords of Dorne could see. If Meria was gone, it would be more rumour than a solid showing.

“Please tell me she’s still in the castle?” At my horror, Laenor waved a reassuring hand.

“Lady Meria has not left to my knowledge,” he assured me quickly.

“Your Grace!” I was saved from further reflecting on what a disaster this was becoming by Aron Dayne, Aliandra and her mother making good time in our direction. I could barely keep my grin from my face as Aliandra almost sprinted ahead of him to reach me first.

“Rhaenyra! We didn’t know you were coming back so soon!” She looked slightly worried, as if I would ever rage and rant about what was evidently an accident.

“Fear not, Aliandra, I take no offence. The raven likely got lost on the way.” She grinned at me and then paused, peering at her friend who was waiting by Alyssa’s side, smiling.

“Val!” she cried and flung herself into the girl's arms. “What are you doing here? Did you come here on Syrax!?”

“The second Dornish woman to ride a dragon,” laughed Valena from somewhere in Aliandra’s shoulder. Aliandra pulled back and grinned. “It is quite the experience, I admit.”

“You could have ridden Vermithor,” said Alyssa, smiling broadly.

“Much to my shame, I was too afraid then,” said Valena, not looking particularly ashamed at all. “I shall be sure to inform Myles he must take his turn next.”

That made Aliandra and Alyssa giggle in unison and I hid a smile in my sleeve as Aron Dayne reached us and bowed low, his gaze following my own and widening when he saw whom I had brought.

“You, send a runner to fetch Meria Vaith,” he barked and a servant took off. Mariah alternated between peering at me, her daughter and her brother as if she were not quite sure she believed what was occurring. 

“I hear the raven has gotten lost,” I told him, hoping to soothe whatever fears he may have about such a breach in protocol. Both his and his sister’s features darkened, making me frown and step away from the excited children and closer to the adults. Laenor came with me, resting a hand on my elbow. “What is it?”

“Casella left in the early hours of this morning,” muttered Mariah. “Without word or warning as to why.”

“If she knew of whom you brought with you, she would know her chance to bring Vaith and Gargelen to her side was through,” finished Aron. Mariah nodded, eyes now on her daughter’s back.

“You must speak with your maester,” said Laenor, making my eyebrows rise in surprise. I admit that had been my first suspicion but to vocalise such... “We know well how they can be. They claim to serve the castle, but the maesters recognise no masters but themselves in the end. If you threaten that, they will strike at you.”

“We trust the man with our lives.” Mariah’s murmur was horrified, her eyes distant, but Aron was furious, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

“We will know how Casella did it,” he swore. “I am not ready to discount her having a man nearby with a bow quite yet, though. Come, I have a daughter of Dorne to welcome home and a mother to reunite her with.”

I nodded, hanging back and letting Laenor wind his arms about my shoulders as Aron stepped past us and towards his niece.

“Welcome home, Valena Vaith,” he said, prompting Aliandra to back off. “Your mother will be overjoyed.”

At the reminder, she seemed pleased, and then her face flickered with pain momentarily.

“I just wish Erena was here as well,” she whispered. “I would stay in King’s Landing for the rest of my life if Erena could-”

She choked and Aliandra did not hesitate to let her burrow her head into her shoulder. Aron gave her a sad look and I would admit to struggling with tears myself, a pressure behind my eyes. Losing a sister… The idea conjured up Helaena once more, how sad and ill she’d looked and how my judgement, my barely disguised anger, had made her shrink further.

“We all wish that,” said Aron Dayne sadly. “She was a bright girl, a devoted daughter and sister.”

“My apologies, Lord Dayne,” said Valena after a few moments. Dayne smiled.

“This is not the court of the King on the Iron Throne, young one,” he said kindly. “You will not be mocked for your grief here.”

She should not be mocked in my father’s court either, but I had the sinking feeling she had been. Next to her, Aliandra shot me a troubled glance. I had made it clear she was under my protection, but I had done precious little else to shield the other denizens of Little Dorne from the cruelty and realities of court. Another failure. There was a distressing amount of those being made apparent to me these days.

“It’s good you arrived when you did,” said Aliandra a moment later, clearly looking to at least try and lighten the mood. “Allyria is due to leave tomorrow and she will want more friends to see her off.”

Valena looked puzzled by that, but happily accepted the invitation. Of course, I realised a moment later. When Aliandra and Allyria had left King’s Landing, they had been friendly but distant… Valena must be wondering what had happened to make them so close. I’m sure that Aliandra would tell her of the Stormlands, but the real reason why brought guilt surging to my breast again. 

Thankfully, I was not given much time to brood on it because Meria Vaith appeared in the distance and Valena’s eyes went wide. Aliandra helped her rearrange her dress to appear more presentable as Aron Dayne smiled, as if anticipating the sweetness of their reunion.

I found myself smiling as well, for some bizarre reason. She looked puzzled as she approached, as if she were not quite certain why she above all others had been summoned to greet the Princess of Dragonstone. That bemused puzzlement was overriding the usual annoyance that creased her eyes when I was in her direct vicinity, at least. Aron Dayne motioned for me to step forth and I did, Laenor still at my back, an indulgent smile on his own face now he knew what was to occur.

“Lady Meria, you have my apologies for summoning you without warning,” Lord Aron said smoothly once she was in range.

“I live to serve my Princess and her regent,” she replied quickly, glancing at me and then at whatever Aliandra was fussing with, half hidden by Syrax’s bulk from where she was standing. “And Her Grace, of course.”

The addition was hasty and unconvincing. Aron tried to hide his smile and failed, which only further served to confuse the woman.

“Meria,” said Mariah gently, stepping forward to take Meria’s arms. “Forgive my brother his games, he is overly giddy due to the news that Princess Rhaenyra has brought us.”

“Am I to guess what such news could be?” she asked dryly. Mariah smiled and then nodded at me, and I was surprised to see the look of happiness and amusement in her eyes was genuine.

“My father and I spoke much about Dorne on my return,” I told her. “Of Gwayne and of the hostage situation.”

Meria nodded, and I could already see a small spark of hope breaking over her face.

“My daughter,” she said quietly, and I could see her hands were trembling. “Will you bring her home? I could not… I would be in your debt.”

“You would not be,” I replied. “I am a mother, as you are. Upon hearing of the situation, how could I not intercede on your behalf?”

Her eyes flickered closed, doing little to stop a few tears escaping. Her shuddering breath of relief had her entire body tremble. We stayed like that in silence for a moment and I wondered if we were not cruel to drag it out this way. Finally, she spoke again.

“When will she be home?” she asked. Mariah’s smile became broader as I gestured to Syrax’s bulk and to Aliandra. Meria froze, looking as if she dared not believe what I was implying. “Valena!”

At her call, Valena froze and it took Aliandra almost dragging her into her mother’s sight to get her feet moving once more. The poor girl looked half terrified… Once again, I wondered if this spectacle Aron and I had spontaneously conjured was not cruel, if we should not have let Valena rush to her mother with open arms…

And then I realised that would not have happened anyway. Was she like Aliandra? Did she fear her mother would reject her for not being Dornish enough? Just how many others feared that? It was something to talk to Aron about, to ensure they could be reassured without the embarrassment that would go with saying it out loud to them. My thoughts refused to continue down that route as Valena’s brain finally got over its fear and she flung herself forward with a low sob.

Meria pulled her close, looking as if she barely believed her daughter was home and in her arms once more. As if she believed that even the slight breeze could cause her to vanish.

“Mother,” whispered Valena, so quietly that I was not sure I even heard correctly. Behind me, I heard Laenor sniffle and began fumbling with my sleeves to find my handkerchief, only to realise a moment later that I would need it for myself. Mariah was in a similar state and I wanted to weep even more when Aliandra went to her side, eyes still on the reunion in front of us. I jumped when Aemma, Alyssa and Jocelyn wound themselves into my skirts, looking misty eyes themselves. Aemon stayed by Laena, grinning widely.

“You are home,” said Meria finally, pulling back to study her daughter. “You are home and I could not-”

She paused and then pulled Valena close once more, burying her face in her daughter's hair. I peered at my own daughters, tried to imagine losing them as this woman had, and found the idea too painful to consider in any depth. To have their freedom to be reliant entirely on someone else’s whim… I peered across at Mariah, who had her hands wrapped tightly around Aliandra’s shoulders.

“Thank you, my lord,” said Meria finally, eyes on Aron Dayne. “I could say those words a thousand times and it would not be enough.”

“T’was not I that spoke for you. I told your story, nothing more,” said Aron, tone full of modesty. Meria turned to me and half bowed, seemingly very reluctant to take her eyes from her daughter still. “Still, I think it is time we headed inside and out of this sun.”

The trip was somewhat awkward with so many children wound close to me and so many aches and pains making themselves known once more, but somehow we made it. It was gratifying to see I was not alone at least, in clutching my children so close.


	221. Dorne - Chapter 192

The next morning found all of us, squirming and bored children included, gathering in the feasting hall, not for any grand celebration but for Aliandra and my children’s emotional goodbye to Allyria Toland. Our time in Dorne was rapidly coming to an end and the girl had put off leaving us for as long as she could, I sensed, but it was time for her to return to Ghost Hill at last. 

“I expect letters too,” said Alys, smiling despite her imperious tone. Allyria snorted and mock-cuffed her about the head, sending her fussing over her ringlets as Jocelyn snickered at her sister’s discomfort.

“You will write, won’t you, Al?” murmured Aliandra, stepping forward again as she drew the girl in for yet another embrace. Allyria chuckled and let the younger girl cuddle close.

“I have sworn to four times now.” Aliandra blushed at the reminder. “I will write whenever I am able. Whilst I have no doubt my brother has proved an able administrator in my absence, Ghost Hill will need its mistress in the coming months.”

She followed that statement up with a smug glance at her brother. His lack of reaction told me she had not been wrong in her suspicions that as it stood, Ghost Hill belonged to Myles Sand. 

“Thank you, sweet sister,” he said, smiling. “I have no doubt you will prove worthy of it.”

The smile they both exchanged then was more bared teeth than genuine affection. When had he decided his siblings were an acceptable price for his lordship? When had he decided to kill them to fulfil his ambitions?

“And you are welcome to visit, Valena,” said Allyria a moment later.

“Thank you for the kind offer,” replied the girl, still looking more than a little bemused at the dynamic between her friend and Allyria. “I shall try and persuade my mother to let me. If I am lucky, she may allow me out of her sight by the time I am three and thirty.”

That got a few laughs in response as Meria Vaith nudged her daughter, unable to keep the annoyed look on her face for long before she too smiled in amusement. Allyria herself seemed to find it rather funny as well, laughing away before busying herself with her gloves as Aliandra stepped back towards our party. It seemed Valena was taking to her as Aliandra had. Another ploy? Another route into Sunspear when Aliandra achieved her majority?

Or was it genuine affection?

“The men we have provided you await you in the stables, my lady,” said Aron Dayne when it became apparent that Aliandra was finally finished with her goodbyes to his niece. Allyria nodded and I was impressed by her acting skills once again. We had accounted for that, of course. Aron was smart enough to reason that we might have turned someone in Little Dorne and the Lady of Ghost Hill was a prize target, especially as she made no secret that she did not blame the massacre on Laena. 

Allyria would arrive at Ghost Hill after playing up her loyalty to Aliandra over everything on the way. She had orders to involve her guard in the struggle with her brother’s men. I had no doubt they would oblige her, Myles was the bigger threat, after all. It would also work to allay some suspicion, a spy would hardly request that men almost certainly trained to ferret out secrets stay longer. Then, once they were gone and the most obvious of Myles’ influence removed, Joffrey’s man already at Ghost Hill would begin liaising with Allyria. 

Eventually, Joffrey’s man would send her men under the guise of mercenaries after a false attack on her, and our little foothold in Dorne would be complete. At the cost of Aliandra’s good will should it ever be discovered, of course.

“Thank you, Lord Dayne,” Allyria was saying as Laenor’s light shove roused me from my brooding. “Although I sorely wish I did not need them.”

“The roads are safe this close to Sunspear, but complacency is never warranted,” said Aron, and Allyria nodded in agreement.

“I must also thank you for the fine steed, it seems.” She may have been speaking to Aron, but it was Aliandra’s hand that immediately flew to her hair as she blushed. I started to wonder if the girl might not have a bit of a crush on Allyria. After all, had I not been a similar age when I had met Laena for the first time? And followed her about like a lost puppy, in awe of the impossibly beautiful older girl? I smiled at the memory and refrained from peering at her. I had been a gangly thing then, all legs and arms, despite father swearing until he was blue in the face that despite my figure, I still showed all the signs of the beauty I would grow into.

The memory was sweet one, even though dread and fear gnawed at its edges. I refused to let them truly taint it.

“My niece’s gift to you,” replied Aron, tone indulgent. 

“Thank you, Princess Aliandra.” There was an odd hitch to her tone when she used the more formal address. Aliandra looked puzzled until Allyria stepped forward and caught her hands, murmured in a low tone to her. “You are my princess. The only one I will serve. The only one I will fight for. I trust you to lead Dorne and should you ever need me, call and I shall come.”

Aliandra did not seem to know what to do with that, her eyes almost misty at the vow. I did not miss the pride on Aron Dayne’s face though. No doubt he was thrilled at the allegiance Aliandra had earned from her compatriots in Little Dorne. The next generation of lords and ladies had almost all been raised alongside her, almost all were neutral if not outright friendly… no wonder Garin’s supporters feared her rise to power. Time worked against them, their own heirs had been subverted.

“Thank you, Al,” Aliandra murmured back after a moment and a nudge from her mother. “I… thank you. I hope I never need you in that manner.”

“I do too, my princess.” Then she stepped back once more and bowed low to both Aliandra and her regent. “I will leave now. I thank you both for the hospitality and kindness you have shown me.”

“Good bye, sister,” said Myles a moment later. I nearly jumped out of my skin, having forgotten his presence in the crowd.

“Good bye, brother. I hope King’s Landing treats you as well as it has me.” I wasn’t sure if that was a threat or not and judging by the looks on faces of others, neither were they. “And-”

She paused then, turning her eyes to the small crowd again before she picked someone out, her eyes seemingly at war with herself for a moment. Laena stepped by me, looking hesitant and hopeful in equal measure. I watched as Aron Dayne frowned and Mariah Martell’s eyes widened in shock. Surprised murmurings told me that among the Dornish, none had seen this coming.

“Lady Laena,” said Allyria, tone soft. “I wanted to thank you. For everything you have done for me. There are many here that would see you as responsible for what happened to my home, to my family… but I do not. I have never done. I remember that day so clearly-”

She paused then, seemingly overcome and I was forced to admit that if this were an act, she was better at all this than even I was.

“You do not need to-” Laena started but Allyria cut her off with a waved hand as she struggled to keep from weeping.

“I do,” she finally said. “You saved my life, you avenged my father’s murder, you did all you could to save my brother. So I, Allyria Toland, Lady of Ghost Hill, thank you.”

Laena nodded, her jaw clenched tight until I feared she might shatter her own teeth.

“Good luck,” Laena finally choked out and Allyria smiled and nodded. She left then, two knights in Martell colours falling in at her side. Myles watched her go, eyes full of anger and hate. He would view that little bit of theatre as a betrayal. He had spent so long shouting from the rooftops that Laena had murdered his family and then Allyria had contradicted him before nearly every lord and lady in Dorne. He knew well he had no friends present, he knew well that flying into a rage would only serve to harm his cause… so he watched her go and he seethed.

I wondered if Casella had bothered informing him of her and Lord Gascoyne’s flight or whether they had not rated him as worth it?

Finding out just what he was to Garin’s supporters would be a priority. If he was a useful fool to them, he could be safely discarded once he was cut off from them in the capital. If he was considered an actual asset, one worthy of being considered an actual conspirator… He would warrant an entirely different strategy to deal with him. I waited until Allyria was out of sight and for Aliandra to control herself, to fight the tears that threatened, before I stepped forward towards the Martell party and Aron Dayne. There was a new type of tension in the air now. I doubted there was a man or woman here who did not know the deal that had been struck surrounding the Tolands.

Aron Dayne’s smile showed entirely too much teeth.

“My apologies for doing this so soon after Allyria’s goodbyes.” Aliandra looked puzzled at the sudden formality until my eyes flickered to Myles Sand, who waited patiently, suspecting what was next. Her eyes widened as she remembered.

“I understand, Princess Rhaenyra. Myles Sand has been a leal vassal and any delay in his reward would be an injustice.” Perhaps she was overdoing it a little. Aron and Mariah certainly thought so, if the look they shared meant what I thought it did.

“Thank you, Princess Rhaenyra,” said Aron Dayne, shooting his niece a Look. I handed him the papers my father had signed before I had even left for Dorne, Targaryen seal clear to all. The first bastard to be legitimised by King Viserys in Dorne. “There will be a proper ceremony later, I assure you, but as my niece said, you deserve to receive your reward as soon as we are able to give it to you.”

That sounded like a threat.

Myles nodded, his eyes not leaving those papers. He took them with shaking hands when Aron handed them to him, eyeing them as if he still had not figured out how to feel towards them. Part of me pitied him. He had to know that had Bulwer failed, his father would never have given him his name. That no matter what he had done or what he had achieved, he never would have been named Toland. An estate perhaps, a wife from a minor family with her own name. Looked after, but never truly acknowledged.

That part was vanishingly small though. If Allyria was right, he had murdered his own brother for this. Or at least, he had arranged said murder. He had taken advantage of a tragedy and made it worse. He would kill Allyria if he had the chance and likely still believed he was going to. Bandits on the road, perhaps? A fall from her horse? A brazen knife in the dark? Poison in her nightly drink?

Joffrey was confident Allyria would be fine, but the memories of our discussion, of the arrangements he had made with a fifteen year old girl to ensure her elder brother did not kill her, snuffed out what little pity I had for him as quickly as it had come. Myles knelt, papers still clutched tightly in his fist.

“I can not thank you enough, my princess, my lord,” he murmured. “I have waited for this for a long time… to think-” He paused and Aron took control of the conversation once more.

“The ship that will take you to King’s Landing will set off tomorrow with the tide,” he told him, voice stern. There was a note to his voice that told me that Myles would be on it or he would be dead. I believed that. Myles had made too much of a target of himself. His domain of influence was too close to Sunspear for Aron Dayne to want anything to do with him.

“In the meantime,” said Aliandra, sending my eyebrows rising. “I decree that there should be a feast to celebrate!”

That got a cheer from the assembled men and women. I did not miss the proud smile Mariah gave her daughter, nor the look she directed back at her mother, the one that was searching for approval. Something ugly burned in my breast as I applauded along with the rest, something that demanded I confront Mariah, take back the young woman I had raised as my own. Laenor caught my eye, brow raised in question.

I was not sure I liked that part of myself, and so I forced it down and did not meet Laenor’s eyes again.


	222. Interlude - Mariah

Today’s celebration was an odd one, she reflected, watching her daughter flit about the hall, arm in arm with Valena Vaith. Tension was everywhere you looked, and how could it not be when dragons walked among them? How could it not be when the pride of Dorne was insulted with every moment they tolerated them within their halls? She drummed her fingers on the table, feeling the usual rage that touched her whenever her thoughts strayed too close to the princess.

She had stolen her babe, her Aliandra, from her. Raised her as if she was her own, as if her babe was a baby dragon and not the Sun of Dorne itself. Aron expected her to stay calm, to thank the Seven that Aliandra had been raised well…

Could she ever forgive him for bowing to the dragon king’s pressure? She barely remembered the days after he had handed her beautiful babe to Targaryen knights…

“Riah,” murmured Syl, eyes wide with concern. “You are drifting again. Remember what the maester said?”

How she hated that pity. Hated that she knew it would be reflected in her own eyes again and again, hated that Dorne was a nation of mothers without children-

“Mariah.” The tone was stern now.

“I am sorry,” she whispered back and Syl’s eyes softened. Syl felt just as Mariah did. Mothers without children. Syl’s hand clasped hers beneath the table. “I beg your pardon.”

“No begging needed,” she replied, tone still gentle and low. “Take deep breaths now, we went over this with the maester, remember?”

That brought new fears. Curse that woman.

“I can barely bring myself to… you know what they said about him.” At her worry, Syl looked unimpressed.

“Your brother has had the man questioned, had his quarters searched and will have him watched from here on out. Aron believes he is loyal to Sunspear. Think little of clever lies, they seek only to divide our people.” Her words made sense and yet-

“Did one not nearly kill her?” she asked, hating the fresh pity in Syl’s eyes again. “Did one not kill Arabella Tyrell?”

“Hightower plots. The Iron Throne’s business,” said Syl firmly. “Put it from your mind, Riah. Our maesters are loyal, we would know if they were not.”

“Someone told Casella,” she whined. Why could Syl not see her worry? Her fear? All her insistence brought was more pity. She hated it.

“Not a maester,” said Syl. “We know they have spie-”

“Not in Sunspear, perhaps, but why does he say there was never any raven until the one from the Tor?” Syl frowned at that and she could tell her patience was wearing thin. Moriah was usually the one who stayed by her side during these times, but Moriah had been called back to Lemonwood to deal with her brother once more. Frustration followed that realisation and she stood, disentangling herself from Syl’s grasp.

“Mariah,” she said sternly. “Do not do something foolish.”

She looked at her daughter again. The Targaryen girl had joined them now, the one with silver hair that looked so eerily like the Butcher even as young as she was… she peered about, easily spotting Meria Vaith watching the three like a vulture.

A land of mothers without children. Her feet moved almost without her input. She knew her destination but part of her screamed to not do so, that Aron would be furious, Syl even more so. Moriah would just be disappointed… but she was not a child, subject to their rules. She was a woman grown.

“May I speak with you, Princess Rhaenyra?” Had her tone been too harsh? She had earned herself nothing but frowns from the princess’s compatriots. In the corner of her eye, she noted Gyles Yronwood’s sudden frantic look.

“If you wish,” said the princess, after a moment of deliberation. There was a guarded look in her eye, as if she expected the outburst Aron feared. Had her brother warned her? No, no Aron would not. He would not.

“My lady, perhaps I could escort you-” She cut the knight off.

“No, Gyles,” she said firmly and part of her took satisfaction in the panic that was now visible to all. The white knight sensed it as well, nodding for the knight in black and red that had moved to follow to back off as he himself took over the duty. That grated. Still, she could hardly demand the woman leave behind her protection.

“He seems to be worried,” remarked the princess as they stepped away, heading for the exit of the feast.

“He frets,” she half snapped back before taking a deep breath. Perhaps she should recall the Maester’s advice, perhaps she should remember his years of apparent loyalty… but she needed to know…

Dorne in the dusk was cool, so cool that she half wished she had remembered to pick up her shawl. Yet the feasting hall had been warm, and she had discarded it to dance with Morgan Jordayne when he had asked.

“What did you wish to speak to me about?” asked the princess, once they had found somewhere quiet. So many things, was the answer. Aliandra, court, the maester, the princess herself, Aliandra… the questions welled up inside her until she could barely speak. She was aware, suddenly, of how foolish this had been. Of how the white knight’s gaze was fixed on her back, ready to react should she draw a knife, how those guarded but curious violet eyes seemed to burn into her-

“Perhaps we should sit?” said the princess, guarded eyes becoming pitying ones.

“I can stand,” she snapped. “I am not the child my brother thinks of me.”

“Speaking as an older sibling,” said the princess sadly, “our younger siblings will always be children in our eyes.”

She swallowed. She had not expected that. That sadness… but of course, she would grieve for siblings that had turned against her. Just as Qoren would grieve if he knew what Garin had become. She realised then that she had expected this dragon to be a greedy monster, uncaring of others. The knowledge she was not was like a slap to the face.

“Then I may think of forgiving him yet,” she mumbled finally. The princess smiled at that, a slight quirk of her lips. “I… wanted to ask…”

What did she want to ask? All the things she wanted to say but could not suddenly would not come to her lips.

“My brother says we should thank you and your father,” she finally said when it appeared the princess would urge her to speak again. That earned her a raised eyebrow. “For your intercession, for bringing the Vaith girl home. He says you did it for Aliandra and for Meria. Why? If you pity Meria Vaith so, why take Aliandra from me when I too had nothing?”

Pity. Just like Syl’s pity. Pain too.

“Losing a child is my worst fear,” said the princess then. “I know that with the troubles the Throne is having, it is oh so easy that I could lose one. Two, even. Believe me, it was no easy choice.”

“But you still made it,” she rasped and the princess nodded.

“I did,” she replied, drawing herself a little straighter. “I made it because for all that I hated that our invasion happened, I knew letting Dorne go once more would have been far worse.”

“Dorne should be free,” she replied then. “Unbent, unbowed, unbroken. Your Aegon had no right to take this land and your Viserys had no right to take this land.”

“We could argue that to the death,” replied the princess. “You do not truly wish to debate Aegon’s Conquest with me, do you?”

“No,” she replied, the princess’s tone making her angry. Haughty, arrogant - do as I say for you are beneath me. Deep breaths, just like the Maester says. What to say? What would her pride allow her to say? “I wanted… Aliandra, she… I miss her so much when she is gone. When I am with her… I never know what to say, what to do? Do you understand that? You took my daughter from me. How can I be her mother when you so ably fill that role?”

She hated the whine in her voice. Hated that it was this woman she should tell all of this to. She had been princess of Dorne once, wife to the greatest prince since Nymor, and here she was, grovelling at a dragon’s feet for any shred of knowledge of her daughter. A disgrace.

“As much as I wish I was, I am not Aliandra’s mother. She knows that,” said the princess sadly. Grief. Somehow, that made her feel better. Did Aliandra make that clear? “I love her as if she were my own, and I will never be able to let that go, but she is your daughter. She speaks endlessly of you after your visits.”

She laughed then and was startled to find tears streaming down her face. When had she started weeping like a child in front of this woman, this enemy of hers? Was everything Aron and Syl and Moriah thought about her true?

“She knows her true mother.” She felt guilty when the woman flinched. Shame followed that. “I want her back home. To rule, as she was born to do.”

“When she reaches her majority, that is what will happen,” said the princess. She could see the fortress being rebuilt, the pain in the woman’s eyes being replaced by that guarded look again, and some sliver of panic slipped through her. If she became cool once more… She needed to know! “Was this all-”

“The maester.” The words came quickly, almost panicked, and the princess blinked, looking at her oddly. 

“I do not follow?” Puzzled was better than guarded.

“Your maester was not a traitor.” It was hard to formulate what she wanted to say. “Might ours be the same? Fooled by masters with motives aside from his own?”

“Possibly,” said the princess, hands coming up to run through her hair as she thought. “The raven is the key, of course. If you can find out why it did not arrive, you will know the truth.”

“That does not help,” she replied. “For all we know, it perished on the way.”

“Possible,” admitted the princess, looking doubtful. “It is a rare enough occurrence, though.”

“Or Casella could have had men posted,” she insisted. The princess peered at her, puzzled look back in place.

“I’m sure your brother is investigating all of those theories presently.” The princess’s tone was cool, her features carefully bland, and Mariah recognised a dismissal in them. It was enough to make her blood boil once more. Then her features cleared and she laughed softly. That annoyed her even more.

“What is it?” she demanded. She would not be made a fool of, made a mockery of, in her own home-

“Forgive me,” said the princess, genuine mirth shining in her eyes. “Your face just now reminded me so much of Aliandra for a moment… tell me, did she ever tell you of the time my daughter threw our cat out of a window?”

The change of subject made her head spin and it took a moment or two of her mouth being open like some village fool for her to gather her wits and speak again.

“What does this have to do with Aliandra?” she asked, annoyance still bubbling beneath her skin despite the confusion. Was this some trick? Some turn in the conversation to ensure she would not revisit the matter of the maester? The princess gestured to a nearby stone bench and she sat, still trying to puzzle out the trick. Behind her, she was aware of the white knight coughing as if he were trying not to laugh.

“Aliandra was the one that saw the whole thing and let me tell you, she gave Jocelyn quite the speaking to.” The princess paused then and her smile became soft, her eyes became soft… a mother, not a dragon. This had to be a trick, no? “My daughter did not mean it, of course. The damnable thing put a claw through her lip and she reacted by throwing it. She was nine, so I would ask for some forgiveness on her part. The open window was unfortunate. Aliandra…. When she is angry, she looks more like you than ever.”

That comment, more than anything, saw her relax as the princess launched into a more thorough explanation of the whole matter. When Gyles and Aron found them later, she wanted to laugh at her brother’s startled expression. He had been convinced she would cause a scene, cause some sort of incident, especially if left alone. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she would have done, but… She would never like the princess, but she could respect her.


	223. The Reach - Chapter 193

“Mama,” began Aemon, half frightening me from my staring. I turned to him, the by-now familiar sound of the sea and Laenor’s sailors in the background. “Could I have a lesson with Ser Steffon?”

He had been sulking slightly since we had left Dorne. I had announced to all that he was my cupbearer now, but I think he had expected some immediate and grand change. I wasn’t having many meetings on the ship, so he had been disappointed. It didn’t help that Jocelyn’s lessons seemed as in-depth as ever. I wasn’t sure if he was truly jealous or just… I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

“Your father is teaching you for now,” I told him. “Although if you wish, I will speak with Ser Steffon.”

He smiled at that, before looking out to the coastline I had been gazing at. Dorne’s coastlines were beautiful. I wasn’t sure why that surprised me, but they were. Luscious greenery, orchards and vineyards, white buildings dotted here and there.

“Dorne is beautiful,” he said after a moment, tone almost tentative. “Have you spoken to Ali?”

I pursed my lips. I had tried to speak with Aliandra, but she had not been receptive. The only person capable of rousing her from her despair was Alys, and my daughter had taken to doing so like it was some sacred duty. Aemon watched my face carefully, head tilting slightly in curiosity.

“I was thinking,” he said when I failed to reply. Too busy brooding. “I painted a lot in Sunspear. I thought I might give her a pick of them?”

Why did that not surprise me?

“That’s why you’ll be a good king,” I told him, recalling the conversation I’d had with father during my brief visit back. “Kindness.”

Aemon blushed and glanced at his shoes, but he looked pleased regardless. 

“Kindness is how you win friends and the loyalty of those around you. Fear… fear can be overcome and fuel hatred in turn. Look to Maegor for that.” At my lecture, he glanced up again.

“Uncle Joffrey has only touched on his rule,” he said cautiously. 

“I know. Maegor is not… you need to be older to fully appreciate the horrors he inflicted.” Aemon nodded thoughtfully at that and I reached out to smooth some non-existent flaw in his hair. Unlike Jocelyn, Alys or Aemma, he let me do so without complaint. His ears were red, though, and I found myself smiling at the whole matter. 

“He told me about King Jaehaerys, though!” he piped up when he was evidently bored of my grinning like a maniac at the Dornish coastline. It was a testament to my sudden good mood that my smile didn’t even flicker. “Uncle Joffrey says you didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t,” I replied. “The man was… arrogant. People credited him with too much when it was the work of others instead. Do you know who Rego Draz was?”

Aemon’s mouth opened then closed and he frowned, face a mask of puzzlement. After a few painful minutes of silence, his gaze found his shoes again and he shook his head.

“Sorry, mama. The name… I have heard it?” I smiled at his hopeful look as he raised his head to peer at me.

“You have. Allow me to lecture you a little longer?” At my question, he beamed, obviously pleased, and nodded. “If only everyone was so eager to hear me talk.”

He giggled.

“Very well. Maegor left the Iron throne in shambles, as you well know. There was a boy king on the Throne, the previous king had all but bankrupted the realm, many regions were on the verge of outright rebellion, he had very credible threats to his claim, the greatest dragons of that era lacked riders, to say nothing of the religious tensions still rife or even of the fanatics still loose and playing bandit. By the time Jaehaerys was twenty, Westeros was a different place. A strong king, a strong treasury, loyalty abounded and religious tensions soothed.” 

“He rode to the Starry Sept, he was merciful and kind,” Aemon told me, eyes shining. “He forgave the good people who had fought against his uncle, he forgave the good people that followed his uncle’s commands, and he punished the bad people!”

“He had a talented regent,” I answered, a bit sharply, and Aemon’s face flickered into confusion. “Do not get me wrong, Jaehaerys was, I am forced to admit, a clever man and… a good king.”

Ugh.

“Yet his true strength was taking good advice, not allowing arrogance to blind him, extending this open mind to all, be they smallfolk or noble in blood.” Aemon looked thoughtful. “And yes, he was kind and just and brave.”

Aemon grinned at me brightly and I realised I had managed to forget something.

“Ah! I do believe I’m late for my daily walk with your brother. Do you wish to join me?” He winced at the offer and I struggled not to smile again.

“Thank you, mama!” he chirruped. “But I am going to find Rolph!”

“Be careful!” I called as he took off across the deck. Really, now. You’d think they’d at least like Viserys a little more. He was a quiet child, the opposite of Jocelyn, really. Eager to smile and babble happily. I made my way across the deck, smiling at the thought of my golden haired boy when a maid exploded from the hatch into the mid afternoon air and made a beeline for me, her eyes wide. I frowned.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

“Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness but… your son’s egg… Septa Leyla swore she would stay with him, I thought I should take him away-” I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

“The egg is hatching?” I asked, barely able to repress the sudden excitement that brought. She nodded, looking apprehensive. “You did nothing wrong, the dragon is no danger to my boy. Take the afternoon to relax.”

I would have to find some sort of bonus for her, I thought, as I made my way to my son’s cabin. I didn’t run, no matter how excited I was. If I ran, it’d start a panic… and wasn’t that a depressing thought. A brisk walk felt like it took too long before I was pushing open the door carefully, finding Septa Leyla holding my son on her lap in the corner of the cabin as a familiar egg was half split on the floor. 

The hatchling had gotten its head and wings out at least, but it appeared to be having some trouble extracting the rest of itself. I let out a slow breath, attracting Leyla’s attention, fright in her eyes before she recognised me and bowed her head. My son did not notice me, he was gazing in wonder at his dragon, even as it began kicking and scrabbling. I stepped inside the room and it froze, peering at me, head moving ever so slightly this way and that.

“Bring him a little closer, if you can,” I instructed Leyla. “And you, Ser Denys, fetch my husband. He will want to see this.”

The knight in Targaryen livery hesitated and then bowed, vanishing from my back. I felt oh so very naked without the reassuring presence, but it took a back seat to watching Leyla stand and carry Viserys closer. His dragon, his hatchling… I realised then with sudden shock that it would not be long before my youngest would be walking. I watched in quiet awe as he extended a chubby hand and waved at the pale pink dragon.

I wanted to clutch my heart and die at the scene. The sudden rush of emotions had tears pricking at my eyes and I felt very much like a fool as the hatchling finally escaped from its shell. Fell out would be a more accurate description, actually. Leyla looked to me again.

“Wait until Laenor has arrived then set him down, would you?” At my instruction, she nodded. It would need a name, I mused as it began curiously sniffing at its surroundings, head snaking back and forth, occasionally bumping fragments of egg about.

“What is it? The knight said it was-” Laenor stopped in the doorway behind me and let out a gasp of wonder and delight. Leyla set our son down gently and we watched together as he stretched out. The hatchling paused and then crept closer, ever so cautious and careful. It drew back, startled, when its snout brushed Viserys’ outstretched hand, and my son made to grab at it. Viserys let out an annoyed warble at that, nearly unbalancing himself in the process.

“Our son has a dragon,” whispered Laenor. I glanced at him, as hard as it was to take my eyes off of my son, and found he had tears in his eyes. Of course, Seasmoke had hatched for him. Had he wished that for his children? For them to know their mounts as they grew? Jocelyn had Morrigan but Alyssa, Aemon and Aemma had not. I suppose it meant less danger later as well… no haring about the Dragonmont or the Dragonpit for a suitably pretty one. Instead, my son had Raspberry Ripple. It would grow with him, learn alongside him…

“I… uh, I came up with some names. If it hatched,” Laenor finally said. “I had been thinking of what we could… Mother helped, you see.”

He blushed and I smiled. Rhaenys seemed rather intent on not having another ‘foolishly’ named dragon it would seem.

“He is your son as much as he is mine,” I told him and he smiled, pleased. “Besides, I named most of them. Including Morrigan.”

“We can wait,” said Laenor. “He will not need a name for the early stages anyway.”

“Mama? Papa? What is- oh! Oh! Ali! Come see! Come see!” We both turned to find a rather rumpled looking Alys in the doorway, staring at the addition in wonder. A rather sulky looking Aliandra appeared at her shoulder a moment later, eyes going wide.

“A baby one?” she said, and I realised she’d not seen one so young before. I stepped into Laenor’s arms to give them a better view, Alys prodding Aliandra forward with an indulgent look on her face. “Is it dangerous? Will it breathe fire?”

Viserys giggled and I noted it had snapped at the egg, failing to crunch it between its jaws.

“They don’t breathe fire for ages,” said Alys reassuringly. “Go closer, I promise it will be fine.”

Aliandra did, shuffling the entire way. The hatchling turned to them as Viserys seemingly realised other people had arrived too. He gave us all a happy wave and then pointed proudly to his dragon. I smiled as Laenor moved from my side to sit next to him, offering a finger to be clutched at. His movement startled the hatchling, sending it scrabbling backwards. Leyla moved back to her corner and settled back into her chair.

“Are all dragons so… uh…?” Aliandra paused, looking for the right word as it took another bite at its hated enemy, its own egg. 

“Silly?” I asked, making her blush and Alys laugh softly. “At least this one is not as destructive as Skywalker. I lost some perfectly good bedding in that fiasco.”

“You were there when Skywalker hatched?” asked Alys curiously.

“She saw the whole thing. Laena missed it,” Laenor laughed as he lifted his son onto his knee, much to Viserys’ delight. “So were you, technically.”

“I will tell you the story sometime,” I promised as she looked puzzled at that particular statement. Aliandra crouched down, peering at the hatchling as it watched us all. We were likely scaring it, I realised. Surrounded by beings strange and so much bigger… The thought derailed as Aliandra held out her pinky finger and brushed it down the hatchling’s back, sending its wings flapping in surprise. After a moment, it seemed to decide it actually didn’t mind and shuffled ever so slightly closer. Viserys clapped happily as she began petting it in earnest, a soft smile on her face.

Laenor shuffled a little closer and soon Viserys’ chubby hand joined Aliandra’s finger and the dragon seemed to give in and surrender to the attention. I met Alys’ eyes and motioned to the door. She stepped away, unnoticed by the three enraptured by the dragon.

“How is she?” I asked and Alys shrugged.

“She’s coping. Her mama left her a letter to open when she gets really down but she hasn’t opened it yet.” Hmmm. This was the first I had heard of such a letter. “I wanted her to take a walk on the deck but a dragon works too.”

I smiled and drew her close for a hug.

“I’m proud of you. You are a good friend to her.” Alys stayed silent at that, looking thoughtful. “Well done.”

We watched as the dragon rolled over onto its back, encouraging its two new best friends to rub its belly. I raised an eyebrow at my daughter, who likely knew more about the creatures than I did these days, and she laughed softly before whispering. “You know, Jocelyn is going to be angry if she’s the last one to know about a new hatchling.”


	224. The Reach - Chapter 194

Blackcrown was not the best place to resupply the ship, but not even I was foolish enough to march into Oldtown, the heart of Hightower influence. The home of the Bulwers would do, and even then most of us stayed onboard with only Joffrey, Laenor and a group of men disembarking. The decision had not been… popular…

“But mama, you promised us a lesson on the dragons!” whined Rhaena. It was not even directed at me, and yet it still put my teeth on edge. Next to her, Aemma nodded along in agreement. Finding her time alone was still annoyingly difficult and came with being locked out of my room for a few hours after breakfast every day, but she had been better, at least. No more snapping at Alys over the many grievances, perceived or true, that she had, thankfully.

“We are resupplying,” said Laena, and I could feel her cautious glance. I grit my teeth and stared resolutely out at the town we had docked at, fingers aching slightly as they curled around the taffrail, the slight scraping sensation that I so disliked as the prosthetic failed to curl, failed to respond. “Very well, gather your cousins. We shall have a lesson.”

“Really?” said Rhaena, sounding surprised. 

“Yes, really. Although it entirely depends on if you can get Ali to surrender that hatchling that has so taken to her.” Rhaena giggled, and despite the annoyance and grief bubbling beneath my skin, I smiled too. It was a sure bet the spoiled thing would be with her if it was not in my son’s room, my ward set for watching for signs of its development. Not a strenuous job considering it would not be a true danger to its surroundings for a while yet. It kept her happy though. I could get behind that.

“Thank you, mama!” The sound of her feet hitting the deck as she charged off saw my smile die a little. Laena moving to stand next to me once more reminded me of why I had been so angry in the first place.

“I think I’d be furious too,” said Laena after a moment, as if she were reading my mind. “But-”

“But what?!” I asked, finally. “She… she’s just gone running back…”

“No, she is informing her husband she is with child. She needs to. Especially if she is as far along as she claims.” I frowned at that. The sight of her dragon circling the High Tower in the distance… I had forgotten about that detail.

“She did not look… too pregnant when I saw her.” Then again, I’d hardly been paying attention to her stomach. I’d been looking at her face and how ill she had looked, and after that I had been stewing in my own anger at the betrayal of it all. I let my head drop onto my hands with an aggravated sigh and Laena dropped a comforting hand to my shoulder, drawing circles there with her fingers.

“At least we can be sure she’s getting the best possible care,” joked Laena after a moment or two of silence. I tilted my head to glare at her and she chuckled. There was little chance of her getting one of my midwives into Oldtown, but it was as Laena said. The Maesters would not let any harm come to her. Nobody would want to risk that particular disaster. I looked back out at Blackcrown, thoughts a jumbled mess.

“Mama! Everyone is here! Even Ali!” Laena sighed quietly before patting me on the back and turning around. I peered over my shoulder and found seven hopeful looking faces staring at us both, my ward included. I had to smile again when I saw she was cradling the pink hatchling in her hands, one finger scratching it on its head. The hatchling didn’t seem to care she was not its rider, as long as she could keep that up forever.

Alys caught my eyes and gave me a thumbs up from where Aliandra couldn’t see her and I struggled not to laugh. It was a very modern gesture. I was quite sure I had only done it a few times and yet… well. I turned my gaze back to Blackcrown as Laena began herding them to the back of the ship, loudly exclaiming that today’s lesson would be on the lifecycle of dragons. Unless Rhaena wanted to tell them the identity of her desired dragon, of course.

I myself was beginning to suspect-

“Your Grace!” called a voice and I frowned, turning to find one of the knights Laenor had taken into town. “Ser Joffrey requests your presence. He says it is urgent and-”

I waved a hand and stood up, pushing off of the taffrail before holding out said hand for the man’s dark cloak. 

“Where?” I asked as he handed it over without protest. 

“A tavern within the docks, the Water Bull, Your Grace.” I wrapped the cloak about myself and set off, striding rather than running. Two of Laenor’s men were quick to fall in behind me rather than my usual knight. They were rough looking fellows, though, capable of handling any trouble that the docks or taverns may bring. I also had no doubt Joffrey would have his own guards in place within the tavern itself. What on earth could he want me for, though? That thought pushed me on more than anything. Joffrey knew what was important and what wasn’t.

The Water Bull was everything you generally imagine about seedy taverns and more. A man I recognised as Joffrey’s waved me through to the back where my spymaster sat, his face pale in the gloom. I took one glance at him as I sat down. It was enough for my heart to drop into my stomach. For it to pound in fear. Anything that could scare him so… did not bode well for me. I watched me as I shifted in my seat, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. Finally, he slid a piece of paper from the many messages in front of him over to me.

I skimmed through it. Then stopped, skin going ice cold. Hands shaking… I swallowed and went back to read it in full, a kind of dread opening in my stomach. As if by not reading it, it would make the contents go away. As if by not reading it, the news contained within wasn’t true.

_Prince Daemon Targaryen arrived in Volantis on dragonback, with no sign of his compatriot, over a year ago now. He would not speak of where he had been nor to his plans for the future. His kin within the House of the Dragon welcomed him with open arms. The daughters and granddaughters of Saera Targaryen were generous indeed. It wasn’t long before the House ceased selling its services to the highest bidder. Within months, the Prince was holding court there. Many strange fellows came and went, from Magisters and merchants to priests and slaves._

_It was not long before the Old Blood heard of him behind their Black Walls. At first, it was a slave messenger sent to him. An invitation for him and his dragon to join them behind the Walls. That he would be made a rich man, that he would never want or need again. The Prince mocked their offers and sent their slave back to them without hands or eyes, the paper the offer had come on jammed down his throat._

_Next they sent some pampered Magister, borne on a litter by no less than ten slaves. Witnesses say the man was wider than he was tall. Many speculated that he would not be able to stand if he tried. Rumour says he offered the Prince the wealth of Old Valyria, their noble daughters for his own use, the guarantee that his children would rule Volantis. The Prince took his head and threw the corpse to the commons and the slaves who tore it to pieces in a frenzy of hatred._

_Volantis became tense. Full of unrest. The Prince began to gather followers. Men and women of low birth, slaves of all ages, and even priests of the Red Temple. He began to preach to them from the House of the Dragon. He spoke harsh words against the Old Blood. He challenged them. He boasted that he had killed one of their number, sullied his body and sullied his blood in the manner of death and disposal. He demanded an answer from the Old Blood. _

_The Old Blood answered. After months of seething anger at the Prince, they sent their soldiers to him. An army not seen in centuries. These were no mere slaves given weapons and told to die that marched from the Black Walls. These were born from the fires of Old Valyria, made in the image of their legions and sworn to protect the Old Blood and Volantis. _

_All those who followed the Prince broke and ran before them. Not a single blade was bloodied as they reached the House of the Dragon. The Prince appeared before them to the sound of war horns, blade in hand. What happened next, I can not explain. The men drove forward and the Prince killed any his blade could reach. Those watching wept, for surely he could not overcome the thousands the Old Blood had sent before him. Yet scarce a squad had fallen before they stopped their assault. Before they threw down their blades and shields and knelt before him._

_Two women appeared then. I know not their names, save for one was a priestess within the Red Temple and the other a granddaughter of Saera Targaryen. The granddaughter lowered a crown of ruby and dragon steel onto his brow and proclaimed him King Daemon, the first of his name and the rightful ruler of Westeros. The priestess called, unnaturally loud, upon him to return to his homeland. She spoke of great evil, a great other, that lurked there. She called upon him to prove himself worthy of his crown, to strike it down and destroy it._

_The Prince, King now, swore that he would. As he held his blade aloft, as it caught the noon sun, it was set ablaze. The priestess declared him ‘Azor Ahai’ and all those watching fell to their knees in worship. He proclaimed the Old Blood corrupt and that slavery could no longer be borne. He ordered all those not soldiers to sack the city, to free any slave and to kill any master. To kill any who did not see the truth of who he was and the importance of his task._

_The city fell to rioting, the streets ran red with the blood of master and slave alike. The King took his newly loyal soldiers to the Black Walls and commanded his dragon to lay them to waste. He ordered his soldiers to capture and bring him their former masters to prove their loyalty to him and his cause. They did so without complaint. No rumour has emerged of just what the King’s actions were after that fact save for that a day later he held court once more, within the Black Walls themselves. Tens of thousands gathered, waiting for his command, for their next task. _

_He had the captured members of the Old Blood brought out before him. He spoke condemnations of them once more, striking them as if they were little more than slaves. He then told the people before him that Aegon had conquered Westeros with three dragons and two sisters. He lamented he had no sisters but spoke of a son, a son in Westeros that had been taken from him. One that he would take back upon his arrival. Yet one dragon in Westeros and his own Caraxes would not be enough. As he spoke, another dragon descended. Black as night yet not as large, not as fierce, as his own._

_A young girl, no more than ten, dismounted and knelt before him. He proclaimed her his daughter and his heir, Baela Targaryen. The crowd cheered her name and the King gave some kind of signal as she rose to stand by his side. Horns sounded and the two stood there for a moment, surrounded by their dragons and facing down the crowd cheering their names, before the soldiers moved forward and began slaughtering their captives._

_What happened next still brings bile to my throat, even the memories still make me shiver. The dragons let out twin howls of pain. The air was filled with the snapping and cracking of their limbs as whatever magic the King had cast took hold of them. I could smell nothing but the blood. The horns sounded again until they were all I could hear as the dragons grew in size. The mount of the girl, which I have learnt is called Maegon, grew the most. I fear it may challenge even ancient Vhagar now._

_The King declared that his target was Westeros but that during his time in exile, he had seen too much of our depravity to allow it to go unaddressed. He bid everyone to strike against slavery wherever they found it. I know he sent men, led by a trusted general, to Slaver’s Bay. Yet the main body of his army, his legion, have taken control of the Volantis Fleet. They intend to take Lys. They intend to bring peace to the Disputed Lands._

“This sounds like…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, bile burning in my gut.

“Fiction.” I glanced at him as he fumbled with his papers a little more, handing me what looked like a scrap. “It is. As far as I can tell. This is a report from that same spy, dated back to when we first began getting reports he’d moved from Slaver’s Bay into Volantis proper.”

_D hiding within the house of the dragon for months on end, holding court like a king. Triarchs summoned him many times, would not step beyond the Black Walls. Unrest in the city. Slaves speaking of superstitions, fights and scuffles. Related?_

Surely this was not the work of the same person? Joffrey smiled and I realised I’d spoken aloud. He still looked pale and even the smile he’d summoned at him and me coming to the same conclusion was weak. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing, trying to think beyond the desperate thumping of my heart. Almost unbidden, my hand found the prosthetic, curling around it. Cool, even with the glove in the way.

My hands were still shaking.

“What are we going to do?” I murmured. “This is… this is far beyond what we thought we were dealing with.”

Joffrey said nothing, his gaze on the paper again, as if the words would change. I opened my eyes and stared, fear drowning out every other emotion. If even half of that letter was true… I closed my eyes again.

“We need Laenor and Laena,” I decided finally, proud my voice did not shake. “I know not what we can do, but Laenor is our General and Laena our Mage. This is their wheelhouse.”


	225. The Reach - Chapter 195

Our journey back to the ship was done separately and unhurried. There was no point in tipping any of the Bulwer spies off to the urgency of what we had learnt. Aegon would have to be told, I had little doubt about that, but for now, we needed time to plan. Fortunately, Laena had finished with her impromptu lesson and Laenor knew from the moment he saw my face that nothing else could take priority. I left Sera in charge of the children with strict instructions we were only to be disturbed in the gravest of emergencies.

Sera had agreed, likely also recognising the look on my face. Laenor left his Captain Allard to finish resupplying us and we ensconced ourselves in Laena and Joffrey’s room with the door locked, Ser Steffon in the corner and two of his knights posted outside. Wordlessly, the paper was handed over to the siblings and we sat in silence as they read. It was impossible not to study them, not to note the reaction. The way Laenor switched his grip on the paper as if he feared he would tear it in his fury, the way his eyes tightened in anger and the small smile he’d managed to maintain despite our gloom died, replaced by a frown I had not seen since Jocelyn had scared him so.

Laena was another matter entirely. From the first word she read, her body went still. No movement. Her face bore no emotion but her eyes were cold and full of hatred. Hatred like I had never seen before. Finally, Laenor placed the paper down, steepling his fingers over it as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Laena remained staring at the words, even obscured as they were by her brother’s hands.

“It’s a trap,” said Laenor finally, eyes opening. Wordlessly, Joffrey slid the second report to him. 

“That is a report from the same man, dated months earlier,” I told him when he looked puzzled. I could see the calculation in his eyes, adding this to what he knew.

“Then this is Daemon’s work,” he concluded. As if the confirmation were all she needed, Laena reached out and slid the letter from under his fingers, her eyes flicking back and forth across the page. I swallowed. Her silence did not bode well.

“I believe so,” said Joffrey finally. 

“He is capable of rooting out our spies,” I said, voice ragged and rasping again. Laena did not so much as twitch as she studied the page. Laenor and Joffrey turned to me. “He has an army comprised of both professional soldiers and…” I trailed off for a few seconds, unsure of how to phrase it properly, before focusing again. “In any case, we can not let Lys fall to him.”

“We can not call our banners and fight him there,” said Laenor, leaning forward to meet my eyes. I wanted to laugh. Had he forgotten Spicetown? Bloodstone? Had he forgotten how dangerous Daemon was? How in that other world, Daemon had been his death? He spoke quickly, before I could start. “Think, Rhaenyra. He has learned much in his exile.”

I stopped, mouth opening. What did he…? Fear made it hard to think, had always made it hard to think when it came to Daemon. Yet had I not beaten him last time by stopping and actually planning? I took a deep shuddering breath and focused on my advisers. My husband, my lover, my friend - we were united in this.

“It is a trap,” I said after a moment. Laenor nodded, reaching across to brush a thumb over my hand.

“He is turning your own tactic against you,” he said. “He wants you angry, rushing him. He wants you scared - this letter is practically hand designed to get some kind of response from you.”

“So we can not immediately move against him,” I realised, frowning. “But that does not mean Lys must be left alone to face him.”

“No,” said Joffrey. “I have men there, in Myr and Tyrosh too. We can work to ensure their alliance is renewed.”

“We can send ships to them as well,” said Laenor. “We have a few older ones that we can afford to officially decommission, plus I can provisionally promise gold for mercenaries if father also agrees.”

“Father will want to aid us too,” I said. “Daemon threatens him as much as he does us. More, in fact. We can give gold as well. Men too, if I know father.”

“We will need to approach the Greens as well. Aegon will understand Daemon is the true threat. For all you and he clash over the throne, neither of you has ever truly threatened the other. Daemon has no such compunctions.” I glanced at Joffrey as he spoke, frown on his face but much less pale now that he had some sort of plan laid before him.

“Still, the Three Daughters, even with our aid, will not stop him, not with two dragons,” said Laenor quietly. “Especially if they are as large as claimed. Laena?”

Laena was silent for a while. I could tell she was reading and thinking but her face was still that neutral mask. Her eyes still full of cold, searing hatred.

“This ritual described is impossible. It’s fiction,” she said finally. “To do this… anything like this, it would have to be done before the egg hatched.”

I recalled that twisted wyrm that had been birthed at Dragonstone and swallowed.

“Then Caraxes is unchanged, but this Maegon is likely to be a fierce opponent,” I concluded.

“Ridden by a child,” said Joffrey. 

“Ridden by a child raised by Mysaria and Daemon Targaryen,” I interjected, recalling the Alchemist’s testimony. “I would not discount her as a threat. Can your mother beat Daemon, Laenor?”

Laenor sighed and leaned back in his chair before shaking his head. I frowned.

“Back then, back when he fled, she could have fought him. Maybe beat him, but she would have died. Daemon was too good. Now… now I fear she is injured and he is… mad,” he explained.

“It matters not,” said Laena quickly. “I can.”

That sent cold shiver down my spine and I opened my mouth to say something, anything, only for the words to die on my tongue as she met my eyes for the first time since she had read the letter. I swallowed.

“He’s making it clear that if he reaches Luke, he will claim him,” said Laena quietly. 

“We must tell him,” said Joffrey then, looking pained. “We must tell him because if we do not and Daemon somehow does-”

“I will not allow it,” snapped Laena. “He is yours. Daemon could not forget his hatred for even one moment in order to raise Luke, while you embraced him with open arms. Do you think I have forgotten how you wept when he first called you papa? You are Luke’s father. I will not allow… I will not allow Daemon to ruin him.”

I wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. My spymaster shifted in his seat suddenly, his eyes fixed on his wife in surprise. Then he smiled, his eyes full of emotion. She gave him a nod and something passed between them then, I wasn’t sure what. Judging by the helpless shrug Laenor gave me, he had no clue either.

“The matter remains that it won’t be long before those rumours will be going around anew,” I whispered, hating to break their staring. Laena snarled briefly.

“Let them talk. They are nothing, less than nothing,” she muttered. “Their words mean nothing.”

“Perhaps we can lean on your brother,” suggested Laenor quickly as I opened my mouth to retort. “If he is as in command as he thinks he is, it should be a trivial matter for him to ensure his people keep their mouths shut. After all, what knight would involve himself in spreading such scandalous rumours.”

“Like our sleeping arrangements,” chuckled Joffrey weakly. “I expect that one to go around once more.”

“Maris will squash that one. She and Falena have always been fond of taking the Vale route of dealing with such matters,” said Laenor, resting a hand on his lover’s. Joffrey smiled before moving slightly to entangle Laenor’s fingers in his own. My husband smiled then, looking ridiculously pleased with the fact they were now holding hands. How could he, I thought. Daemon had begun to move once more and here he is playing the lovestruck goof. Then that smile died and his serious frown returned, and I found I felt guilty for willing it away from him. He turned to us, hand still in Joffrey’s.

“So we have the beginnings of a plan,” he announced. “We will send aid to Lys, ensure they can stand against Daemon for a while, at least. Their armies and fleets will wear him down, a war of attrition. He has no solid base, and I suspect he needs quick wins in order to put some distance between him and Volantis. I don’t doubt for a second that if he had destroyed it as utterly as he claims, the world would be ablaze with the news.”

“Whilst war wages in the Disputed Lands,” he continued. “We will marshal our forces. We will train our men, build our defences, stockpile foods and ensure we are ready to face him with the home advantage. We will contest every crossing and we’ll make sure that any dragon he sends against us is met by more in turn.”

“And,” I added as he met our eyes, seeking our approval. “We will take steps to ensure he does not have any advantage over us, magical or otherwise. Joffrey, I want him blind within Westeros. I want every single one of his sleepers found. Start with those in the most dangerous positions and work backwards. Laena-”

At my words, her gaze jerked towards me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“The Alchemists are yours. Learn all you can about this magic, about any magic he may have gained. No oversight, no budget. We can not afford to be blindsided by some trick or conjuring.” Jerrett would go along with it. He might make a token protest about the non-scientific method in which Laena worked, but the call of magic, of knowledge, would be too great. That, and he owed me too much to back out now. “I will write to Vaemond, tell him to take the staff in hand, to quash any rumours. He will understand.”

“Will he?” she asked dryly before shrugging when I raised an eyebrow at her. She got my meaning. Vaemond had no choice.

“In the meantime, I must return to my father’s side. The next few months will be critical and we must ensure that Lys is given a good foundation if it is to serve as our-” Joffrey cut me off with a wave of his hand.

“I would argue that continuing your progress and leaving Lord Corlys to coordinate the response in Lys would be a better use of your time.” His gaze did not flicker when I fixed him with an imperious glare. “You have met with those who are loyal to you, but this progress was never about that. It was about showing Westeros that you have power, support. It was about convincing those that are on the fence to fall on your side. What good is all of this if you abandon it before we reach the areas in which it will do the most good?”

“He is right,” said Laenor quietly. “We have supporters in the Reach that need reinforcing. The same in the Westerlands. The Tullys, the Greyjoys and the Starks are still neutral and winning them would win us this war. We can not afford to turtle up and let Aegon play the dashing prince. We can not forget the Greens, as much as we might want to.”

I stared at them all, wanting nothing more than to leap on Syrax and fly home. To tell father everything, to have him tell me it would be okay and together we would send Daemon back to the hole he had crawled out from. I let my fingers curl around my prosthetic again, thoughts turning to Aegon. His face when he had left. To Helaena and Rhaekar and the new child that would soon be welcomed into the world.

“What are your thoughts, Ser Steffon?” I felt odd and numb as I spoke, hoping my question would buy me some time to sort out the mess of emotions in my mind. They were right and I knew it, but it was oh so hard to go against every instinct screaming at me that I needed to be in the capital and I needed to be in on the ground floor when it came to my uncle.

My white knight looked thoughtful. He had remained silent in the corner as he so often did. His job was to keep me safe after all, not advise me on war and policy. So he usually sat quietly and used the information we spoke about to identify his threats or eliminate them entirely. I knew, in a roundabout sort of way, that he and Joffrey had an… arrangement in that area.

“Whilst it goes against everything I know as a knight to allow Daemon Targaryen loose for another second, I am forced to agree with Ser Laenor. This does reek of a trap,” said Steffon, giving my husband a respectful nod. “I would not send my men into it. Still, I also agree that allowing him to be free and unchallenged is also a mistake. This war of attrition you propose sounds like the best of a lot of bad options.”

“And as for my progress?” I asked. He shrugged at that.

“Politics are not my thing,” he lied easily. “But I would agree with Ser Joffrey as well. Lord Corlys is capable and he knows Daemon in a way not many can claim to.”

“Knew,” I said before I could stop myself. “My uncle has had a decade of exile to sink into madness. Corlys may have known him-”

“I understand your point,” Steffon admitted, not looking all that convinced. I closed my eyes, trying to find some excuse, some flawless argument to justify my need to call this whole thing off and fly home.

But I couldn’t. They were right. I could not ignore Aegon, no matter how much of a threat Daemon was. Damn it all to the Seven Hells.

“Very well. Joffrey, send a raven to my brother. We must meet in Highgarden. Tell him it concerns grave matters that transcend our… bickering.”


	226. The Reach - Chapter 196

“The children are anxious,” murmured Sera, nearly frightening the life from me. Too lost in my thoughts and worries - I’d been staring out at what little we could see of the Shield Islands and not paying attention to my surroundings. “They know everyone is on edge, it’s worrying them.”

My ladies knew, with certain details left out, what Daemon was. They knew what he’d done, that I believed he was capable of the lowest of lows, and not one of them knew it more than Sera. She still believed it had been he that had placed the bottle that had killed her twin. I had never thought that, even if I wasn’t quite convinced by Maris’ alternative theory, yet I had never tried to convince her otherwise.

“My apologies,” I replied. “The news was dire.”

“Dire,” repeated Sera quietly. “Even Falena is fretting. Are we not to be told?”

Silently, I cursed that she would choose now of all times to bring this up. I’d wanted to keep it secret until I could speak to Aegon but… Sab, Fal and Sera were my friends and allies. I turned to face her, taking in her pale expression and eyes that spoke of a lack of sleep. Around us, the ship continued on as if nothing had happened. As if my uncle hadn’t finally made his move. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

“In truth,” she said as I warred with myself. “I thought to ask Joff, but he was… busy.”

“Busy how?” I asked, mostly for the distraction. She smiled, although I could still see the strain.

“He’s been practising with those darts you gave him. Ser Laenor discovered numerous holes in his prized wood panelling.” Ah. The amusement was short lived but it loosened something in my breast.

“It is Daemon,” I said, finally coming to a decision, opening my eyes. Sera swallowed thickly and nodded. I could tell she’d known that, that what she truly wanted from me was what he’d done. “He has left Volantis and is marching westward with an army. By all reports, he sacked the city before he left.”

I still was not convinced he’d destroyed it utterly. No letter could ever have reached us before the news of its destruction. No, I was sure he’d been lying about that at least. Add in Laena’s certainty about the ritual… Sera let out a long whistle. More shock than awe, I thought, as she processed what I’d just said.

“He is coming to Westeros?” she asked finally. 

“He intends to conquer the Three Daughters first but he had himself crowned King before he left Volantis.” She fell silent as she digested this information too. I waited as her eyes seemed to go distant.

“When will this information be dispersed among the Blacks?” she asked and the almost brusque, business-like tone caught me completely off-guard for a few moments.

“Soon. I must speak to Aegon first, I must have an accord with him,” I told her. 

“That seems acceptable,” she murmured. “I wish to write to my father. He will want to know. He never bought the theory that it was the Dornish.”

Of course he hadn’t. I winced without meaning to and she gave me a pleading look, completely misunderstanding.

“Please, Rhaenyra. He will fall in line with you once more if you give him his chance at vengeance for Alys’ death,” she almost begged. I waved a hand and bit my lip. Telling Lyonel early would win back some points with him, and father would still know beforehand. Perhaps the former Hand might even return to the capital and father would have another friend to commiserate with.

“Run the letter by Joffrey first,” I said, giving in. “But please be discreet.”

“When am I not?” she asked brightly, although the sudden cheer was fake. “I’ll make sure Sab and Fal know everything they need to.”

“Thank you, Sera,” I told her before reaching forward and catching her hand. “I am sorry I did not tell you… the news, we can not cause a panic. Not now. He wants us to react hastily, he wants us off guard.”

She paused and then smiled, genuinely this time.

“Do not worry. I want that worm in the ground, but I don’t want it so much that I will risk everything to get it,” she assured me. I blinked at the harshness in her tone and the nickname for my uncle she’d used. She gave my hand a squeeze and I let it drop as she hastened off across the deck, no doubt eager to send her letter. When had Sera grown such hatred for him? Had I done her a disservice by letting her believe him the murderer of her sister for so long? Guilt warred with the other emotions that already occupied my gut. Anger, fear, trepidation, frustration… was this what he wanted?

I took a few deep breaths and stared out over the mouth of the Mander once more. Yet my mind would not leave the matter alone. With nothing to distract it, it circled right back around to Daemon, to trying to figure out lie from truth, what he had exaggerated and what he had downplayed… I shook my head, annoyed, and cast my eyes about the deck. Laenor stood out amongst them all of course, smiling for all that he looked tense and miserable. I suppose none of us had been sleeping well. Too much time apart from those we loved. Each moment of tenderness stolen. He caught my gaze and waved. I returned it before heaving another sigh and staring out at the water again.

I was in a foul mood and it seemed not much would fix it. It had been so easy to ignore, when he had been lurking out of sight and out of mind. Now that I knew for sure he had begun to move, I knew we would one day have to face him again. Why could the bounty simply not have done its job? Why could he simply have not died on Bloodstone and saved us all the time and worry?

Would putting up with him be as bad as this?

The thought rankled, settling somewhere on my chest and refusing to shift. He had come to King’s Landing that summer with one goal in mind, and that goal was to earn my good graces and to begin some sort of seduction. That I had rejected any attention from him had infuriated him, that I had recruited others to stand in his way had only served to feed the flame. What had started out as a plan to snare me had become a determination that he wouldn’t lose. When he had lost, and in the fashion he had lost, it had cemented his hatred of me.

Yet I could have saved it still. If I had spoken to him, approached him genuinely, smoothed things over between Laena and him… he would still have hated me. Laena had thought his love for her would be stronger back then, even he had, in a roundabout fashion. If I had let things lie, if I had facilitated their love, would he have come around eventually? 

If, if, if… musing on the past would not get me out of my predicament now. Daemon was coming to Westeros. He was coming for his son, he was coming for a crown and I had little doubt that he was coming for Laena and myself as well. If he should get everything he wanted he would kill my husband, he would kill Joffrey and he would kill my children. Likely Rhaena too. There was no reasoning with him now. Even giving the throne to Aegon was a more palatable option.

“Mama?” Again, I nearly jumped clean over the rails in fright. Jocelyn stood behind me, looking curious. I did not fail to note the bruise on her chin and my hand went to it without conscious thought. She grimaced as my fingertips brushed it. “It’s nothing.”

“It looks fresh,” I murmured. She smiled. 

“I missed a parry, it’s fine,” she insisted. “Mama, you must come to the nursery, we have something to show you.”

“Oh? And who is ‘we’, precisely?” I asked, moving from the taffrail to follow. 

“All of us!” she told me in a sing-song tone that told me she was almost certainly up to something. I frowned and just barely caught her flinching in response. Of course, Sera had said my children were anxious. No doubt this was some scheme they had cooked up to lift our moods… they did not know yet. The thought took me back to Luke, back to the knowledge Daemon was coming for him as much as anything else. Laena had been firm, yet I could not shake the thought that he should know.

“Mama,” said Jocelyn, looking almost impatient. I forced a smile.

“Forgive me my woolgathering, I’ve been somewhat stressed lately,” I told her, following once more as she led me into the depth of the ship.

“We noticed,” she said with an impish smile and I realised, quite suddenly, that it would not be long before she was twelve. My daughters… I smiled at her, emotion in my throat. Would they make their majority before they saw war? I hoped they would. I hoped their childhood would not be snatched from them.

“Such rudeness,” I murmured, much to her delight. “Who raised you?”

That made her grin more as we reached Viserys’ nursery and she knocked on the door.

“I have mama!” she called. The door opened and I discovered that ‘all of us’ meant every child on the ship, including my youngest son. I watched, amused, as he crawled after his new hatchling. The hatchling itself was no more graceful, creeping across the floor after a bit of roast meat tied to a string being dragged along by a delighted Alys.

“We’re teaching him to hunt,” said Aemon by way of explanation. I smiled again.

“Your brother or the dragon?” I asked as I sat down in the old worn chair. It had been new when Jocelyn and Alys had been born and had seen all of my children through their early years. “Do be careful, he does have teeth now.”

At the warning, Aemon eyed him suspiciously, as if he suspected his brother might leap at him. Then he smiled and scooped him up, much to Viserys’ annoyance. He was still intent on the hatchling.

“We thought we’d all spend some time together,” said Aliandra. “Since it’s been all hands on deck.”

The explanation stunk of a lie, the finger that had started twisting at her hair confirmed it for me. I mentally ran through a list of suspects. Joffrey would be busy with Sera, Laena busy with her books. I grant Sab or Fal might have done it, but it was more likely to be Laenor.

“And you thought you’d keep me from brooding all afternoon?” I asked, taking a wriggling Viserys from Aemon. It would not be long before he was due to be fed. Whilst he still required a wet nurse, a full half of his meals were made up of the unappetising mush that was carefully spooned into his mouth. More often than not, he spat it back out again, but still…

“I wouldn’t say brooding,” said Aliandra evasively.

“Papa did, though,” Alys told me gleefully as she let the hatchling catch his prize.

“Alys,” whined Aemon as she held up her hands in surrender. 

“Do not blame your sister,” I told them. “I know my dearest husband is interfering again.”

“But Alyssa still shouldn’t have told you,” said Aemma from where she was propped up against the wall. It was the first time I’d heard her speak since I’d gotten here. I forced a smile onto my face.

“I’m sure you can forgive her,” I told her. “Still, I would have thought you would have not tried to give the game away so soon, Alys.”

“It’s not my fault Ali can’t lie!” she protested, earning herself a half-sheepish half-annoyed look from Aliandra, and a shrug from Aemma. 

“Could we get new books in Highgarden?” asked Aemma, changing the subject and understanding dawned on me. I would take a bet she’d finished everything she’d brought for reading in record time. No wonder she was still grouchy. 

“Of course,” I replied to a small cheer from her, Rhaena and Alyssa. 

“I don’t need any,” said Aemon sounding self-conscious when I shot him a questioning look. “Aunt Laena has me reading through her books on dragon physiology. She set me homework.”

“Welcome to the rest of your training,” snarked Alys, earning herself a raised eyebrow. She shrugged.

“Why do you never set me homework, Mama?” asked Jocelyn. I shifted my grasp on Viserys and glanced at her.

“I’m terrible at setting it,” I lied. “I’d much rather we learnt with action, don’t you agree?”

She thought that over for second, suspicion in her eyes, before she nodded, seemingly happy with the explanation. If she thought for a moment that I was not setting homework because I knew she would struggle… I did not want her to do something foolish to convince me she was good enough. Knowing my luck, she’d be aerially duelling Daeron or something.

A thought struck me then. Something to do, to keep us all occupied, something to reassure them.

“Although, speaking of books...” At that they all perked up to pay attention. “I have been writing one of my own.”

“About Ser Jason?” asked Rhaena, eyes bright with excitement.

“Not quite,” I told them to their evident disappointment. “One about me, so that you all can read it when I am gone.”

That got a few frowns and curious glances. It probably hadn’t helped the anxiety either, if I was speaking of my own death in such terms. I waved a hand to get their attention once again.

“Not that I intend to be gone for a good time yet,” I assured them to their obvious relief. “But I do wonder what you would like me to put in it. Barring funny stories from when you were all babies of course.”


	227. The Reach - Chapter 197

Highgarden was heart achingly beautiful, awash with colour from flowers I could only begin to guess at the names of. Its gardens stretched from white stone wall to white stone wall and that was before I could even begin to try and wrap my mind around the vast labyrinth of greenery beyond all of that. Nothing seemed out of place, even when we were shown into a truly vast garden that had been chosen for the scene of our welcoming.

White and green tents had been erected to provide shade for what must be hundreds of guests. Nobles from every corner of the Reach, regardless of their loyalties, clamoured for a glimpse of us as we followed the knights dressed in green and gold. Music heralded our arrival to the cheering of those around us - had they gone so overboard to avoid any accusations of support for the Hightowers? I wrestled my paranoia down as our host approached. 

I had met Lord Desmond Florent only once, when he had come to the Red Keep to swear to father that he would prove a just and leal regent to Lyonel. I had not paid too much attention, the bitterness from father’s ‘lesson’ still biting at me. On the surface, he seemed unchanged. He was still of average height with gingery hair, he still bore the same pencil-thin moustache and he still had exactly no real chin to boast of. Although, I noted as he bowed low, his hair had begun to thin. 

“Your Grace,” he murmured as he rose, his eyes only lingering on me for a second before they were raised to the sky to peer at the dragons circling Highgarden. Then his eyes snapped back down again once more and he smiled, although I was quite sure he did not mean to look so uneasy. “Highgarden welcomes you.”

“Lord Florent,” I replied. “I am pleased to see Highgarden at last. Tales are told from Dorne to the Wall of its beauty and my only complaint is that even they could not properly capture its true magnificence.”

“Your Grace is too kind,” he replied. I smiled at him. House Florent had petitioned Aegon I for the title of Lord Paramount and Aegon had denied them. This was the closest they had gotten to that power since the fall of the Gardener Kings, and they were doing so on behalf of a boy. “We have prepared a light lunch to be taken within the gardens to welcome your party. Although if Your Grace would prefer to hasten to your rooms, I would be delighted to guide you there.”

“A light lunch would be splendid,” I told him as I eyed the tents and the tables within. Food guarded by nobles. “Although, I could not help but notice, my brother and sister have also arrived?”

Lord Florent actually looked a little nervous at that, as if he feared I would challenge Aegon to a duel on the spot and turn Highgarden into a pleasant smelling bonfire. His eyes shot about, looking for some sort of distraction before he seemed to resign himself to the matter.

“Princess Helaena is resting, Your Grace, and Prince Aegon wished to remain with her as she approaches the end point of her pregnancy.” It all seemed too much, too fast, I reflected as only sheer habit kept my smile in place. Another son or daughter for Aegon, another pregnancy my sister endured. “She is hoping to return to Oldtown after you depart and spend her confinement there.”

“Thank you, Lord Florent. I shall not trouble them, then. Carrying a child is no easy task, after all.” At my words, his eyes slid past me to where my children lined up, glancing about with wide eyes.

“Your Grace would certainly know,” he laughed. “You have been blessed with so many. I had a proposal I wished to put to you about such matters, but… well, it seems crass to do so now.”

I nodded. He would want Aemma, I would warrant. Viserys was also a possibility, I supposed, but he would be Lord of the Tides and I was not sure what the Florents would get out of providing the next Lady Velaryon.

“I shall look forward to hearing your proposal,” I told him earnestly. “Now, I do believe Lord Lyonel awaits?”

At my prompt, Lord Desmond flushed and nodded before half turning to a gaggle of Florent boys and girls, and the young figure they all flanked protectively. Dressed as he was in green and gold, Lyonel Tyrell looked oh so very young. I smiled as one of his many Florent attendants almost shoved him forward and he seemed to remember who I was and just what he was supposed to be doing. He stepped forward and smiled. He was no more than seven, if that, I thought, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He’d picked up the unfortunate ears of his Florent mother, though, and I could see the gap in his teeth when he all but beamed at me. His bow was well-practised despite his youth and better than many I’d seen in actual grown adults.

“Your Grace,” he said. “Welcome to Highgarden.”

“Thank you, Lord Lyonel,” I replied warmly. “It is truly an honour to be here.”

Lyonel smiled at that, looking pleased before he glanced at his regent. Lord Desmond gave him a look and something passed between them before the boy straightened up and tried to adopt a solemn look. 

“Thank you for your kind words when my mother passed,” he said quietly. “They were…”

He stopped and I winced.

“I lost my mother young as well,” I told him gently. His look was startled, but I saw the tears there, the ones he was trying desperately to hide. “You need not thank me. I know how… little words can help.”

“Thank you,” he said again. I cursed Lord Desmond in that moment. It would have been better if he’d let the boy speak and not insisted on the thank you, the one that had clearly brought old pain to the surface once more. 

“Might I introduce my children, Lord Lyonel?” At that, he seemed to cheer up a little as my little procession came forward. Even Aliandra was greeted with a boyish politeness, and when she complimented him, he blushed red to the roots of his hair. He blushed again when he received Alys’ attention, much to the amusement of all. I would have to watch that. The Reach would be no more friendly to Aliandra than the Stormlands, but I had to trust they would at least hide it to a greater degree. Ser Steffon had clued the knights in this time, anyway. Soon the pomp and ceremony was done with and we were released to pillage the bounty of Highgarden.

“So,” said Laenor quietly after I disentangled myself from some minor landed knight and stole a truly delicious looking apple from a nearby basket. “Aegon is here. As are the Hightowers.”

“You make it sound as if it were a surprise,” I murmured, before biting down. Laenor shook his head, annoyed. “You are disquieted.”

“I dislike Ormund Hightower being so close,” he muttered, reaching out and taking an apple for himself. “Between Aegon and himself… someone will cause trouble. Ormund is thick but vicious, and Aegon can not allow you victory here.”

I paused before resting a hand on his arm, rubbing a comforting circle into the fabric with my thumb. He glanced down before a ghost of a smile played over his face.

“We can do this,” I told him. “Joffrey already speaks of several offers to talk. Alan Tarly continues to make allies and-”

I paused, reflecting on Lord Desmond’s surprising olive branch.

“I think the Florents are willing to come to the table as well,” I murmured.

“For my son or daughter,” he groused and I had to smother a smile.

“She still has you wrapped around her finger,” I teased and he blushed pink. “Neither Alys or Jocelyn have such power over you, yet Aemma can make you her most ardent servant with a look.”

“That is not-” His denial faltered at the sight of my raised eyebrow and he smiled despite himself. “It is a little true.”

“Ah, he finally admits it,” I teased and he chuckled. “She will be wanting new books, time alone in the library…”

“We can arrange it,” he promised.

“I will be taking Aemon about with me, and Rhaena is like to stay close to Aemma… which just leaves the twins to entertain.” At that, Laenor snorted.

“You changed the subject,” he finally said.

“I did,” I admitted. “It will do us no good to sulk about it now. Why not lighten the mood?”

“True.” He took a bite of his apple and hummed thoughtfully. “Will you speak with your brother regarding… regarding our little problem?”

I swallowed, suddenly chilly in the bright afternoon sun.

“Yes,” I replied, feeling dread pool in my stomach. Why had he reminded me? I had spent so long putting thoughts of Daemon in their little box so they would not spill out before I was ready for them to, and Laenor had managed to open it without even saying his name. “Aegon will help. He has to.”

“He is arrogant,” murmured Laenor. “What is to say he believes he could attack us all?”

“Not even he is that arrogant,” I snorted disdainfully. “He has two kingdoms and less dragons. He’d be a fool to even go so far as to attack me.”

“Make sure he knows that,” Laenor told me before his face transformed into a pleased smile. “Ah, Lord Tarly!”

I turned to find the Lord of Horn Hill beaming at me, my lover trailing behind him, giving me a long suffering look that I recognised as a plea for escape.

“Lord Tarly, it is good to see you again!” I was only half lying. Tarly was a good man and a staunch Black, but he could try the nerves if you did not ration your meetings with him. He did not look like much at first glance. He was stocky and short for a man, with sandy coloured hair and dark eyes, but when he was on the battlefield… well, I had been informed that you knew it. At least this time he was not wearing the almost comically sized Heartsbane.

“Your Grace,” he replied, eyes bright. “How are you finding the Reach so far?”

“Beautiful,” I replied. “The people, the weather and the local architecture.”

He looked very pleased with that compliment.

“I was just speaking with Lady Laena about the battle in the Pass when she suggested that we track you down to speak of… battles to come.” Hmmm. Thank you, Laena. Most appreciated. The woman in question was looking like a deer in headlights, so I took pity.

“And an excellent suggestion it was, Lord Tarly,” I said, the lie coming easier than most. “We have much to discuss.”

Something must have come through then, because he frowned. 

“Is something already afoot?” he almost whispered. “You became ever so grim there.”

“The Princess’s uncle moves,” murmured Laenor, and I barely heard him over the chatter surrounding us. Tarly’s eyes went wide and he let a few choice curses slip under his breath that would have made a septa blush.

“What is the plan?” he asked, eyes suddenly serious. I could see why he had the reputation he did, in that moment anyway.

“Not here,” said Laena. “All it takes is one overheard statement and we start a panic.”

Tarly nodded, thoughtfully.

“My father is being informed as we speak,” I assured him. “Once we know what the King has to say about the matter, we can begin our answer.”

“I understand completely, Your Grace,” he said. “Too many hot heads about here. Too many cowards, too.”

He was looking past me when he said that and I followed his gaze to a tall, oaken haired man in conversation with a lord I only recognised from the colours he wore. Ormund Hightower, no doubt, in deep conversation with Lord Harys Oakheart. I turned back. Ormund’s actions had killed Lord Donald Tarly and nearly lost the House its Valyrian steel sword in the process. Scars like that did not ever heal, not really.

“Coward?” said Laena. “No. Idiot, more like. He wouldn’t know good military strategy if it bit him on the arse.”

“So thick he couldn’t find said backside with both hands and a map,” muttered Tarly. “Had the gall to call my father incompetent, to blame him for the disaster in the Pass.”

Laenor whistled in shock and even I had to take a moment to truly reflect on how much of a bad idea that was.

“And look at him,” Tarly continued. “He comes to Highgarden armed.”

Now that he mentioned it, Ormund was wearing a blade at his side when there was a suspicious dearth of them on the more finely dressed guests. From the hilt I would guess Garmon had taken a head wound and decided to give his son the family blade.

“Come,” I said finally, tossing my apple core aside. “We are here to network, not mutter and stare. Let us go once more unto the breach.”


	228. The Reach - Chapter 198

“You did not welcome me, brother, am I to take that as an insult?” It was gratifying when he all but leapt from the seat he had taken, whirling about to face me before relaxing by a mere fraction a moment later. I smiled, admittedly without much affection, as he watched me, as if trying to gauge my mood. We had not spoken since the mess in King’s Landing, since he’d crawled back into his mother’s skirts and left father behind.

“It hardly seemed appropriate, Rhaenyra,” he said finally. “Besides, Helaena needs me during this time.”

Around us, the garden swayed in the breeze, sending leaves and petals into the air and new scents. It was as beautiful as any other corner of Highgarden. Lord Desmond had informed me, after much prodding, that Aegon and Helaena had almost taken it over since their arrival with the rest of the Hightower party.

“How is she?” I asked, softening. I could be angry at her some other time, when she was not suffering. Aegon looked at me for a moment, no doubt trying to figure out how genuine my concern was before dropping back onto his bench and rubbing his hands over his face and hair. “That bad?”

“The babe is weak,” he admitted. “We barely feel it, she’s barely showing. The maesters feared-” 

He stopped then and sighed, and I realised he had dark smudges under his eyes. It dawned on me that my brother was stressed beyond all belief for our sister. Part of me, the part of me I was not sure I liked, was satisfied with such a state of affairs. Aegon had abandoned me, declared he would disrupt everything for greed and want of a throne. Helaena had proven that for all her claims of hating being married to him, she would crawl back to him at a moment’s notice for comfort, if for nothing else.

Then I squashed that part down.

“Helaena is strong,” I told him. “I can not promise the babe will be fine, Aegon, but he or she has the best possible start.”

He smiled then, relaxing for barely a moment before the smile flickered and died and he peered at me.

“Thank you, sister,” he said carefully. “I trust your Progress goes well.”

I grit my teeth at the tone and dropped into the seat beside him, making him shuffle a little to put space between us. Honestly, it was if he feared I would dissolve into screaming and strike at him. My temper was fearsome, but not that fearsome.

“Well enough,” I replied. “Is that truly what you wish to speak of?”

“I should,” he told me. “Lord Garmon is quite worried. He told me that I should try and find out which men support you and who waver. He told me it would be easy to draw you into conversation as such.”

“He prepares for the worst,” I said, tone bland. Aegon sighed in frustration and we both fell silent, for all I wanted to clip him over the back of the head until he saw just how stupid he was being. Lord Garmon understood, even if Aegon himself seemingly could not. There would be no Council, not whilst I had the power to prevent one. Aegon would have to burn his reputation on the altar of appeasing the lords who supported him or he would have to declare war. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. My thoughts had echoed this path a thousand times over. Still, this was not why I had tracked him down. “I did not seek you out for a polite check-in, however.”

At that, Aegon’s mouth quirked up at the side. Amused, but no joy. 

“I would not have suspected you had ulterior motives for doing so, sister,” he said dryly and I stamped on the urge to slap him again. That dread was welling up inside me again, making Aegon seem small and inconsequential in its wake.

“Do not mock me, Aegon,” I told him sharply. “This is more serious than both of us.”

He stared at me and for a moment I thought he would retort and that this whole conversation would descend into bickering. Then he swallowed whatever he had to say and simply nodded for me to continue. I let out a shaking breath and wrapped my injured hand in my good one. 

“It concerns our uncle,” I told him. Aegon’s features went dark.

“I see,” he replied stiffly. “What shame does he bring upon our House now?”

“It is what shame he will bring in the future we must worry about,” I told him and Aegon stiffened in his seat, glancing briefly at the castle before looking back at me. “He marches westward finally, and he marches with an army at his back.”

“Mercenaries?” asked Aegon, frowning.

“No, troops from Volantis-” I held up a hand as Aegon’s eyes went wide and he tried to interrupt me. “He stole them somehow, we know not the method. He lured them out to face him and then they turned traitor and aided in his sack of the city.”

“Volantis is sacked,” he murmured, eyes wide. “Lord Garmon must be told. Why have we not heard of this yet?”

“As near as we can tell? It only happened a few weeks past, and Daemon has shown an… unnerving ability to suppress rumours. I suspect not even he can keep this quiet for much longer, though,” I told him. “He marches westward with the intention of conquering Lys, Myr and Tyrosh.”

“Revenge,” said Aegon. “They brought him low once, he wants revenge. Or am I wrong? You know our uncle better than I.”

“And what is that to mean, Aegon?” I asked sweetly, tone belying the fury that was suddenly hammering through my veins. Say it, I willed him. Say it, for I have much to say on the subject of women who laid with our uncle. He tensed, sensing the danger.

“It was you he attacked,” he said hastily. “It was your allies he burned. Mother may shout, but I do not believe everything she tells me.”

I relaxed. I could tell him. I could tell him everything his mother had done, I could tell him just why father would never approve of having Aegon as his heir. I could explain to him every sordid detail regarding their affair in her youth, of how she had thrown it in Viserys’ face, of how it was Otto’s rage at the affair that had driven him to make the disastrous blunder of the decree.

I even opened my mouth, ready to do so. Ready to tear Aegon from his mother’s bosom once more. Then I snapped my mouth closed. Anger was making me reckless, silly. Such a revelation would serve as better ammunition for later. Lord Desmond had assured me that Alicent was not present, not currently. It would be best to tell him when she was right there, ready to receive his hate and anger.

Was I truly that cruel, or was Joffrey a bad influence? Such a thought, such a ploy, that felt as if it could have been ripped straight from his mind.

“Very well,” I replied finally. “Revenge was my thought as well. He claims it as peacekeeping, a way to free the slaves and bring peace to a land torn by war.”

“That man…” murmured Aegon. “We can not allow him to destroy innocents. We must inform father, we must raise our armies-”

“And run directly into the trap he has laid for us?” I asked and Aegon glared at me then, looking more like a petulant child than a prince. “Father knows. We told him as soon as we could and I will be travelling back soon enough to coordinate our response.”

“Then I will return with you,” he insisted. I could snap at him now, I could send him crying back into his mother’s skirts when I threw his lack of title and experience in his stupid face. It would be worth it for that moment of sheer satisfaction.

“And leave Helaena alone?” I asked. He flinched and then grimaced. 

“Besides, there will be no official response,” I told him, driving the point home. “We will not give that cur what he wants. We will renew the bounty, we will reinforce Lys, we will ensure the Three Daughters are strong, we will send them gold and ships but we will not march blindly at the man and hope that justice and goodness will save us from him.”

“I will return with you,” he insisted. “We can not afford to sneak about, we must challenge him openly. Let them all know he is wrong, that his actions can not be borne.”

Father would side with me. He would have too many advising him to do so, after all. His council was Black, his friend was Black, his one loyal child was Black. Aegon’s words would not change that, in fact, they may solidify his support behind my plan. He would not soon forget his son’s betrayal, after all. Maybe Aegon would finally understand what it is like to be the focus of father’s kind of topsy-turvy love.

“Very well,” I sighed, as if it were no great matter. “I will finish my tour in Highgarden and then fly back as the rest travel to Lannisport.”

“I understand,” said Aegon. “I will make the arrangements with Lord Garmon.”

I nearly asked him if he needed Lord Garmon’s permission to use the privy as well, but bit my tongue at the last second.

“Father will enjoy seeing you again,” I told him, part of me enjoying the flinch and the slight slouch that brought.

“Has he been well?” he asked.

“No.” Another flinch and Aegon could not quite meet my eye. “He grieves for his children.”

“We are not dead,” Aegon bit out, sounding annoyed, defensive.

“No, but you have so publicly rejected him,” I replied, twisting the knife a little further. “He is humiliated and hurting.”

You did that, I mentally added, but Aegon knew.

“He… he was hurting mother so much,” he whispered. “The dishonour-”

“Please, it was all about you again. Why can’t I be king? Why can’t I have a throne?” At my words, he looked up at me, fury in his eyes and I cursed my tongue. Alicent’s transgressions came back to me, taunting me with how easy they would be to say. Instead, I folded my arms and fixed him with a glare. “A king should be all powerful in his realms, not at the mercy of his lords.”

“We have had this argument,” he snapped. “We have had it a thousand times. What do we gain by bickering like children now?”

“One of these days you might get what trying to usurp father’s will means through your thick skull,” I growled. “A crack in Targaryen power that would smash the entire dynasty, to say nothing of the disaster war would bring.”

“There will be no war!” he shouted, climbing to his feet, face red with anger. “I am not our uncle. I am not some honourless cur, willing to shed the blood of family. All I ask is for a fair shot at what is mine by rights! What is mine by law! By all traditions we hold!”

Anger rose within me then, and I stood too. Not tall enough to see eye to eye but it was enough that he shuffled back a few paces.

“I have told you once and I have told you a thousand times and yet you still persist in this fundamental misunderstanding,” I hissed. “There will be no Council. I will not allow it. My supporters will not allow it. What will you do then? Hm? How will you placate your lords? How will you keep them from starting a war when they grow restless without bloodshed? After all, in your little dreamworld, a king is not absolute!”

He stared at me, eyes glowing with resentment, but he had nothing to say, and he knew it.

“Enough.” We both whirled then to find Helaena walking up the path towards us. Guilt surged through me as Aegon all but ran to her side. She looked even worse in the light of day. Pale, lack of sleep evident, thinner than I recalled. The curve of her belly, even this far along, was barely there.

“Helaena, you should be resting,” insisted Aegon as he lowered her to the bench.

“Lord Desmond was kind enough to inform me that Rhaenyra was searching for us both. I figured she’d find you here,” she said, shooting me a look that said clear as day, she expected to find us arguing as well. I refused to feel guilt at that look, I also refused to cross my arms like a petulant child.

“We were discussing matters of great importance,” said Aegon, glancing at me.

“Truly? I could hear you yelling your usual arguments from the gate,” she snapped and Aegon flushed.

“We were discussing our uncle,” I said, taking pity. Helaena froze for a moment, fear echoing over her face before she let out a long breath as if to steady herself. Fear came to me once again. Such a reaction could never bode well. I moved, sitting next to her and taking her hands. They were cold, too cold. Aegon watched in silence for a moment, then knelt before her, taking her other hand.

“You have seen something,” he whispered, shooting me a nervous look. Of course, I realised, he had been the first to know of her power.

“I see many things,” she told us both. “I have seen so many futures… he is not a nice man, Aegon.”

“I know that,” he chuckled weakly. “For all that we argue, I would kill him for what he did to Rhaenyra alone.”

I did not have anything to say to that and so I said nothing on the matter.

“He has a daughter,” I told them. “She rides a fearsome dragon, by all reports.”

“I see it sometimes,” whispered Helaena, eyes flickering closed. “It swoops through a storm, black as the night sky. It is wrong, Rhaenyra. It makes me sick to even think of it now.”

“Wrong?” asked Aegon, looking puzzled. Helaena shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“It matters not,” I said quickly, earning myself an annoyed look. I did not want to delve into magic, I did not want to explain the twisting monster- “What matters is that it exists.”

“Aegon, could you ensure I have some soup waiting for me in my rooms?” asked Helaena suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. My brother gave her a startled look, before directing a look of appeal to me. Then, without saying anything, he seemed to give in.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “You will bring her back when you are finished talking?”

“Of course,” I replied. He nodded and stood, stretching as he did so. He fixed Helaena with one last worried look before turning and leaving us there, surrounded by flowers and the wind. I waited until he was out of sight to interrupt whatever she had to say.

“I am sorry,” I told her. “I was a brat. I sulked. I took my own anger out on you and you did not deserve it.”

She stared at me for a moment then raised her eyes to the sky where a single, fluffy cloud was making its way above us. 

“Why did you have to say that?” she asked, sounding on the verge of tears. “Why?”

Shock and worry swept away the anger that might have brought. As I sat there frozen, she took back her hand and looked me in the eye. She was trying not to cry, I realised. 

“I-” She cut me off by shaking her head violently from side to side. I fell silent. It was evident now that she wished to talk and she wished for me to listen. Anticipation opened itself in my stomach and I could taste it on my tongue. Not like the dread Daemon bought, but-

“I need you to listen,” she whispered. “I need you to understand.”

“I will,” I promised, determined to keep it. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her dress as she took a deep and shuddering breath.

“When I was younger,” she began. “The dreams, they were so- they were so frightening. I died and I kept dying and I didn’t understand. I was so scared, Rhaenyra.”

I reached out and used my thumb to brush away a tear that had escaped. She flinched at the touch and then closed her eyes.

“Then you… you and Ser Laenor… you helped me. You led me to Morghul, you helped me change them but I still… I still die, Rhaenyra. I still die in almost everything I have seen. I wanted so badly to find a dream where I… where we remained sisters… but I die.”

“They are visions,” I told her quickly, desperate because I knew what she was trying to tell me and every part of me was screaming to not let her put it into words. It was not real if she did not say it aloud. “They are of what could be, a thousand different possibilities, you can not let them dictate your life.”

“I have not,” she told me, eyes still closed but more tears escaping now. “I lived how I wished to live. I stopped looking for the dreams. I learnt to live with them. I know what you feared would happen. You feared they would crush me. That I would become some empty woman parroting niceties with nothing in me but grief and terror.”

“Helaena,” I said but she waved her hand again.

“You gave me the chance to live on my own terms,” she said, opening her eyes. She drew another breath. “So I must live on my own terms. For myself, for my children…”

“I would never harm them,” I told her, empty feeling growing within me.

“Now you sound like Aegon.” I clenched my jaw at that, fury making my vision spin for a moment. She shook her head. “There will be war now. Daemon, he… there will be war against him. It is hard to see. I think that is what is worse. To know events but not know what led to them, to know what is coming and to not know how.”

I waited, wrestling with my feelings.

“You will follow him, then?” I asked and I hated how my voice sounded at that moment. Petulant and whining, as if Helaena were a toy Aegon had somehow stolen. “Even after all I have done for you, you will follow him.”

“I love my brother, Rhaenyra,” she whispered. “I love my mother and I love Aemond, Daeron and Viserra, even when they are being brats. I love my son and my unborn child.”

“And what of me?” I demanded. She sighed and closed her eyes for a second before opening them.

“It is not enough. If I choose you, I sacrifice the rest. If I choose you, my brothers die. If I choose you, my family is cast into ruin. If I choose you, my children are torn from me.” My fingers ached as I clenched them tightly but I did not care at that moment. I wanted to yell, to scream at her, to throw something. “I will not fight against you. I will defend, not attack, but I can not let you kill those I love. I can not choose you.”

“I see.” It was all I could manage without breaking my promise to her. She said nothing as I took a few deep breaths. There was a pressure behind my eyes that threatened to make my head ache with the force of it. A wind roaring in my ears, a sudden need to move and not be here. To be anywhere but here. I stood.

“I fear you will have to find a knight to escort you to your rooms, Helaena. I have business elsewhere.”


	229. The Reach - Chapter 199

I ended up riding Syrax for hours, coaxing my poor dragon into aerial displays and bursts of speed. I’m sure she’d have loved to remain in her field, basking in the sun, where she would no doubt be fed a tasty sheep or three with absolutely no work on her part, but I needed to vent the anger and the hurt into something before I did something reckless and stupid. To do so within Highgarden itself would likely end in disaster, and so Syrax was put through her paces. At some point, Vermax and Morrigan took to the air, their riders intent on joining me. 

“Mama!” shouted Jocelyn, the sound of her whip cracking as Morrigan came in close and slowed. On my other side, Aemon flanked me as well, the grin on his face so at odds with my current mood that I nearly bit clean through my lip with the effort of not barking at him. “May we ride with you!?”

Who sent them up to me, I wondered? It had to be one of the three. Laenor or Joffrey, Laena would have come up herself if left to her own devices, I think. I took a deep breath for a moment, let the sun shine on my face, and then let it out. Helaena’s choice was hers and as much as I wanted to strangle her with my bare hands, or lock myself in my chambers and weep for days, I could not, would not, take that out on my children.

Joffrey sent them, then. Sneaky little rat. I should take him up on Syrax’s back for using my children like pawns against me. See how smug he is after we’ve done a few loops and rolls.

“You have both been practising outside of your lessons, I see!?” I called back.

“Of course, mama!” Aemon shouted. “I have to catch up to Jo and Alyssa.”

“Not happening!” laughed Jocelyn, her face brightening into a grin I could see from my mount.

“Come then! Let us race. Four circuits of Highgarden whilst being sure to loop their Godswood should serve to strain your fine control enough.” Seconds later, Jocelyn and Aemon’s whips cracked and both dragons launched themselves forward with deafening roars. Syrax’s own answering one was more like a groan as she shuddered under me and then surged forward, eager to catch those pesky younger dragons. We raced for most of the day, Jocelyn winning by a hair’s breadth.

Joffrey’s smile and readiness after we landed only confirmed my suspicions, so I kept him waiting for a bit before debriefing him on what had sent me into such a rage. It still hurt, a pain above my heart as if I had been stabbed, yet no one could see it. I was not eager to hear his planning, nor Laena’s cool assessment of my sister as a rider, so I dragged Laenor to bed with me and spilled my grief to him as he held me, wiped away my tears and murmured assurances.

I felt better, although fragile, when we emerged in time for a small dinner being hosted in the main hall and I put myself to work. I would make sure Aegon lost supporters here. It would be a difficult task, but I was feeling very, very motivated. Aegon, or Garmon Hightower on his behalf, had done much to bind the Reach lords to him. Discounting his mother’s family, Aegon’s cause enjoyed the support of the Mullendores, the Bulwers, the Costaynes, the Redwynes, the Cuys, the Blackbars, the Roxtons, the Fossoways, the Ashfords, the Osgreys, the Peakes, and the Leygoods. That was just what he enjoyed openly. There were other lords, ones that claimed neutrality, that I was suspicious of. Too many knights of their houses mingling with Aegon’s Greens, too many second and third sons sent to gallivant about with him wherever he went.

Still, Aegon’s support was not a sure thing among these groups. Gwayne Mullendore’s father had died in the sands of Dorne and he hated them for that, but opposing me did not mean opposing Dorne and if I could trick Aegon into actually making a positive stance on Dorne, Mullendore’s support would be shaken. Gwayne’s mother, who was quietly speaking to us, assured us of that. She was of the opinion it had been Ormund Hightower’s idiocy that had seen her late husband to his grave. 

There were more tales like that across the families. Owen Costayne supported the Greens because he was under too much pressure to do otherwise. His wife had been set to inherit her father’s estates before the man had willed them to his brother instead and denied the man a chance to increase his own power. His own overtures assured us that if he could survive supporting us, he would in an instant. 

That was without getting into which lords were loyal to the High Tower rather than Aegon himself. Normally, I would not make the distinction. Aegon and the Hightowers were united under one goal and that was to place him on the Throne of Westeros. Yet one goal did not necessarily mean one method, or that they were united in the rewards or how the aftermath of such a deed would look. There was possibility there, I was sure of it.

Then there was also the play to be made for the Florents, of course. Lord Desmond had assembled quite the little power bloc for himself in the year since he had been appointed Lyonel’s regent. The lords of the Shield Islands followed him utterly, as well as Lords Merryweather, Cassel, and Meadows. These houses would join my side should Lord Desmond do so, and that might be as simple as promising Aemma to his son and having done with it. Besides which, there were those houses that might already be on my side, such as-

“Your Grace, forgive me if I disturbed you,” I glanced up to find a familiar face. Or rather, the echoes of a familiar face. Ser Alan Beesbury smiled as I gestured for him to sit and Laenor shuffled about to give him some room to draw up a chair.

“It is no imposition,” I told him quite truthfully as he poured himself some wine. “I find it hard to believe we have never met before, your father has told me so much of you, I feel as if we are old friends.”

Alan laughed. He did look like Lyman, but I could see hints of the Master of Coin’s late wife in him. His eyes were a different shade of brown, deep and dark instead of Lyman’s warm hazel.

“It is nice to know that for all he is married to his duty in King’s Landing, his thoughts are always with Honeyholt.” There was no trace of bitterness when he spoke. Lyman had been Master of Coin for my late great grandfather and so rarely travelled to see his family that it must be hard for them. As far as I knew, he had travelled to see his son married and to see the births of each of his grandchildren, but I could recall no trips beyond that.

“With you,” I replied. “I have never seen him as proud as when you obtained your knighthood. He received the letter during one of my lessons and he picked me up off of the floor and swung me about in joy,” I told him and Alan smiled broadly at that.

“I had no idea father had breached royal protocol so,” he laughed. “I rather have to change what I think of him now.”

“He apologised afterwards, but I think I was more interested in getting my hands on the treats he would keep in his desk,” I told him, recalling my old lessons. Praise from Lyman had always been accompanied by a sweet treat. It was why it was so unsurprising that he had kept that tradition alive with my own children.

“Ah yes,” said Alan fondly. Then he smiled slyly and blushed a little. “He was the same with me. I still feel guilty eating those things if I have not earned them that day.”

“He gives them to my children now,” I told him. “Although I must complain, he never makes them write out sums for the pleasure.”

“I heard about your sums,” laughed Alan. “From what father wrote, he might have preferred to just give you the treat.”

I could not argue that point so I did not, laughing along with Alan and watching Laenor trying not to giggle into his wine at our conversation. 

“On our wedding day, he said to me ‘I hope you can count, dear boy, because Rhaenyra can’t’,” he snickered, sending me red. Alan hid his broad smile in his wine.

“It’s true,” I sighed finally. “I tried so hard, but it never seemed to take.”

Yet I had taught Helaena well enough, had I not? I recalled, suddenly, a crystal clear memory of her writing out her wobbly numbers on a blackboard as I watched, proud of how easily she had grasped it. I swallowed thickly and took a gulp of wine. Laenor’s hand found my free one and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. He had not minded my grief, he had not minded holding me, and not for the first time I wondered what I had done to earn that gentleness from him.

“I will be fine,” I told him, forcing myself to let the memory go. I could not afford to grieve here and now, not in public, not if my goal was to tempt people from Aegon’s grasp. He gave me another smile and released my hand.

“If it helps,” said Alan, after a moment. “I was always horrible at my sums too. I fear I will be more used to you as a sword than a coin counter, Your Grace.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” I told him and he looked surprised for a moment, then nodded.

“Rhaenyra,” he said, as if the name was strange and unfamiliar. “I am honoured. Please, call me Alan.”

“I, of course, am still Ser Laenor,” said Laenor, barely containing his smile. I snorted and elbowed him in the ribs. Was he playing the clown for my benefit?

“Pay no mind to my husband,” I told him. “His true title is Court Jester.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a delighted smile as Laenor sputtered in mock outrage at the comment. It was nice, I realised. We hadn’t joked like this for a long time. Not since before Viserys’ birth, that I could recall. The knowledge made me want to lapse into melancholy again as I recalled Helaena and I’s promise to have Rhaekar and Viserys grow up as siblings. What had changed? What had she seen? Surely not every future in which we remained close resulted in her death?

“My wife is cruel,” said Laenor, taking my hand again. “How am I to put up with this?”

“We must all ask ourselves that one day, Laenor,” said Alan, grinning. “I find hunting helps.”

Something about the way he said it…

“Oh?” I asked. “Tell me more. My daughters will soon turn two and ten and wish for nothing more than to take part in their first true hunt. They have ridden with one before on ponies, of course, but now they wish to ride themselves.”

“My son is the same,” Alan told me. “There will be a hunt soon enough, I believe. Lord Lyonel enjoys the pageantry of them, even if he can only watch from the horse of his guard. Perhaps we should join them for your girl’s nameday? Lord Alan wanted to go regardless, I think?”

I was right, then.

“It would not hurt to trail them. Getting involved would likely spoil their fun, no?” I said and Alan nodded, eyes shining in amusement. 

“We could chat more about my dear father and the times we have each moved him to tears.” Something told me that we would not be discussing Lyman’s disappointment in our maths skills.

“A fine suggestion, Alan,” I said warmly. “Tell me, have any other lords gotten their hands on some amusing tales of our loyal Master of Coin?”

“Lord Osgrey might,” mused Alan, looking delighted. “He and I have been talking of late, and Lord Alan found his tales amusing enough. I have no doubt they would delight you.”

Well. Well, well, well.


	230. The Reach - Chapter 200

The smack of wood on wood greeted me as I stepped through the Tyrell’s impressive Godswood. No heart tree, not for something so close to the centre of the Andal faith, but the trees that cast me half into shadow were beautiful and old weirwoods. One could almost believe it had been the legendary Garth Greenhand that had planted them. I wondered when they’d gotten rid of the heart tree… I turned my attention back to the children sat about, watched over by a diverse array of knights.

Lyonel Tyrell, my children, Aliandra, a couple of the Florents, Rolph Reyne and, shockingly enough, Viserra. My sister was wedged between Aemma and Rhaena, looking oh so uncomfortable, but definitely present. It set my heart aching dully all over again and so I forced myself to look away. Rolph was in the process of duelling Jocelyn. The fight looked to be hard fought, although I still knew little of such affairs. He paused for a moment when he saw me watching and Jocelyn put him in the dirt, much to the amusement of the surrounding children.

“I was distracted,” he grumbled as he rose.

“Liar,” laughed Jocelyn. “I won fair and square, now admit I’m better.”

“Jocelyn,” I said quietly and enjoying the moment when she seemed to leap a few feet into the air in surprise. “I did not raise a sore winner. Be gracious in victory.”

Rolph spluttered with laughter as she whirled to face me, looking slightly guilty.

“Yes, mama,” she said finally. I refrained from reaching out and brushing the hair from her face. Something told me she would not appreciate the gesture.

“That being said, you did very well.” At my praise, she beamed. “As did you, Rolph.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, bowing. I blinked in surprise as Jocelyn giggled and Rolph blushed to the roots of his hair. “Sorry, Rhaenyra. I forgot.”

“Think nothing of it. It seems I have hardly seen you since we began travelling.” At my moving on, he seemed to slump in relief.

“Ser Laenor has been keeping me busy, Rhaenyra,” he told me proudly. Then he glanced at my daughter. “So has Jo. She’s a very good sparring partner.”

“So did the five days you spent in the Maester’s tower in Sunspear,” called Alys from her position next to Aliandra on the grass. He blushed again and I sighed, internally. It was true the boy had managed a truly heroic sunburn, all angry red and peeling skin. Still, Alys did not need to bring it up here. I gave her a cool look and she blanched, seemingly realising what had just come out of her mouth. Aliandra came to the rescue and shoved her over into the grass.

“It happens to us all, lad,” said Gyles Yronwood, not two feet from where his charge was now under attack from Alys. “At least you were sensible enough to get help. I’ve known men to scar through sheer stubbornness.”

“Thank you, Ser Gyles,” said Rolph, still such a crimson red that I was beginning to worry.

“Mind you,” said Gyles thoughtfully, “I know a fair few ladies that have a thing for scars.”

That earned a few laughs even from the Tyrell and Florent men, no mean feat for a Dornish knight, I supposed. Still, perhaps it was best to put an end to the conversation. I gave him a look and he smiled. He was a handsome man, really, although not to my tastes. He was, or so the rumour went, very much to the tastes of Morra Yronwood. His words had provided the excuse of his banishment, but he’d sealed his fate the moment he’d laid with his brother’s wife.

“Forgive me for interrupting your gathering,” I said to the assembled children, letting the matter drop. “But I need to retrieve my son.”

At that, Aemon leapt to his feet from his position next to Lyonel and scurried over, looking curious. 

“Good day to you all!” I said cheerfully as he reached me. “Ah, and if you want a break Rolph, I would suggest pitting Aliandra against Jocelyn next.”

I left before said girl could escape from Alys’ attempt to wind grass into her hair, Aemon at my heels. I could almost feel his want to ask me why I had called him away. When I looked down, he was staring at me.

“You are my cupbearer, are you not?” I asked. His eyes widened and he smiled.

“Yes, mama!” he said, a little louder than he’d meant to, I suspect.

“I have a meeting scheduled. You are to observe, and I mean _observe_. No speaking. Pour wine for myself, your papa and Lord Desmond when asked, but other than that, you are not there, understood?” At that, he looked a little more unsure.

“I do,” he said, looking as if he wanted to pout but was actively stopping himself.

“I am merely laying down expectations,” I told him gently. “This will be more formal once we return to the capital.”

“How so?” he asked. 

“Right now, it benefits me to have little oversight over you. You are proving yourself a worthy heir independent of me. That will change when we go home. It will become about learning, rather than appearances.” He nodded, still looking puzzled. Ah well, no doubt he’d receive the same lecture from both Joffrey and Laenor before long. “I do advise you to pay attention to all sides of the conversation. You have learnt much from Joffrey and myself, now is the time to start practising those skills.”

“I will,” he promised. “Should I work harder at befriending Lyonel?”

That made me hum with thought as we exited the Godswood and made our way over a gravel path to the keep where Laenor awaited us. Beautiful flower beds and immaculate hedges passed us.

“Keep at it, but don’t push it,” I advised. “Push it too hard and he may back away.”

“Yes, mama,” he replied. We both lapsed into a comfortable silence and didn’t speak again until we’d entered the keep and found Laenor waiting for us, an anxious look on his face. 

“Don’t fret yourself into a bad mood,” I warned him as I took his outstretched arm.

“That’s easy for you to say,” he almost sulked. “I do not like this.”

“As I disliked doing so with our eldest once upon a time,” I replied quietly. He pulled a face.

“This is different,” he insisted. “She is not like Aemon, Alyssa or Jocelyn. They are tough. Aemma is…”

“Remarkably stubborn and possessing her very own dragon,” I cut in. “Or do you forget our daughter is hard headed enough to give me a run for my money.”

At that, he laughed, although he tried to hide it.

“Fine, fine,” he admitted. “I am fretting. It just… it feels different with her.”

There was not long to dwell on that before we arrived at the office of Lord Desmond Florent, regent of Lyonel Tyrell and de facto Lord of Highgarden and ruler of the Reach. The knight waiting outside gave us a stern nod before announcing us.

The first thought I had when I entered the office proper was that… well, it was a bit much, in truth. The walls draped with the Tyrell and Florent coat of arms, gold leaf on anything that you could reasonably manage to work it into. A large chair upholstered in green and gold, a massive weirwood desk, myrish carpets and a set of beautiful but impractical armour on a stand in the corner, its helm shaped like a fox head. It was as if the owner had merely searched for the most expensive items he could find and didn’t care to see that there was any kind of theme or colour scheme at all. 

“Your Grace!” trilled Lord Desmond, giving me a respectful bow as he hastened out from behind his desk. “Ser Laenor! Thank you so much for accepting my humble invitation. Ah! And young Prince Aemon, what an honour.”

Aemon bowed respectfully and gave his greetings, earning himself an indulgent smile.

“Aemon will be acting as my cupbearer if you do not mind. It is preparation for our return to the capital, when I will announce it officially,” I told Lord Desmond. The man smiled indulgently once more and made his way back to his seat.

“Not at all, Your Grace,” he said as we sat. “I shall call for some wine, then?”

“Thank you, Lord Desmond,” said Laenor, his hand finding mine. We made small talk as we waited for the wine, and for a suitably obliging servant to quickly demonstrate how to properly pour it to Aemon. Mostly, we spoke of Highgarden, the weather, news from the capital and other such meaningless pleasantries. Finally, with wine poured, we sat back and Lord Desmond wasted little to no time.

“I wish to discuss this council business,” he stated. Laenor tensed slightly but I ignored him and sipped at my wine instead. Arbor Gold, a particularly fine vintage at that.

“It is quite simple, Lord Desmond. My brother calls for one, but my father will never agree,” I explained.

“And you do not worry he will agitate for one after your coronation?” asked Desmond, flicking some ginger hair that had fallen over his eyes away.

“Then I will be Queen,” I said. “I think we can all agree it would be rather an odd thing to call a council to settle the succession after I have been crowned.”

“True,” murmured Desmond. “Yet there is the damnable period in between. When you have yet to be crowned, and the Seven Kingdoms will still mourn their late King.”

“It would take a true heartless monster to agitate for a council so against said King’s wishes, his father’s wishes, during the mourning period,” I told him. “Still, when men are desperate, they stoop to new lows. As I’m sure you could attest to.”

After all, the previous maester of Highgarden had been stabbed to death in a brothel, a desperate robbery gone wrong. At least, that was the official story. I believed it as much as I believed the story of Arabella’s death.

“I have heard that pride will not allow the boy to bow to you. This council, he thinks he would win it,” said Desmond cautiously. 

“He would not call it if he thought he had a chance of losing,” said Laenor, half making Desmond jump at finally speaking up. “He believes that the Black vote will be split between my wife and my son. He believes that alone will carry him to victory.”

“He may be right,” said Lord Desmond. “There are lords who bow to me who argue we should throw our support behind him.”

“Hightower gold sets their tongues wagging,” I said. “How long till those tongues call for a new Lord of the Reach?”

“Ormund Hightower already struts about the place as if he owns it,” said Laenor, leaning forward. “Take it from me, he is a remarkably unsubtle man.”

“I am aware,” said Desmond, grimacing as if he had just tasted something foul. “Lord Garmon has refused to rein his son’s behaviour in, despite my complaints.”

“Speak to Prince Aegon, in that case,” I informed him. “My brother is oh so very honourable. He would not take the insult lightly from someone he expects high standards from.”

Lord Desmond raised an eyebrow before smiling.

“You mean to set them bickering amongst one another?” he asked. “If it stops that dastard hauling that blade around in a blatant insult to both House Tyrell and House Florent, I may consider it.”

I held my goblet out and Aemon came forward, pouring wine with a shaky hand but managing not to send it all over either of us.

“House Hightower is already making its stance on the matter of the Reach obvious,” I told Desmond. “My brother will not interfere to support your rights should worse come to worse.”

“He is proud of his stance,” said Laenor. “He is proud of his ‘hands off’ nature.”

“I admit, many lords would find the stance that Prince Aegon takes seductive, but House Tyrell does not. Can not,” admitted Desmond. “My goodbrother was… not a good ruler although he was a good man. He left Highgarden weak. Lyonel is a boy, and whilst I pray King Viserys has many years left in him, I do not see him establishing himself before this matter comes to boil.”

“A royal princess and her dragon would do much to strengthen his power here,” Laenor offered. Desmond’s eyes gleamed for a moment and I heard Aemon’s hastily silenced gasp from behind me.

“I am afraid he is promised,” said Lord Florent quickly. “A distant cousin of mine. He is well fond of the girl and she of him. They are well matched.”

“I see,” I said, making a show of sounding saddened by the news. In truth, it was completely expected. Lord Desmond would not want to relinquish power so quickly when Lyonel obtained his majority.

“Still, that is not to say some sort of marriage alliance can not be forged.” The man’s entire demeanour had changed. Now, it seemed as if he positively oozed slime from his position behind the desk and I could feel Laenor’s sudden desire to be anywhere but here. He took a long gulp of his wine and held the goblet out. Aemon came forward, studiously avoiding eye contact and poured more. Laenor drank again the moment our son retreated.

“Truly?” I asked when it seemed Laenor would say nothing more. “How so?”

“My son,” said Desmond quickly. “He and Lyonel are fast friends and bound by blood. A fine husband for little Aemma, no? A fine father to future dragon riders.”

A fine husband at eight years her senior, I thought darkly. And the way he had said the word dragon…

“I have heard good things about him,” I lied. “And Laenor has seen him at the yards. An impressive warrior in the making!”

Average if he put effort in, and Laenor had not predicted him putting effort in. The boy’s true love was math and history, according to all that knew him. At least that might endear him to Aemma? I supposed he would make a competent commander of men if pushed, but… ah well.

“I thank you for the praise,” said Desmond warmly, all but preening in front of us. “Of course, should they marry, there are many things to discuss-”

“We have yet to decide on the betrothal,” I chuckled, the amusement sounding forced. Laenor merely sipped his wine.

“Ah, of course, my apologies,” he murmured, settling back into his seat. “I am getting ahead of myself. Excitement, you see, for the benefits we could bring one another if we should ally together.”

“Indeed,” I replied. I was beginning to realise that this man wanted one thing out of us and it wasn’t even the prestige of a royal match. 

“Of course, I must send my son to the capital before they wed. House Florent must know everything needed to house a dragon. I shall not have us losing it due to some lack of knowledge!” He meant it as a joke, of course, yet in that instant, he killed any chance of getting his royal marriage.


	231. The Reach - Chapter 201

Alan had not been at all exaggerating when he’d said Lyonel loved pageantry in his hunts. I’m not quite sure I had ever attended one so bright and colourful and… busy. My daughters were ecstatic, of course. All it had taken was off handedly mentioning a hunt occurring the day after their nameday and they’d been unable to contain themselves. Gods, wasn’t that a thought. Both twelve. Where had the time gone? It seemed I’d blinked and they’d sprouted up.

Aliandra too, now that I thought about it. My ward was riding with Alys whilst Rolph and Jocelyn rode alongside each other, chattering with barely concealed excitement. Almost on the edges of that little group were Laena, Laenor and Aemon - all three chatting away, although I would admit to having no clue what about. Aemon seemed relatively happy, though. He had informed me, very seriously over a private breakfast, that he would be doing his best to get even closer to Lyonel Tyrell on this hunt. Joffrey had congratulated him for the forward thinking scheme and the whole thing had devolved into a fond bickering between him and Laenor about bad influences on our son.

A small way away were Viserra, Rhaena and Aemma. The ‘I don’t want to be outside’ club, from the looks of it. Each sat on their ponies looking thoroughly miserable at the whole matter. Well, Aemma and Viserra were, anyway. Rhaena looked as if she was trying to be miserable in solidarity but couldn’t quite stop her gaze from shooting this way and that as she took in bright banners, knights, men at arms, hunting dogs and every other soul that had managed to tag along. I caught her eye and smiled warmly. She gave me a little wave, smiling briefly before trying to look solemn again and failing.

“Perhaps I should have brought Viserys with me,” I mused aloud, running my hand over the coat of my borrowed mare. She shifted and nickered, as if expecting I might have a treat ready for her.

“He would have enjoyed it for all of five minutes,” said Joffrey. “Then he would have wailed the forest down. This is a business trip, remember?”

“Spoil sport,” I told him, tone teasing, and he smiled.

“I have made it my mission to ruin fun wherever I see it,” he told me, voice deadpan. “Or I have if you listen to Rhaena, anyway.”

I laughed and let the matter drop as he smiled again, looking pleased with himself. Then his smile died as my brother appeared, Helaena riding alongside him with his Hightower kin trailing them. Ormund, in particular, looked as if he had tasted something particularly foul. And his sword was not on his hip. I tried to feel amusement at that, but my heart would not let me. Helaena looked even worse, if I was being honest. Some part of me wanted to march up to Aegon and demand what the hell he thought he was playing at by doing anything other than locking her in her rooms and plying her with food. Instead, I turned and mounted up, taking much longer than necessary. It was not my business, not anymore.

I had almost convinced myself of such a fact when Lyonel and his Florent escort finally made their appearances, Lyonel firmly ensconced in front of a Tyrell knight, his face alight in wonder at the hunt arrayed before him. I smiled at that, aware that it was indulgent. He and Aemma, I had a feeling they would have made a good pair. I peered around again as the various greetings and pleasantries were exchanged. It did not surprise me so many had come, if I was honest. I rather suspected that the ‘small tourney to celebrate your arrival, nameday and the nameday of your daughters’ was going to be anything but small, and this hunt was just a prelude to that.

Which reminded me, I had yet to approach Desmond Florent on the subject of Jocelyn’s involvement as a squire. Whilst he could not stop her acting as Ser Steffon’s squire, he could prevent her from entering the squires’ melee. My eyes sought my daughter out again, she and Rolph laughing uproariously at some joke Gyles Yronwood had just told them. The Stormlands had been just a hint at the disapproval she could receive, and that had been tempered by the complete acceptance of it by the Dornish. Joffrey had already informed me of some rising discontent among those lords and ladies that had noticed her practising.

“What are you brooding on now?” asked Joffrey, whose own eyes were wandering the crowd.

“Jocelyn,” I replied easily. “I worry for her.”

Joffrey smiled. “For the hunt? You needn’t bother, Laena will be with her and Laenor will be following Alys.” 

“You are doing this on purpose,” I sighed, as movement up ahead indicated that it was time. Joffrey laughed.

“I am,” he cheerfully admitted. “Come, we must focus. Our friend may find us at any point. You will put him off if you spend the entire time with that expression.”

“Someone is in high spirits today! Has anyone ever told you that you're quite the charmer like this?” I asked, dryly. Joffrey smiled again.

“Your Grace, you wound me with your words.” Oh good gods, he really was in a good mood today. What had gotten into him? Musing on that mystery would have to wait as the hunt began in earnest, Lyonel riding ahead with Alyssa and Aemon flanking him. I would admit to being impressed at the almost natural inclusion of Aliandra, even if some of those knights were letting their feelings show when directed at Gyles. Jocelyn and Rolph were closer to Laenor as Laena dropped back to watch our daughters and Viserra. I could not see Aegon amidst the mass of people and wondered if he had set his own men to keeping an eye on her or if he had abandoned his sister to the mercy of the hunt.

It did not take long for groups to begin breaking away from Lyonel’s main convoy. The forest that was the normal hunting grounds of the Tyrell family was vaster than I would have thought, given the Reach’s extensive farmland. Joffrey and I stayed back though, giving the excuse of Joffrey’s leg to any that questioned us on such. That and Ser Steffon’s scowling soon meant we were relatively alone but for our knights.

And not long after the sun was high in the sky, visible even through the boughs of the trees overhead, Ser Alan Beesbury appeared, leading Ser Joffrey Osgrey straight to us. The man himself was not much to look at. He was short and wide with a florid complexion. His bow was awkward at best and when Alan began making the introductions, Ser Joffrey could barely stop himself from fidgeting with anything he could feasibly reach.

“I hope the day finds you well, Lord Osgrey,” I said warmly after the introductions were over and done with. He did not look as if the day found him well. He was sweating and nervous, his eyes shooting this way and that. I half-wondered if he were grey due to age or sheer anxiousness before banishing the thought as unworthy of me.

“Well enough,” he muttered back, unable to look more suspicious to any observers if he tried.

“Lord Joffrey tells such wonderful tales, Rhaenyra, you simply must listen to the one he has of father, Ellyn Redwyne and the tourney of Tumbleton,” laughed Alan Beesbury, sending Joffrey redder and redder. Mentally, I sighed before fixing him with a smile again.

“Do tell! Lyman has enough tales of my youth, I wish to return the favour in the capital,” I told him. The poor man looked thoroughly miserable at the attention, eyes fixed on his house for a while before he finally spoke.

“If it pleases you, Your Grace, my family has not held lordship in living memory,” he sighed, voice low. 

“Unjustly taken, by all accounts,” I told him. “Maegor was a tyrant, no true king.”

He tried not to look surprised at that and failed. I cursed my great grandfather again. To rule that Maegor was Aenys’ successor- I stopped that line of thought. I would break from that narrative when I was crowned. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but the punishment of House Osgrey was ruled on by Jaehaerys himself.” I thought something uncharitable at Jaehaerys again.

“Forgive me, Lord Osgrey, but I do not accept that. We could debate on the matter until the end of days, however, and I suspect that as much as Lyonel loves hunts, he does not love them that much.” For the first time since we had met, Joffrey Osgrey smiled.

“My grandfather spoke up against Maegor’s Law and was punished by having his lordship seized and our long and noble line relegated second to some upjumped knight who was in Maegor’s good graces that day,” he complained. “That House Webber sits in our ancestral home is an insult. An insult that no one seems to wish to address.”

“Thaddeus is a good man,” I told him, recalling the man that had… insistently… courted me throughout my teenage years and spent my entire marriage ceremony shooting my mournful, heartbroken looks. “I will bring the matter up with him.”

Osgrey smiled and I reflected suddenly that it was not a nice smile.

“I do not come to you, Your Grace, with my hands outstretched and nothing in turn. I am no beggar.” He shifted suddenly and retrieved a small pouch from his saddle bag. Joffrey took it from him and I half jumped at the realisation he and Alan were still there. We rode on in silence as Joffrey opened the pouch and examined its contents.

“Where did this come from?” asked Joffrey finally, after a few minutes of silence.

“My father made it his life’s mission to restore Coldmoat to its true owners,” said Lord Joffrey. “He installed many loyal to him. Edwyn is clever, but has not half the wiles my father did. There are still those loyal to House Osgrey in Coldmoat yet.”

“Including the maester, by the looks of it.” I gave Joffrey a questioning look and he held up the pouch. “Communication between Lord Edwyn Webber and Lord Garmon Hightower. It seems Webber wants out from under the thumb of House Rowan, and is willing to betray their liege lords for such an opportunity.”

I whistled in surprise at that as Lord Joffrey looked triumphant.

“Lord Thaddeus Rowan is a true knight, one who remembers his oaths,” he said. “Lord Edwyn Webber would see him dead or worse, through betrayal no less! Well, what can you expect from a house born from Maegor’s cruelty.”

“Indeed,” I replied. Lord Joffrey suddenly seemed to remember something and glanced down at his saddle.

“I must beg your apologies, Your Grace,” he began. “I swore false oaths to Hightower so as to learn his intentions. It was how I discovered Webber was speaking with them.”

I read between the lines. Either Garmon Hightower had dropped his talks with Osgrey the moment he’d found a better option in sabotaging Lord Rowan, or he had been unwilling to fulfil Osgrey’s request for Coldmoat the moment Webber had made his interest clear. I tapped out a beat on the saddle for a moment, thinking. Osgrey had been obvious in his leanings towards Aegon in the beginning, Webber had likely begun hedging his bets then. Was the man sneaky enough to attempt to play both sides? Under myself, by following his liege lord, nothing was like to change unless of course, the Greens won and Osgrey got his wish. Under the Greens, Osgrey would be denied his wish and as far as he knew, I was unlikely to indulge Osgrey given his previous Green leanings, especially when Webber was still pretending to be Black.

Unless, of course, proof was brought to me of his betrayal and Osgrey got his wish regardless. How interesting.

“Of course, Joffrey here will have to investigate your information himself,” I told him after thinking on the matter for a few minutes. Lord Joffrey nodded.

“I completely understand.” His confidence told me Joffrey would likely find out Webber was Green. He would not be so confident if these papers were forgeries, I was quite sure. He was still sweating away in his saddle just from the meeting alone. “If such information does prove to be true… I will ensure justice is done, Lord Osgrey.”

Lord Joffrey’s eyes lit up in glee at that and he smiled again.

“Thank you, Joffrey,” said Alan. “You’ve done us a great service. Let me know if you hear of any other interesting tales, yes?”

“I will! I swear it, I swear it on my honour as a knight and I swear it on the chance to one day regain Coldmoat. From this day forth, I am Princess Rhaenyra’s man,” he promised. 

“Do so quietly,” said my Joffrey. “We have Lord Alan Tarly for loud.”

Alan Beesbury laughed softly to himself at that and even Lord Osgrey managed another grin.

“I confess the man has a reputation,” he admitted. “I will do as you think best and confine my Black connection to Ser Alan alone.”

“Thank you, Lord Joffrey,” I said warmly. “Now, tell me, does this tale of Lord Lyman actually exist? Because if it does, I simply must hear it.”

It did exist, as it turned out. And it was worth the wait.


	232. The Reach - Chapter 202

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the missed update, I was sick!

“Absolutely not, Your Grace,” stammered Lord Desmond, eyes wide at the idea that I would even ask him such a thing. “It is not proper at all!”

Behind me, I could almost feel the air of Jocelyn’s palpable disappointment, as well as Ser Steffon’s glare at the man. I bit back a sigh and instead smiled.

“That is your prerogative, Lord Desmond. I thank you for hearing my request.” He was still looking at me in surprise and bewilderment. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker to the two behind me as if he suspected he were the butt of a joke and was waiting for the laughter to start. As if a girl participating in the Squire’s Melee were such a far-fetched idea. I turned to my daughter who was trying to hide her grief at his decision as valiantly as any knight but still failing.

“I am sorry, Jocelyn,” I told her and she swallowed and nodded. Ser Steffon gave me a sympathetic look before laying his hand on her shoulder.

“Come, you are still to play my squire when I ride, Jocelyn. You were warned this was a possibility.” Lord Desmond shifted behind me, no doubt thinking furiously on how to disallow her from even that. He couldn’t, of course. The squire was the choice of the knight and short of banning Jocelyn from the grounds, the host would not interfere in such a decision.

“Yes, Ser. I understand,” Jocelyn replied, her voice surprisingly strong. I smiled. She was a warrior. She would overcome this. Overcome any obstacle in her way.

“Your papa is giving Aemon and Rolph a lesson in the training yards. Perhaps you can catch the tail end of that?” I suggested. 

“Yes,” said Ser Steffon quickly. “Let’s head to the yards. The young prince has been struggling with his footwork recently and you would serve an excellent demonstration.”

That perked her up and I turned back to Desmond as they left.

“My apologies for interrupting your day, my lord.” He waved his hand, managing to rearrange his surprise into graciousness, at least.

“I am at your service, Your Grace,” he murmured. “Princess Aemma is not so inclined… is she?”

“She would have to pry herself from the library first,” I told him dryly and his sigh of relief only furthered my determination that he would not get his hands on my daughter.

“Of course, yes, she seems the quiet type,” he replied, smiling now. 

“No daughter of mine is the quiet type,” I told him shortly. “Good day, my lord.”

I left him musing on that statement, his worried look coming back over his features. Highgarden was alive all around me. Men from every corner of the Reach, all ready to compete in the Grand Tourney. I was still confused exactly, at whom this tourney was supposed to celebrate. Myself and my nameday, which was frighteningly close? My daughters, newly turned twelve? My very presence, or even Aegon and Helaena’s? I shook my head and decided fresh air would suit me well.

I would be thirty one soon. Wasn’t that a thought…

“Ser Alric,” I said, stopping suddenly. Luckily, the knight was used enough to my antics. “Tell me, where is Ser Joffrey?”

I suddenly needed a friend. Someone I could grouse to.

“I am unsure, Your Grace,” replied the knight. “Perhaps Ser Laenor would know?”

Which meant the training yards. I suppose it would not hurt to check in on Aemon anyway. He had been distant these last few days, focused on Lyonel Tyrell. The old worry that he was wasting his childhood, that he would regret such a thing in the years to come, came back and made me restless. Set me to feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. Especially now Daemon was making his move. No news from Lys yet. He would not reach them for a long time yet. I had time, I kept reminding myself. I had time. I could not sacrifice my time in the Reach as I had been able to do in Dorne. I could not forget about Aegon in favour of fighting Daemon.

The training yards were as busy as I predicted. Laenor had his own little corner though, Ser Steffon by his side as each called out instructions to their charges. It seemed even Aegon’s Green Knights dared not intrude upon their little bubble of heaven. I snorted at that thought. Aegon’s Green Knights. I had seen a few in the Stormlands, young men with their heads in the clouds, so convinced that the ground Aegon walked on was blessed by the Seven themselves. So convinced that they alone were right, champions of justice fighting against an unfair world.

In the Reach, everywhere I looked I saw his hangers on. Those that wanted to be him. What annoyed me more, I wondered as I picked my way over to my husband. That so many sought to use my brother and his cause to their own ends? Or that so many believed it was right and proper and that there was nothing underhanded about his actions? 

“Rhaenyra,” said Laenor as I reached them, my brow no doubt furrowed. I let him drop a kiss to my cheek and then leaned into his brief hug. That made him pause. “Are you well?”

“Well enough,” I replied. “My mind wanders and I was hoping to find Joffrey.”

“Ah,” he said. “I am afraid he’s on some sort of mission in town today. Or so I’m led to believe.”

I groaned in frustration and he wrapped an awkward arm about me again.

“Perhaps you can find some distraction here?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure a distraction is what I need,” I murmured. “It all seems… it’s too much. My brother, Daemon, Desmond - we did so much and it all seems like nothing.”

“Not so, and you would be saying the same were your mood not so dark. Come, I know better than to let you wallow like this. Let us have a sit down and Rolph and Jocelyn can show us all how far they have come as squires.” At that, he caught Ser Steffon’s eye and my white knight nodded once. Did he see it as his duty to protect me from my moods as well? I raised a hand to my face and rubbed at my eyes. Gods, I sounded like a whining child.

“My apologies,” I said finally. “I would love to see a duel between the two. One without distractions this time.”

Rolph laughed as Jocelyn shifted, her cheeks flushing red. Then she smiled a little when I caught her eye and smiled. I accepted being herded to the side, Aemon wedged under one arm and Laenor taking possession of the other as Rolph and Jocelyn began their duel under Steffon’s expert eye. Two squires duelling with practice swords was about as impressive as it sounded, but I still found my mood lifting a little. 

Rolph won but I fancied it was a close run thing. Under Steffon’s strict tutelage my daughter had improved in leaps and bounds and by the man’s own admittance, she was driven even outside of her sanctioned practises. She might not be the type to sit down and read, or excel in academic pursuits, or even be the most polite of my children, but I fancied she’d be the best with the blade one day. I glanced down and found Aemon frowning at his sister, who was teasing Rolph over something. The boy may be older, but he had yet to grow immune to her poking fun at him.

“Aemon?” I asked. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing, mama,” he lied and then glanced up, saw my disbelief and then looked down. “Mama… am I like uncle Aegon?”

“Uncle Aegon,” I repeated slowly. “In what way?”

“That… I like being your heir, mama, and I want to be the best king I can be. But…” Ah. I glanced around, noting which knights among Aegon’s men still watched us as Steffon corrected Jocelyn’s stance and Laenor ruffled Rolph’s hair.

“Has someone been saying things to you?” I asked quietly. His ears went red at those words.

“Not to me,” he insisted. “But people do say… you are heir, so why shouldn’t Jocelyn be your heir. Why me? Why… why not be like the Dornish?”

“It is a difficult answer,” I replied slowly, catching his shoulders and making him look at me, rather than his own shoes. “One not best answered in the training yards.”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“No,” I told him sternly. “No apologies. You need not apologise for questioning this, not when I have never given you an answer of any kind.”

I pursed my lips as his ears went redder.

“Perhaps I should gather you all,” I murmured. “Tell you all. Get it out of the way… Jocelyn has to be wondering as well, hm?”

His stricken expression told me the truth.

“Very well,” I said. “The next time we have some privacy and the whole family gathered together, we will speak of the succession.”

“Yes, mama,” he said. “I am sorry, though.”

I opened my mouth and he shook his head and my heart wanted to break open at the frown on his face. So deep, so thoughtful for one so young. Had I caused this? Had my own moods influenced them all? More guilt. Was this what parenthood was? Realising too late you’d managed to mess something up? Then I stopped those thoughts dead. I was doing it again. Sulking, brooding. Moving from the present to my own head and not giving it the attention I needed to pay it.

“You are not your uncle,” I told him finally. “The situation is very different, I assure you, no matter how similar it appears on the surface.”

For a moment, I might have added ‘… your father never slept with Daemon Targaryen, for one.’ And then I stopped myself because it was not only in bad taste but if such a comment were to get back to Aegon… he would never leave me alone until he learned the truth of the matter. Could I prove such an accusation? Would father back me up? Would I even need him to or would Aegon believe me? What was worse, telling him and not being believed or telling him and having it not matter? If I saved such a revelation for when it was expedient, would it even sunder him from alicent again? 

Was it possible he already knew? Would Otto have told his brother of his daughter’s shame? Would they know the rumours that had circulated the capital to be true? Damn it all, father should have done this years ago. 

“It isn’t?” asked Aemon, then he looked thoughtful. “Because you do not share a mother with Aegon?”

“That is… closer to the truth than you know,” I replied, feeling awkward. “Did I ever tell you of my mother?”

“A little!” he said, eyes bright now that we had moved on from painful topics. “You said she was very beautiful and that she would read to you every night, like you read for us.”

“She loved reading,” I told him. “She loved learning, and finding new tales… she was much like your sister in that regard. She also loved hawking and riding. She had this beautiful bird… a gift from her brother, I think. Even my father envied that bird.”

“If you tell Aemma, maybe she would start doing something more than read,” said Aemon slyly, only to go red when I directed a raised eyebrow at him.

“Aemma doesn’t like much of the outdoors,” I told him. 

“She doesn’t like bugs,” said Aemon. “She likes the outside fine when there aren’t any bugs in it.”

“Mmmhmmm,” I hummed and he poked my cheek in annoyance. “She’s also scared of the birds.”

“True,” he mumbled. “Why be scared of them, though? She isn’t scared of Dreamfyre! Or even Morrigan, and Morrigan snaps at everything!”

“Hey!” called Jocelyn, frowning at us both. “Morrigan doesn’t snap!”

“She does, little one,” I told her and her frown deepened. “But she isn’t as dangerous as that would imply. You have done well in training her, given her natural aggression.”

My daughter half smiled, looking as if she wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.

“We were talking about Aemma, Jo,” said Aemon and she relaxed a little, drifting over and looking curious.

“Is she being a horror?” she asked. “I thought she promised not to.”

“I was hoping mama would trick her into hawking,” Aemon giggled and Jocelyn smirked.

“She isn’t afraid of the birds, Aemon,” she said very smugly. “She just tells people that so they won’t invite her to go.”

I sighed. “Sometimes I worry about that girl.”

Jocelyn shrugged.

“She’s happy, mama, and she is still a baby, really. I’m sure when she grows up she won’t read so much.” The attempt at reassurance was not very reassuring.

“I will keep an eye on her. I do not want her to end up like the last rider of that dragon she chose.” Jocelyn shrugged again, her attention already wandering back to Steffon, her father and Rolph.

“She won’t,” promised Aemon. “I’ll look after her. I promise.”

“What a wonderful older brother you are,” I told him, pulling him close for an awkward half hug. “Listen to us both, speaking as if the situation were so dire. She has Rhaena, yes? And that wonderfully stubborn personality of hers. Do not bother her overly much, Aemon.”

He smiled.

“She also has Shadow.” I tried not to shudder at the mention of The Cat.

“Yes, she also has him,” I agreed. 

“Unless he tries to murder you again and you make him into a hat.” The impish note in his tone told me he’d managed to overhear my complaints about the damn creature at some point. 

“Aemon,” I said sternly, which only set him to laughing so hard he had to sit down.


	233. The Reach - Chapter 203

A cheer rose from the stadium as my white knight’s lance struck true and his opponent barely managed to keep himself in the saddle. More luck than skill, even I could tell that. Aegon’s Green Knight, a minor Oakheart cousin, would not last another round. I could not deny a slight smugness chasing that thought. Aegon had not entered, and that thought worried me, try as I might to ignore those feelings. Joffrey had been clear on that. Helaena was not an ally now. I could not spare my worry for her, not when Daemon himself was marching west and my brother openly plotted treason.

Perhaps that was a little far, I reflected, smiling as Jocelyn performed her duties as a squire below, handing Steffon his new lance. This morning had been a good one indeed. Woken by my children, each seemingly more excited than the last that I had turned thirty-one. Even Rhaena had joined them, supervised by Joffrey and Laena, and we had eaten our breakfast in my rooms. 

Of course, Laenor had to rush off soon after along with Rolph and Jocelyn, each with their own parts to play today. Laena and Fal had gone as well, with my lover complaining of an aching leg and my most formidable lady all but ready to carry her to her rooms. At least my dearest husband had made a good showing, having unhorsed three riders so far. There was another cheer as Steffon’s opponent hit the dirt. I clapped along as the children went wild in response. Even Aemon and Aliandra.

“Is Gyles competing, Aliandra?” I asked as they calmed down. “I have not seen him today.”

“Yes, Rhaenyra,” she replied, eyes flickering to me for politeness sake before returning to being glued to the scene below. “He said something about showing the Reach knights what a true Dornishman could do.”

I tried to hide my smile at that and failed.

“The Reach knights are the pinnacle of chivalry,” said Aemma, sounding as if she were reading from a book. Granted, she likely was.

“That’s what Gyles said too,” replied Aliandra, a little too glibly and Aemma’s face screwed up in confusion as I directed a raised eyebrow at my ward. She smiled slyly and turned her attention back to where two knights I could not place now rode against one another.

“Chivalry is important,” said Aemon, directing a bright smile at Aemma. “But skill is too. I think that is what Aliandra was saying.”

I had a feeling that Gyles hadn’t been half as polite, but Aemon had managed to sum it up well enough. Aemma’s face smoothed out and she shrugged before turning back to watch as both knights failed to unhorse the other and the crowd jeered and booed.

“Ser Gyles is right, then,” said Alys from her seat next to Sera and Sab. “A knight is nothing if he can not use his sword.”

“A knight ought to be chivalrous, though, or he’s no different from any man who can lift up a blade,” insisted Rhaena.

“You like your tales too much,” said Alys.

“And you sound like Uncle Aemond,” murmured Aemma, her voice carrying just far enough for Alys to bristle in response. I caught Sab’s eye and my lady rolled her eyes and cuffed Alys about the ear gently.

“Enough arguing, you two,” she said. “Besides, a true knight is skilled and virtuous in equal measure. If they neglect one for the other, then they are neglecting part of their knighthood.”

“Well spoken,” I said, hoping that it would end the debate. Sab smiled.

“That’s Forrest for you,” she said. “Bah, I miss the fool. What happened to my visits, hmm?”

That sent a twinge of guilt through me. I was unsure as to the precise reason Forrest had yet to meet us, but I had a sinking feeling it was something to do with the news from the east. Forrest may not be an integral part of our power in the capital but he was honest, reliable and apart from his unfortunate nickname, well regarded by this point as both a warrior and a man of honour.

I frowned. He had been Lord of the Twins in that other time. Yet here, he remained a simple second son. I could not understand why. I had assumed his brother would die before producing issue but he had two healthy boys and a multitude of daughters. Had I changed something? I did not see how, my influence in the Riverlands had been vanishingly small… I rubbed at my nose. If I had somehow done my good friend out of a ladyship, I would be annoyed indeed. Or was that cruel and callous of me? To wish death on a man and his family so that my friend could advance?

“You have a mighty scowl on your face,” asked Sera. “What is wrong?”

I paused, sparing a glance below us where Ormund Hightower was due to ride against a Leygood.

“I will take you with me back to King’s Landing, Sab,” I finally promised. She flushed red.

“No! Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf. I will see him soon enough, we were parted longer than this when he rode to war-” I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

“And your children?” Her guilty smile told me more than I needed. “I will take you. You can be the blade at my back, anyway.”

“Keeping you safe from bandits a ne'er-do-wells?” she asked. “That I can do.”

“She’ll also teach Jocelyn to fight dirty whilst she’s at it,” said Alys, earning herself another gentle cuff about the ear. I heard her laughing softly afterwards as Sab grinned at me. Below, Ormund Hightower triumphed and advanced.

“The girl needs a few tricks up her sleeve,” she said without a trace of shame. “And you should stop eavesdropping, young lady.”

“Not happening,” she replied and I sighed.

“Another one of my children that has been corrupted by their uncle.” Said uncle studiously ignored us all. He had been in some kind of mood since returning yesterday and though he had hidden it reasonably well this morning, he clearly wasn’t in the mood for joking. I disliked the intense look in his eyes. Another bout of wild cheering rose from the crowd and I glanced back as the words became clearer and clearer.

_Prince Aegon! Prince Aegon! Princess Helaena! Prince Aegon!_

I grit my teeth and smiled as they came into view. Not heading to the Tyrell box, thankfully, but to where Garmon Hightower sat, surrounded by fawning lords, watching over the festivities as if he were king of them all and not some nasty, twisted gargoyle. At least Helaena looked somewhat improved. She had clearly put a little weight on and there was colour in her cheeks. I glanced down at my children, all craning their heads to get a better look at their uncle. They knew something had occurred between Helaena and I, they could not fail to after chasing me about on Syrax for half a day, but they did not know what.

“Aunt Hela looks better,” Aemon ventured after a moment. I bit my lip.

“Indeed she does,” said Sera for me. “Now settle down. Your father will be riding next.”

“No, not next, the one after that,” said Joffrey absent-mindedly. Even sulking, he had memorised Laenor’s matches. “I suspect he’ll win handily. That knight’s a bit fond of drink.”

That made me pause. What an interesting observation.

“Drink has brought many knights low,” I said blandly and Joffrey smiled for a moment. I sighed internally. I wanted to tell him that if Laenor found out he’d strangle him, but by this point I knew that unless Joffrey or I revealed it, Laenor would not find out because Laenor would not go looking for such truths. 

“Father doesn’t need to face a drunk to win,” said Aemma, sounding more offended than I have ever heard and wearing the same look she had when she told me of her desire for a dragon. “He is the most gallant knight here!”

Joffrey blinked and then smiled, the most genuine one I’d seen on his face in a long time.

“Of course he is,” he said warmly to Aemma. “There has never been a more gallant knight. Except me, of course.”

Aemma’s face screwed up again as Rhaena giggled in delight and shuffled onto her father’s knee, nearly knocking his stick flying in the process. We watched two more relatively unknown knights tilt in companionable silence.

“What are they still cheering his name?” asked Alys after a moment, disgust in her voice. “He is not even riding.”

She was right. I could still hear it here and there, the chant breaking out irregularly among the crowd of smallfolk. Garmon’s doing? Or a natural expression of Aegon’s popularity here? Was this why Joffrey was interfering? I could see it being done to prevent a Green win and the renown Aegon would win by association. Gods, I hoped he’d arranged something nasty for Ormund. I tapped out a beat on the arm of the chair and tried not to hear them calling his and her names like they were heroes of old.

“He is a figure out of the tales to them,” said Aemon, sounding as if he were trying to be diplomatic.

“He is a figure of something, alright,” muttered Alys and I sent her a sharp look. She shrugged before muttering some more. “He is worse than uncle Aemond. He thinks he is grandpapa with the way he judges people. At least uncle Aemond gets angry.”

Her and Aemond were still on the outs. I had not realised her and Aegon were, though.

“Judges people?” I asked. She shrugged.

“He tried to tell me off, back then. For Vermithor.” I gripped the arms of my chair as my blood turned to fiery hot rage for a moment. To ignore me? To speak to my own child directly? Even if she had been in the wrong, I could acknowledge that at least, everything she had done she had managed to do at Helaena and Aemond’s connivance. Little bastard- “I told him he should speak with his wife and brother about doing something wrong.”

At her sickeningly sweet tone, the fires of my rage died to embers.

“Of course, he tried to give me some lecture about theft, but I told him I stole nothing. Vermithor was not uncle Aemond’s and it was uncle Aemond’s own actions that allowed me to claim him as my own,” she paused in her explanation to smile at me. “He did not know what to say to that, and then grandpapa arrived and dragged him off.”

“You set him up, didn’t you?” I realised. “How long was my papa there before he dragged Aegon off?”

“A few minutes,” said Alys, then her gaze went back to the grounds with delight as Laenor rode out. I swallowed, my stomach suddenly feeling as if I had swallowed lead. Damn that girl if she wasn’t out to prove Laena at least half right. I resolved not to tell my lover of this. Alys would likely suffer in her next lesson for it. Instead, I focused on the grounds. Laenor’s opponent was drunk or at least horrendously hungover, that much was obvious. I sighed again and the children cheered.

“How much of this have you planned?” I asked, voice low when Rhaena wriggled from her father’s grasp to hang over the wooden panelling.

“Enough. Laenor isn’t the only horse in the race,” Joffrey replied, voice equally as soft. “Tarly has a few easy tilts and is set to run into Hightower. A promising Hunt has been cutting swathes through Green knights, the previous joust had the Bastard of Bitterbridge winning… if everything continues like this, I half suspect we’ll have an all Black final.”

“If anyone ever finds out...” I warned. Joffrey smiled again.

“They will not. Why do you think I have been so busy these past few days? The boy has done much to irk me lately and any embarrassment I can pay him in turn will be sweet.” I grimaced.

“Just remember what happened last time you rigged a tourney,” I muttered as Laenor and his opponent clashed with neither emerging as the victor.

“You assume I haven’t rigged any since?” asked Joffrey. Then he shrugged. “I never did collect on that bet. Do you suppose Garmon will honour it?”

I snorted without meaning to as Laenor rode again, sending his opponent into the ground with a spray of mud and dirt and the crowd going wild.

“It will be remarked upon in the right ears that he did not enter,” said Joffrey finally, as if he were being pushed to continue. “I had hoped he would enter, but I will settle for humiliating his allies.”

“I shudder to think what you would have planned for him.” But we could talk no more as our box settled back into normalcy and the children’s raucous cheering could no longer hide the implications of our conversation.

“Papa is doing well this tourney!” said Aemon, looking cheerful.

“Maybe my knight had a point about chivalry and skill,” said Aliandra slyly, her voice slightly raspy from cheering.

“Her knight keeps trying to bed me,” mumbled Sera, looking amused. “He wouldn’t know chivalry if it bit him on the nose.”

“No more talks about chivalry. The next person to talk about chivalry is getting a lecture from the driest and most boring knight I can find in my retinue,” I snapped as both Rhaena and Aemma prepared to snap back at Aliandra. Thank god they had not heard Sera, at least.

“Harsh,” said Sab, smiling. “What if I say the forbidden word? What then?”

“It includes you two,” I warned them. “Don’t test me.”

Sab’s grin widened as Sera half collapsed laughing into her sleeve and I was struck with such a bolt of nostalgia that for a moment I wanted to cry. I had missed this. This easy joking among friends. Was this what I was missing? Not hobbies or child-free time, but my friends as they had been? Maybe I should have a card night once more when I returned to the city. It would delight Maris at least and I might… I shook my head and instead reached out to flick Sab’s ear, sending her squawking in protest.


	234. The Reach - Chapter 204

I ran a finger along an ugly looking bruise, all black and blue and angry. Laenor flinched, as if he were trying to burrow deeper into the covers, and then grimaced.

“Is it necessary for you to prod every single one?” he whined. I pulled a face at him.

“I’m not prodding,” I replied. “I am just… sometimes I wonder if it is all worth it.”

“It is worth it when you win,” he replied, grinning. “Besides, I’m told it’s customary to act the injured warrior and have some beautiful woman soothe your injuries away.”

He was in a good mood and I couldn’t blame him. He’d come closer than ever to winning a tourney. Joffrey’s predictions had come true, of course, with an all Black final and Alan Tarly winning the day over Renly Rowan, a younger brother of Thaddeus. Tom Flowers had personally unhorsed Gawen Westerling, the last of Aegon’s favoured knights, and Laenor had reached further than ever before in the lists, proving to all he was no pretend warrior, when my brother had failed to even enter.

“Some beautiful woman? Would any merely do for you, my dearest and most beloved husband?” I asked archly. He laughed softly, then winced, clutching at his side for a moment.

“Don’t make me laugh, Rhaenyra,” he said, still chuckling. “Instead, focus on my wounds. They are many and require your attention.”

Ass.

“Is that not what I am doing now?” I asked. “Soothing your injuries and congratulating you on your many victories?”

He grinned again.

“So I will ardently assure any who ask me, dear wife,” he replied and I snorted at the cheek of it. He smiled again and pushed on by some impish impulse, I reached up and pulled on his beard. “Ow, very well, you have made your point. I yield. You are soothing my hurts, my beautiful wife.”

“Good,” I replied and laid myself across his shoulder. “Today was pleasing.”

“Pleasing indeed,” he murmured. For a moment, I thought that he must know, that he must have seen Joffrey’s tricks for what they were. But Laenor just smiled and let his eyes close, goofy smile on his face. “Did you see Garmon Hightower’s face when they carried that oaf from the field?”

“I did,” I replied. “I did indeed. It was most satisfying.”

“Tarly found it so, as well. If Laena had not already secured his allegiance, that bit of revenge would have done so.” So he knew some of it. Did he know that Joffrey had interfered with his matches, too?

“He won’t be competing for some time, nor will he be waving about Vigilance,” I told him. “Rumour has it his sword arm is quite broken.”

“What a shame,” chuckled Laenor. We lay in silence some more. The warmth of his body and the frantic nature of the day combined to weigh me down, make me feel as if my eyelids were made of lead. The last of the Reach was done with. I could relax now, it had been a success, for all that it still felt like bitter failure. I had brought a secret lord to my side, I had made my move on Florent even if I had yet to decide if giving him access to a dragon was worth it, petty revenge against the Hightowers had been had... yet Helaena had made her side clear, my family sundered once more. Soon it would be time for us to leave. For me to mount Syrax and fly home, Sab and Laena at my back, and tackle the next of my fears. Daemon. Perhaps it was a testament to how tired I was that even thinking that, sleep still claimed me despite the fear and the unease that rested in my gut like lead. Despite the phantom pain in a finger no longer there.

The final days at Highgarden passed slowly and at a snail’s pace despite my furious wish that everything would just move a little faster. I was quite sure I was once again making everybody miserable with my mood, but now the thought of flying home, of finally hammering out some solid plan of action with Father, was within sight, I wanted nothing more than to be away and going. Action against Daemon and not my brother, not planned action that still brought a stab of pain to my heart when I contemplated it.

Desmond continued to dance around the issue of Aemma and Dreamfyre, going so far as to watch the dragon’s afternoon feeding in person. As if he already possessed it and was slowly fitting it into his plans for the Reach and for his nephew. Laena had told me, in worried tones, that he had men asking about dragon lore. Two knights had come to Ser Steffon with reports that they had been offered bribes to bring copies of Laena’s notes to a mysterious employer. He was getting desperate, with no answer to his offer forthcoming. He would be denied his dragon through Aemma, though, and when I was done telling father everything, I quite fancied that House Florent would be officially banned from ever receiving a royal marriage.

Not as pointless and petty as it sounded, I assured myself. Aegon still had Viserra. My littlest sister, quiet and jumpy, had never shown interest in dragons beyond how they played a part in her histories, but she had the blood to claim one. Blood that could be passed down. Not as good as a Targaryen Princess who would be the sister of the King someday, who came equipped with a dragon already and whose children might reasonably be expected to marry back into the main line, but no small prize to a family out to raise itself up on our backs. No, Florent was a problem I would have father solve.

What was pointless and petty was the thrill I got when I realised I could throw his little lesson regarding Lyonel Tyrell’s regency back in his face. I, at least, had the decency to feel a little bad about it after, though.

“Are you ready, Rhaenyra?” I paused and glanced up. Sab stood there, dressed in leather and chain and looking even rougher than usual. Travelling garb already.

“Have I been lost in my thoughts for so long?” I asked, standing and wincing as my cramping legs informed me that I had indeed. Sab refrained from pointing it out though, and instead smiled. “Damn it all. When are the children boarding?”

“Soon enough. It’s why I came to find you,” she told me. I closed my eyes and stretched.

“I am loath to leave them, but needs must,” I mused, falling in behind my lady as we wove through the many corridors and gardens of Highgarden. The _Princess Rhaenyra_ still looked as grand as the day Laenor had proudly unveiled her. He had been put out to realise that after our trip to Seagard via Lordsport, he would have to abandon her to the mercies of Captain Allard, and we would have to take an inferior ship from Duskendale to White Harbor.

“Thank you again for taking me. I’ve missed them a lot,” said Sab. “Even Forrest.”

“Did you expect to love him?” I asked. She gave me an incredulous look. “When you married him, did you expect to love him?”

“No,” she said. “I expected to resent him. He was a second son with a reputation as an idiot and I the ruined daughter. I expected him to demand and control and I expected that I would have to stab him soon enough.”

I snorted at that as she smiled softly. “He was quite forward with me. He knew the rumours, all he asked for was friendship and not war. I could do that. Damned if I don’t want to keep him around now, though.”

“You are a good team,” I admitted. Her smile widened.

“He appreciates a woman that can put him in the dirt,” she boasted then flexed an arm, her smile telling me it was more a joke than any real reflection of her husband’s desires.

“Who doesn’t?” I replied, thinking Laena and sending Sab into peals of laughter.

“I can get behind that sentiment,” she laughed. No shame. Everyone knew the rumours about Sab, it was impossible not to these days. Yet my protection and her own attitude to it all meant she was very firmly left alone these days and should she have a few friends she was close to, daughters of lords and rich merchants, then that was certainly none of my business. A fact I had assured many people, many times, when my supporters and detractors brought the matter up.

“Mama!” called Aemon the moment we rounded the corner and found the little group waiting for us. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” I replied, kneeling down and catching him about the shoulders for a hug. “I would not miss my chance to say goodbye. I will miss you too much.”

His little arms tightened about my neck for a few moments then he stepped back and allowed Jocelyn to get close. I still had to take them all aside, to explain everything, but that could wait until I knew how we were dealing with Daemon. When I knew I could focus my entire attention on the matter. They deserved that, at the very least.

“Really? I’ve been dancing around for the last hour or so chanting that I’m finally free,” said Laena dryly and I pulled back my head from Jocelyn’s shoulder just in time to see Rhaena jab her in the thigh and look annoyed.

“She’s lying,” said Falena. “She spent the last hour trying not to cry and fretting over whether she needed to add the second volume of Maester Frederic’s History of the Storm Kings to your luggage.”

“Fal, at least let me retain some- oof.” I smiled and looked away as Laena nearly toppled over from the force of Rhaena flinging herself forward for a hug. I brushed a stray lock of coal black hair from Jocelyn’s face.

“Will you be okay looking after them?” I asked.

“Yes, mama,” she promised solemnly. I smiled as Alys stepped forward, looking decidedly impatient.

“We wrote letters for Grandpapa,” she said as I let go of Jocelyn and focused on the bundle of papers in her hand. 

“That is very thoughtful of you,” I told her, taking them gently and handing them to Sab. “He will be thrilled, no doubt.”

Then I pulled her close and she wriggled her face into the crook of my neck.

“You will tell him we miss him, won’t you?” she asked, voice slightly muffled.

“I swear it,” I replied, feeling emotion pulse behind my eyes.

“And I will miss you, of course, but you will be coming back soon enough. Grandpapa is in the capital, all on his own,” explained Alys.

“He has grandmama Rhaenys and grandpapa Corlys,” I told her, but the look on her face said clearly that she did not think that counted. Evidently, father’s policy of spoiling her rotten had thoroughly ingratiated him into her good graces.

“Who will be teaching us about dragons whilst you and auntie Laena are gone?” asked Jocelyn. I paused.

“What am I?” asked Laenor, half making me jump in fright as he strode up behind us, looking half exhausted. He needn’t get so involved with his crew and ensuring the ship was supplied and ready, but he always did.

“Injured,” said Jocelyn. “Uncle Joffrey said your ribs still hurt you.”

“Did he?” mused Laenor. “Well, they are fine enough to teach you flying.”

Alys was almost shoved aside as Aemma decided it was her turn to be hugged. I let her cling and shot an apologetic look at her sister, who shrugged and smiled. She clutched tightly for a minute or so before letting go and stepping back with that oh so familiar look on her face. I braced myself.

“Am I betrothed or not?” she demanded finally. “Aemon won’t tell me and it isn’t fair he knows and I don’t.”

In the corner of my eye, Aemon winced.

“You have to wait until you are ten to find out,” said Alys, a sly grin on her face. Jocelyn rolled her eyes and gave her twin a shove even as Aemma tensed up.

“No, little one, not yet. Why? Did you not like Lord Florent’s son?” I asked. She stopped and seemed to think that over, as if liking him had not occurred to her.

“He is much older than me,” she said finally. “But he talked with me lots about books and he didn’t tease me for my tales.”

“You should be thankful you aren’t betrothed,” said Alys. “I am, and I have never even met Osgood.”

“You have met Osgood,” said Laenor.

“I don’t remember meeting Osgood,” argued Alys and I waved a hand for them to stop before it got out of hand.

“Come now, I will not see you for a few weeks. Will you say goodbye with arguments?” I asked and Aemma hugged me tightly again. 

“Where is Aliandra?” I asked when I was free to stand up once more.

“On the ship with Vis and the baby,” said Laenor. “Leyla was having some trouble managing them both and you know how the damnable thing has taken to her.”

“Taken to head scratches, you mean,” I replied dryly, trying not to feel hurt at her absence and failing. She had been more distant than ever since Dorne. “Very well, I will let her avoid the goodbyes for now.”

Laenor smiled sadly before stepping forward and giving me a very chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Look after them,” I told him.

“I am their father,” he replied. “I would be remiss in my duties as such if I did not.”

“I’m sorry-” I started and he smiled.

“You fret, I know. Believe it or not, though, I can manage to navigate a ship full of children from Highgarden to Lannisport without turning the whole thing into a flaming wreck.” At my guilty look he rolled his eyes and pulled me close, taking the opportunity to whisper in my ear. “If you should choose to break our agreement, I do not mind. Let one of us be happy at least, rather than us both being miserable.”

That was a trap. It sounded like a trap, anyway. I gave him a tight smile as he stepped back and my children decided there were one or two more rounds of goodbyes to be had. I had never been apart from them for so long before and they were fretting, I suspected. I was fretting, especially if I was implying Laenor could not be an effective parent, anyway. I would admit to crying as they left, waving to them all lined up on the deck with tears dripping down my face. Laena fared no better, looking stoically miserable as her daughter disappeared into the distance.

“They will be okay,” said Sab quietly as I dabbed at my eyes. “They’re good kids.”

But they were gone, on their way to the Westerlands. Our suite of rooms seemed oppressively empty after that. Yet I could not sulk. I had an uncle to begin to deal with.


	235. Interlude - Desmond

The tension between the siblings was palpable, visible to any with eyes. The Hightower brat, and how could he think of him any differently with Garmon Hightower hanging over him so blatantly, stood ramrod straight. His dragon, the pale blue creature, was what gave away his annoyance - it drew back and forth, a long, low hiss emitting from its maw. Frost. Jealousy burned within him and he smothered it. House Florent would soon have back their rightful seat, Lyonel would deliver them that.

But the Conqueror had changed the game. What were the finest armies, the bravest knights, or even the vastest wealth to a dragon? House Arryn would soon have one. The Lannisters would soon feel the shadow of one darkening their doors. Even the Dornish. It burned that money could not buy it. He had thought men might, but his spies were clear, the would-be Queen would not give him his due unless the situation became dire enough. 

He needed a dragon. Needed one like he needed to breathe. He wanted the Hightower destroyed, House Florent ascendant.

“You must pass our well wishes to the King,” he simpered to her, feeling the sharpness of the brat’s gaze and basking in it for a moment. Garmon Hightower and his idiot son had made their case, high, mighty and imperious. They had all but commanded him to fall in line as so many of his vassals already had. The play was hard, aggressive, he would not have it. To sit in his seat, surrounded by HIS men, and demand fealty as if he were an unruly vassal and not their lord? No. He would not follow the brat even if they stood over him with a blade. 

The very memory turned his blood to flame again. Made him want to shake with the force of it. To stand in the solar she had ruled from and make demands of him. He would kill them slowly for that.

“You have been a finer host than I could ask for,” said Rhaenyra Targaryen, her voice warm. She was a good actress. He knew her warmth to be feigned, and yet he could see no sign of it.

“Sister,” said the boy, voice low with warning. Something ugly reared itself in his breast and he wanted to say something. That this boy, lousy with Hightower blood, should be so arrogant in his halls. Rhaenyra shifted, her smile flickering for a moment with annoyance before she smiled once more. Both were anxious, both ready to snap. Not so different from him, then. Like Aegon’s dragon, hers too was unruly. It shuffled back and forth, snapping its wings open and then closed. Something to note, something to file away. It would join the reports from his spies in the capital. Many a lesser man had his sneaks and spies watching the king, but he knew the truth. The real power was with the dragons, and so it was them he watched.

By the time Rhaenyra saw that she could not win without him, war or council, he would know too much about those creatures to ever let Dreamfyre go.

His eyes flickered to the pale woman that stood someway off, the bulk of her massive dragon casting her into shadow, and suppressed a shudder as those eyes passed over him. Did she know? He would hope not. Or at least that she considered his idiot brother’s failed attempts at seizing her work not serious enough to curse them all. House Florent had enough problems in their past, enough lost glory, without having to contend with an angry witch.

Perhaps he could persuade her to lay her curses on the door of the High Tower?

“Of course, Aegon, you have my apologies.” The tone was wrong, sickly sweet and hostile at the same time. It set the boy bristling, like a child not getting something they wished. He tried not to smile when the boy said nothing, his features becoming sulky.

“I bid you a safe journey, Your Grace,” he murmured, trying not to smile in satisfaction. Loud enough for the boy to hear the emphasis. He smiled when the boy looked away, flush high on his face.

“And I bid you my fondest goodbyes,” she replied easily. He bowed low. It was an act, an act he was sure she appreciated. An act that would drive the boy mad whilst leaving him no avenue to complain. He watched as her woman, Sabitha Vypren, joined her and the two mounted up. Watched as the Princess cracked her whip once and Syrax stilled her shuffling. The brat did not have as much luck. His own mount shuffled this way and that, making it hard for a knight in green to seat himself at his back. In contrast, Laena Velaryon’s massive Vhagar was the picture of calm as another knight seated himself behind her.

Then they were gone, leaving his men staring in awe as they rose into the cloudless sky. Three dragons, the same number that had conquered the Seven Kingdoms. His blood burned with need again. He turned back, ready to leave the grounds when Ser Emmon indicated an issue that needed his attention. Two of his knights, his, not Lyonel’s, dragged forward a furious man in Hightower finery.

“Garth Flowers, My Lord,” reported Ser Emmon. “Delivering a message to Prince Aegon.”

“Lord Garmon will have your head for preventing my reaching the Prince,” the man snarled. “The babe is coming and the Prince is needed.”

The brief thrill of opportunity was gone quickly. If it had been just the Princess, he might have had some chance of obtaining the child if it were a girl, or her aunt. It was not, though. Garmon would ensure his brother’s granddaughter and her offspring were well watched and there were more knights he could not sway or bribe besides watching Viserra. 

The thought of using his blood turned his stomach but it never did to rely entirely on the first plan you came up with, after all. Blood and a dragon were ideal, but blood would do just as well.

The Hightower blood made it infinitely less preferable to him and the reminder killed the last of his interest. He’d bow and scrape at the Princess’s feet before he resorted to that. He would if he had to, his sister deserved that.

“Tell me, has Garmon set his pet Archmaester on her?” he asked. The man, a bastard Garmon had likely procured from the whorepits of Oldtown and pumped up with unearned importance, seemed to realise then he was not among friends. That his master’s name would aid him little here. He swallowed thickly.

“Her Grace’s medical care is not information I am aware of,” he said quickly. Her Grace. The arrogance, the assumption… “Archmaester Orwyle is a learned man in the arts of healing.”

“No matter, I have men for that,” he told him and smiled as the man went paler. “Ser Emmon, dispose of this refuse. I suppose I will have to spin some tale for Garmon.”

The master of the High Tower would know, of course, but he would be able to prove nothing. The obviousness of the scheme would grate on him, though, it would make him clumsy. He deserved it. A whore’s bastard was not a fair trade for a daughter of Brightwater, but it was a start. He left Emmon to his work as the knights ‘escorted’ the messenger away.

So, the brat would have another child when he landed in the capital. It would be troublesome if it were a boy, but a girl, a girl would do nicely. If he backed Rhaenyra and her daughter was still withheld, he might be able to negotiate the girl. For Arabella, he would consider it. 

Humph. All this scheming and plotting in the shadows. Compromise and breaking of oaths. He would not have to do it if Garmon had not made him. Arabella had secured them the power they needed within the Reach to regain their rightful position. A long, uninterrupted regency - a chance to shape the boy, to introduce him to willing cousins, or failing that, a long betrothal to someone spineless enough that they would bow under Florent pressure.

Then Garmon had killed his sister and shattered it all. His sister. He had loved her. Loved her laugh, loved the way she’d tease him, loved the way she would grouse and complain about her husband to him and commiserate about his own unfortunate marriage. She had half raised his own sons. If she had still been alive, all of this would have been easier. He could have taken the risk of betrothing his nephew to Princess Aemma knowing Arabella would have her in hand, he could have-

He closed his eyes. The Maester had been the beginning. The man had revealed much about Garmon’s schemes and tricks, had spilled his guts about the Citadel’s fear they would be eclipsed. He had babbled endlessly about the divisions within their ranks, how some believed they had become too political and risked everything when they picked a disadvantageous side, whilst others believed they were not political enough and that they needed to leverage their influence over Westeros to a greater degree. He told him all about the Archmaesters retreating into their long, semi-secret debates after the incident with the Maester of Dragonstone. Garmon Hightower had bought their loyalty with fear then, although it had been no easy feat. The fear of falling into irrelevance, fear of meaning nothing, had driven them to the unthinkable in the end. And they had slain his sister as their first act, their first betrayal, their proof of loyalty.

He strode through Highgarden, ignoring the bustle around him as the princess’s labour sent his servants into a whirlwind of energy. He needed a dragon. Dragons had broken the Reach and dragons were the only thing now that could set it right. That could vindicate Alerie Gardener, his great great grandmother and oldest daughter of Mern Gardener. That could avenge his sister. That could clear out the rot. Burn it all away in one fell swoop. Another Field of Fire, one that would engulf Oldtown and all the stinking, rotting corruption in it.

When Ormund Hightower announced the birth of Vaella Targaryen that night, small and sickly but _alive_, he allowed himself some small measure of satisfaction that it was not a boy, at the very least.


	236. The Westerlands - Chapter 205

Lord Commander Lorent Marbrand was waiting for us when we dismounted our dragons, less saddle sore than last time, given Aegon’s insistence we stop at actual castles on the way and not camp in the wilds. Priss. His sneering objections had turned a three day trip into nearly a week and I was ready to throw him into the Bay and have done with it. Ser Rickard Thornewas on his right, face fixed into his ever present scowl as always. Ser Erryk Cargyll stood at his left, smiling widely as we made our miserable way to our escort.

“Your Grace,” said Ser Lorent as we drew close. “Lady Laena, my prince.”

It did not escape my notice Aegon had been greeted last. Purposefully? Aegon bristled all the same even as we made our own greetings in return. Lorent seemed as professional as ever. The Kingsguard would have to be a focus of mine before long. Perhaps after the procession. In Rhaenyra’s time, they had shattered apart and their divisions had led to yet more death. I was sure I had Ser Steffon and Ser Erryk, at least. Lorent and Ser Garibald were harder to judge, but their oaths to Viserys would likely tip it in my favour. As for the other three, the scowling Ser Rickard, the sulking Ser Arryk and the silent judge, Ser Willis… well, I had a sinking feeling they were against me.

I gave Ser Erryk and Ser Rickard a polite greeting anyway. Erryk returned it as enthusiastically as ever and Rickard’s was polite enough.

“His Grace did not send us as purely an escort,” explained Lorent seriously when we were done. “There is news.”

I was beginning to hate that word.

“News?” I asked, feeling dread form in my gut and the anxiety begin to make my breath short. “Of what kind?”

I needn’t have asked, I already knew, of course. My Uncle. 

“It’s mostly good,” said Erryk, earning himself a sharp look from his superior. “At least I think so.”

“Storms have prevented Daemon’s fleet from closing in on Lys so far,” said Lorent after a moment. “But even had they not, he faces the Three Daughters again.”

“They united?” I asked, perplexed. Their first unification had been surprising to begin with. To unite so fast, even in the face of coming invasion… Something did not sit entirely right there. “That is fortunate news.”

“They united under a man named Belos Hestoris,” explained Ser Rickard. “All three have given over command of their armies and fleets to him.”

“That’s not a Lysene name,” I murmured.

“Tyroshi,” he answered. “He is a decorated admiral. He led Tyrosh’s fleet to victory several times against Corlys Velaryon and Daemon Targaryen. Lately, he has been effortlessly preventing Myrish aggression from reaching Tyrish proper and conducting lightning raids on Lysene ships. He’s also clashed with ironborn and pirates more times than I can count.”

“Certainly the man for the job.” But how did he get the job so quickly?

“Indeed,” said Rickard.

“This can be covered by the Small Council,” said Lorent, looking curiously at Rickard before seemingly shrugging. “Your father bid us tell you quickly, so you did not storm his chambers before you properly rested.”

Laena snickered at that and I flushed red. Ser Erryk smiled broadly at me from behind Lorent’s back.

“As for the next bit of news, that is more personal,” he continued, not seeing his subordinates’ antics. “A letter from Highgarden.”

“Oh?” I asked, mind jumping to Helaena with worry before I stamped down on it as violently as I could.

“My prince, allow me to be the first to congratulate you on the birth of your daughter, Vaella.” Aegon stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before breaking out into a goofy grin that hurt my heart to see.

“A daughter,” he said slowly. “Is she well? How was the birth? How is Helaena?”

Lorent held up a hand and Aegon’s questions stopped but his eager stare was still fixed entirely on the Lord Commander, our previous arguments and stresses completely forgotten in the moment.

“The Princess is recovering well from the birth. Your daughter-” he paused then, hesitating and Aegon frowned. “She was noted to be quite small, my prince, and Archmaester Orwyle is attending to her himself. He is concerned.”

That name… Still, alive was good. Alive was definitely good. I risked a glance to Aegon again, noting how the way his shoulders were tense, his brows furrowed. Will you go to her, little brother? Small and sickly does not bode well, not without my midwives nearby…

“I see,” said Aegon. 

“Lord Garmon Hightower has also sent you a personal message. The Grandmaester has it in his keeping,” Lorent said. Aegon was still subdued when we exited the Dragonpit and began making our way towards the Red Keep. Well, Aegon, anyway. I would be stopping by the manse to freshen up and dress properly for court before I made my way to greet father.

It did not take long for our return to be noticed and for the people to begin lining the streets, cheering my name and shouting their blessings to me. Marya and Falena at work once again. Perhaps just Marya now, given Falena was in the Westerlands, watching my errant children and tasked with ensuring they didn’t burn anything down in Laena and mine’s absence.

“Doesn’t do half measures, does she?” observed Sab, mind evidently on the same track. I didn’t miss how her hand was on her blade though, still taking her job of watching my back seriously. Her eyes scanned the crowd with mistrust as their numbers swelled and their shouts grew louder. I risked a few royal waves at them all, much to their glee and Aegon’s blatant annoyance.

“She does not,” replied Laena for me. “I have a feeling Rhaenyra will be plying her with land in recognition for her charitable works.”

She ignored the look Aegon shot her at that, as if the very concept annoyed him. 

“Of course,” I replied easily. “The woman has devoted more than half her life to helping the poor and the needy. I have never met a gentler soul.”

“Lady Hastwyck?” asked Ser Eryyk, tone thoughtful as the crowds began to thin out as we approached the ‘nicer’ parts of King’s Landing. “She sends us baked goods to start our duty with.”

Unsurprising. Wait, was that how Steffon and Falena had forged their bond? I was saved from overthinking that, at least, by the turning in the road that would lead me to the Manse. I brought my mount to a halt and cast a look about, waiting for Ser Erryk to bring his mount alongside mine. The white knight shot Ser Rickard a lazy grin.

“I’m guarding Her Grace, I take it?” he said. Lorent’s lips pursed, even as Rickard snorted. Then he urged his mount forward beside me and I favoured him with a smile. I somewhat wished I had taken Ser Erryk with me on my Progress. He was good company and had a way with people most lacked. Still, Erryk never went far without Arryk, and Arryk was in the top three for people I did not want watching my back.

“Come,” I said simply. “I want to try for some sleep before whatever welcome father has planned.”

“A small feast,” said Lorent. Then he smiled and nodded, wheeling his horse about to escort Aegon on to the Keep. Anxiety clawed at my gut for a moment. Would father confront Aegon without me being there? Would it make any difference if I was there? “I will see you later, Your Grace.”

I tried not to laugh at Erryk’s mocking little wave as they rode off and instead focused on guiding my horses through familiar streets.

“I’m glad you are back,” said Erryk, breaking the comfortable silence. “It has been dreary here.”

“I’m sorry you did not come with us,” I told him and he shrugged.

“I know why you did not. You needn’t worry, I will have my brother in hand,” he boasted and earned a raised eyebrow from Sab which sent him almost giggling. 

“How has Luke been?” asked Laena when he’d recovered.

“Well! He has quite the gaggle of friends now! There has been talk of him potentially aiding His Grace as a cupbearer in preparation for aiding his future wife, but Lord Corlys was quite clear such a decision should only come from you.”

That… that did not bode well. Especially given what father knew about Luke. And what Luke’s biological father was currently doing.

“I see,” said Laena quietly, eyebrows drawn into an impressive frown as she thought that over.

“Has my father been insistent about such an arrangement?” I asked. Erryk shrugged.

“I heard him suggest it and Lord Corlys reject such a notion. He must have mentioned it again, for Ser Willis told us all later, but I know not how many times he asked.” Was he longing for a surrogate son, or a hostage? Damn it, something else to bring up with him, then. I would have to regale him with the story of Valena’s return before I began springing things on him. He would appreciate it. Good news to soften the bad, tales of my demands gone right to soften yet more demands.

“I will… I will speak with father,” said Laena quietly. “If both he and my lord husband agree, I would be honoured to let him learn at His Grace’s feet.”

I would speak with her before the feast. Let her know I had her back if she felt pressured into doing so. My plan for doing so was somewhat derailed by Luke flinging himself into her midsection and it was with a thrill of shock I realised the boy was taller than me now. It had been getting close but… I stood there, dumbfounded, as Laena made a fuss of him, praising his new haircut and how well he’d been doing with their father.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sab, following my gaze, frowning. “Still worried about Viserys whisking little Luke away?”

“No,” I managed to get out as evidently Laena at least heard and two pairs of violet eyes were directed my way. “I was… merely thinking over how Luke has grown.”

Laena raised an eyebrow then paused, drawing back to examine him. He squirmed under her gaze. Then she smiled, like a cat that had just caught the canary _and_ gotten the cream.

“Go and stand next to your aunt, Luke,” she said, trying not to giggle. He did so as I folded my arms and raised my eyebrow. Sab stepped back, her and Erryk both nearly bumping into each other until they too saw what Laena and I had seen, and promptly dissolved into giggles.

“Come on,” I grumbled. “His parents are giants, of course he’s going to be tall.”

“Father is not a giant,” said Luke. “Uncle Laenor and mother are, though.”

“When you are her size, everyone is a giant,” snorted Laena, and I thought something very uncharitable in her direction.

“I am retiring to my rooms,” I announced loudly, earning myself a fresh round of giggles. I paused, just long enough to rest a hand on Luke’s arm and give him a reassuring smile and warmly add my own greetings. “It has been lovely seeing you again.”

Laena caught me half way into my rooms, still chortling away to herself.

“Tell me you are not actually annoyed,” she said after I directed a raised eyebrow in her direction. Then smiled in relief when I shook my head, bemused. To think that the little boy I’d known all those years ago was taller than me…

“You’ll have to get used to it,” said Laena as I told her that. She shut the door and then latched it, before spinning and leaning against it. “Jocelyn will soon be taller, too.”

“No she will not,” I scoffed and Laena smiled.

“Rhaenyra, I love you dearly, but I do wonder if you have eyes sometimes.” At that, I did fold my arms across my chest. Jocelyn was big for her age, big for a girl, really, and certainly much taller than Alys, but nearly as tall as me? I think not. Laena smirked again.

“Next time we see Jocelyn, you must compare your heights. I swear she can not be more than a few fingers shorter,” said Laena earnestly and I frowned again. She wasn’t wrong in that, I hardly looked down at her anymore but… I blushed red to her musical laughter.

“I suppose you would not have that problem,” I grumbled, dropping down onto the bed and then nearly snorting in surprise as Laena moved to kneel before me, starting to remove my boots.

“The joys of being as tall as I am. I will admit freely to sulking up a storm the day I realised Laenor was taller than me though,” she admitted, pulling one boot free.

“By a hair’s breadth,” I groused, wriggling my toes as she began on the second boot.

“Even that matters to a child of three and ten. Laenor was supposed to be the younger brother,” she laughed.

“All my siblings are taller than me,” I observed as the second boot came free and she rose, tossing them to the side before fixing me with a thoughtful look. I knew that look. “Laenor and I have an agreement.”

“Hang the agreement,” she said. “I spoke to him, he agrees we’ve been good for this long. Nobody will know.”

“I’d know,” I groused. “If he can not, I will not.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to contain her smile, but could not. 

“He is not depriving himself during the journey to Lannisport, I assure you,” she said, trying not to giggle. “He has finally reached the point that being denied his lover for so long whilst having him within arms reach has become unbearable. Admit it, you feel the same.”

I opened my mouth to protest but her hand on my chest, pushing me down into the soft bedding insistently, silenced such doubts. She fixed me with a look again as she clambered onto the bed next to me, her hands framing my face.

“No what ifs,” she said sternly. “Credit him with a little intelligence. We have come this far without being caught.”

“I fret,” I told her. “I can not help it. Not when it comes to this.”

She smiled and said after a moment, “I am aware.”

“We have to tell them one day, but I would prefer that not come from a single mistake and their habit of not knocking,” I continued. She nodded, fingers stroking over my cheek and making my eyes flutter shut. My protestations would not get me far here, so I reached up and wrapped a hand around her wrist, pulling it down slightly so that I could kiss her finger tips.

“Very well,” I said finally. “But if we are late to the feast, I shan’t forgive you.”


	237. The Westerlands - Chapter 206

“Rhaenyra!” That was the only warning I got before I was engulfed in a hug. I sank into it, smiling despite myself, despite the situation. “How are you?”

“Well, father,” I said warmly. He drew back and studied me for a moment before smiling broadly. He looked better. “You seem cheerful.”

“Our family grows,” said father, before peering over my shoulder to spy Corlys and Laena, Luke at their back. If realising he had grown so much was a surprise, it was an even bigger one to not see him pulling at his clothes and making faces at the other people his age.

“He has matured a little,” I murmured as the boy met my eyes and waved. Father smiled again, although this time I detected some sadness. “Enough to be the squire of a king?”

“I’m not much of a knight,” mumbled father self-consciously.

“But you asked to have him attend to you?” I tried so hard to ensure there was no accusation there and no suspicion. I think I failed, given the faint offended look on his face.

“I owe that boy so much,” he said evasively and I raised an eyebrow. He sighed and seemed to slump. “I miss having you and Aegon and all your little ones about.”

At the admission, some emotion roared in my ears again and I moved forward, hugging him once more. He chuckled and wrapped his arms about my shoulders, rocking us side to side gently for a moment.

“I am sorry,” I said, really meaning it. 

“There is no need for apologies. You could not have predicted… well, all that happened.” His melancholy look returned, the one I had seen so much of on my brief visit from Dorne, and I searched for something to say. Anything to cheer him up a little.

“Valena was returned quite safely,” I told him. He paused, tilting his head. “Her mother may not let her out of her sight until she is a woman with children grown, but they are reunited once more.”

“I am happy to hear that,” he said and I did not think he was lying. “And no doubt it has won us points within Dorne itself?”

“If not us, it has swayed a few to Aliandra’s cause,” I mused. “Aron Dayne is quite the pragmatist. When push comes to shove, he will come down on our side every time because we are not out to kill his niece.”

“Dire words,” father murmured, but he looked thoughtful. I suppose that was better than melancholy. “But I know Lord Dayne. I agree with your assessment. The trick is to keep what is best for your girl and what we are providing as the same thing.”

Easier said than done, I mused to myself, eyes flickering back to where Corlys had moved on from stilted and awkward conversation with his daughter to work the feasting hall. A feasting hall rapidly filling up with noble guests. Laena said something to Luke then and tapped his shoulder, sending him racing off into the crowd before glancing up and meeting my eyes. I beckoned her over with a flick of my eyes and she managed a sort of half-drift. More nervous of my father than anything. Still so aware of what he knew.

“Lady Laena,” said father warmly. She crossed the final few steps between us with a smile I could tell was fake, but only because I had seen her practise it. “I am glad you could attend.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied.

“Laena will be staying here after I depart,” I told him. “She has business on Dragonstone on my behalf.”

“Business,” said father, looking curious. “How mysterious.”

“I assure you it is nothing too exciting,” said Laena easily. Father just smiled sadly.

“I can make guesses,” he said. I opened my mouth to call him on that but was interrupted by the arrival of my ladies and the smile that brought to my face. “Go and say hello. I shall be here when you return.”

I left him with a kiss on the cheek before making my way to them, smiling as six children scattered into the crowd before I could even reach them. It was Maris that spotted Laena and I first, although that should not come as much of a surprise. She smiled broadly before nudging a preoccupied Marya and soon both had marched forward. Maris threw her arms about me and I returned the embrace with equal fervour.

“How dull it has been here without you!” she exclaimed. For a moment, I wanted to ask her if that were true. To ask about Larys and a myriad of other things besides but instead, I bit my tongue and pulled her even closer.

“How dull it has been without you both,” I replied. “We’ve had to make do on the card game front, but it isn’t the same.”

Maris just laughed and released me, and Laena and I switched, Marya wrapping me in a fiercer embrace than I had expected.

“My Byren has been beside himself,” she told me when I gave her a questioning look. “About the princess. He said her mood was dour and then one day she was simply gone. Tell me she is well? He could not live with himself had something happened.”

“Helaena is fine… at least, she was when we left. She has had a child since then,” I said woodenly, afraid that if I tried for any act I would weep in public. Marya frowned and for a moment I thought she might question me, try to see what was grieving me so. She did not, letting the matter rest for now with a sigh and a glance around the room. I glanced past them both to find Forrest Frey and Sab. My lady’s face was alight with an indulgent grin, Forrest himself looking fairly relaxed and pleased too.

“I see you have located your husband,” I teased her. She gave him a gentle shove with her elbow as he blushed slightly, but was smiling too much for me to believe he was truly embarrassed. “She has missed you fiercely.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll get an inflated opinion of himself,” she teased and he laughed.

“Your Grace,” he said warmly, finally speaking, with a little bow. “Thank you for bringing Sabitha home.”

“It was my pleasure,” I told him. “How are the children?”

“Troublesome as ever,” Sab answered quickly, earning another laugh from her husband.

“A handful, I agree on that front,” answered Maris a moment later. “I can hardly believe Joffrey is nearly of an age to squire.”

Her oldest son had just turned ten, if I had remembered their ages correctly. Had I ensured gifts were to be sent on my behalf? For a moment, panic seized me as I searched my brain and the relief followed swiftly on its heel as I realised I had. Maris smiled at me, likely guessing exactly what my pause was for.

“I feel the same. Jocelyn is nearly my height now and a squire for Ser Steffon besides,” I commiserated.

“Manfryd is soon to be a squire as well,” said Forrest, pride lacing his words.

“Have you found a worthy knight? If you should require a good word, please just let me know,” I told them both.

“That is appreciated,” said Sabitha. “And here I thought I was going to have to bribe one of our white knights like Marya is doing.”

Marya blushed red and Sab laughed.

“I have no clue who Harwin has in mind for our Joffrey,” said Maris, coming to Marya’s rescue. “But if I may be so bold, I do believe the Lord Commander has space for a squire.”

“Lorent?” I asked, his serious face coming to mind. “Would he be acceptable for Manfryd if I could persuade him into it?”

“More than acceptable,” croaked Forrest. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“He has not said yes, yet,” I told them both dryly.

“We’ll temper our expectations,” replied Sab, but her excited nudge to Forrest’s ribs told me that even the thought of such a high appointment had them buzzing. I turned to the rest of the crowd. It had swelled greatly since I had found my ladies and gotten caught up with them. More Doves than anything else, as usual, but if one were to weigh Blacks against Greens… Corlys had done very well here. None of Aegon’s knights were in plain sight, nor any of his belligerent Reacher lords. I spotted Tyland Lannister, surrounded by his own little court, but as far as outright detractors went, this court was surprisingly free of them.

No one from Little Dorne had arrived yet. I frowned. Another thing to attend to whilst I was here. Ensuring their safety was properly reviewed and seeing what could be done to improve their lives here for the foreseeable future. That, and some part of me wanted to find Allyria’s detestable brother and ensure he was watched every hour of every day. He would not get a chance to hurt her, not if I could help it.

Maris might have been about to scold me for scowling so fiercely, I certainly saw her mouth open to, but she was prevented by a sudden buzz of activity and noises as the newest arrival caused quite the stir. Aegon had made an effort to dress up, and with Rickard Thorne at his back, he looked every inch the perfect prince once more. His handsome features a mask of politeness, his posture regal and composed… but he could not hide the way his eyes moved too fast from person to person. I bit my lip and suppressed the urge to remark on it.

“I would have expected him to be getting ready to leave,” said Marya, something dark in her tone that I had not heard before. “Poor Helaena deserves him by her side, now more than ever.”

“Especially if the babe doesn’t live,” muttered Sab. Marya looked heartbroken for a moment before turning her gaze back to my brother. I bit my lip again as I saw father rise, his face a mix between pleased and puzzled, and begin making his way to my brother.

Should I let this play out? Every part of my being was screaming that letting them talk without supervision would end in disaster. Watching the king and prince scream at one another may benefit my cause greatly but… but it would only hurt father more. I sighed and forced myself to cross to where Aegon stood. I did not fail to note that Tyland Lannister had been in the process of doing the same, at least until he saw both the king and I converging on his target and wisely decided to fade back into the crowd.

“My son,” said father, not waiting for acknowledgement and simply pulling Aegon close. “How I have missed you.”

“Father,” replied my brother stiffly, looking as if he wished to wriggle from his grip. Still, he stayed there until father released him.

“You have not been eating enough,” said father. It was not accusing, more tentative, but Aegon bristled all the same. That must be some record for sending the conversation downhill, surely?

“He has much to dull the appetite lately,” I interjected quickly. “Come now father, even you must admit that he has cause for worry.”

“Indeed,” said father.

“My sister speaks truly,” said Aegon after a moment. “Helaena’s pregnancy has had us all worried.”

“My thanks for another grandchild,” said father, his tone warm. “I hope I can see her soon.”

“She will be staying in Oldtown for the time being,” said Aegon, looking as if he did not want to be here. “That was what Helaena and I agreed on.”

“That seems for the best, if she truly has Archmaester Orwyle as worried as the letters say.” Aegon frowned again at my words.

“Vaella will be fine,” he said, sounding so sure and confident.

“Of course she will be,” I replied easily. “She is a fighter, like her mother and her father.”

Aegon smiled at that, a small thing, before he tried to look serious again. “Regardless, we intend to keep her near the Citadel until Orwyle has no cause to fret anymore.”

“I see,” said father. He was disappointed but not sad, he knew more than anyone the dangers of carting a sick babe about for all and sundry. “When will you be returning? I half expected you to be gone already, if I am honest.”

“When this council is done with, father,” said Aegon, as if the answer were blindingly obvious. I bit back a sigh as father blinked in surprise. 

“But she is sick, what if-” Aegon cut him off.

“My daughter will be fine, Helaena will be fine. My duty as a prince sees me here, in King’s Landing.” At that announcement, father’s eyes went flat and unfriendly.

“You overstep your place,” he said. “Rhaenyra is my heir, your duty is that of a husband and a father alone.”

“I came to try and persuade you out of Rhaenyra’s plan,” said Aegon firmly, his jaw set. “Her underhanded tactics-”

“Let us not speak of this here,” I said quickly. “We are garnering attention and this is a feast of welcome, not the Small Council chambers.”

Both froze as around us, as various nobles suddenly pretended they were engrossed in their own conversations.

“Rhaenyra is correct,” Aegon murmured. “Let us simply enjoy tonight’s feast. A truce, father?”

“A truce,” agreed father with an explosive sigh. We watched as Aegon bowed and headed off, no doubt to find Tyland Lannister and his ilk. I watched as Maris slipped after him, pausing to ask a few people if they had seen her youngest son about. Given that Walter was playing with his brothers on the far side of the hall, I rather suspected my lady was once again a step ahead of me when it came to dealing with my brother.

“That could have gone better,” I observed finally. Father scowled. 

“Ser Rickard, did my son dismiss you?” asked father and I half jumped when I realised the white knight was still there.

“No, Your Grace, I merely wished to pass along some information.” I frowned. “The Prince is dispatching his brothers to Princess Helaena’s side, and-”

He stopped and hesitated, even as I tried to fit this new information as to Thorne’s loyalties into my worldview. Certainly Erryk and Steffon had never mentioned as such.

“And?” asked father. Then he held up a hand. “It matters not, tell me when we have less ears around us. Go, watch his back.”

Ser Rickard bowed to both father and I before striding off through the crowd. I blinked. Then I blinked again and made a mental note to interrogate Erryk the first chance I had on Rickard Thorne’s passingly strange behaviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, this will be last chapter posted for a week or two as my university starts up again and I figure out just what the hell my schedule will look like.


	238. The Westerlands - Chapter 207

“Magister Lotho Dagareon!”

I knew the Magister was trouble the moment I heard Laena’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. A quick glance told me her smile had become brittle, forced, and her eyes betrayed her shock and horror at his presence. He was beautiful, I had to admit, in the way most of those with Valyrian blood were beautiful. Despite the fact that his city was soon to be embroiled in a war for its very existence, he did not seem overly concerned. He was dressed in deep purple silk, his pale blond hair immaculately curled and his smile easy and friendly.

His violet eyes travelled around the members of the Small Council, each seated before him, and then to my father, seated in an impressively carved oaken chair. Then he bowed, florid and obviously insincere. Or at least mocking.

“Your Grace,” he spoke at last, coming up from his bow. “Words can not do King’s Landing and your court the justice it deserves.”

He was mocking us. He came to us on bended knee for aid and he was mocking us. One had to admire the arrogance that would take. I suppose he knew as well as we did that we could not afford to let Lys and her famous Sisters fall. The more of Daemon’s army they tore at, the less we would have to face if… when he over ran them and came further west for his true goal.

“Gladly do we receive the envoy of the Lysene,” said father, a muscle jumping in his jaw that told me clearer than any words he had come to the same conclusion I had.

“The Three Daughters once more, Your Grace,” corrected the man, smiling. “Our gracious cousins the Tyroshi and the Myrish are once again united with us to face the threat of Daemon Targaryen.”

“Is it true?” asked Maester Edmund. “Did he sack Volantis as was reported?”

“Sack?” said Lotho, smiling. “No, no man could sack the First Daughter.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Joffrey and I had been right then. The letter had been fiction. The only question was, how much had he fabricated? The letter was a lure, surely, but what part had been the bait?

“But something happened?” I said. “We have been hearing reports of destruction, stolen legions and a missing fleet.”

Lotho nodded, his eyes were troubled even if that infernal smile was still in place.

“It has been hard to draw out the truth,” he admitted, as if it were some great secret. “But we sent our own spies. Not only to shadow his approach but also to investigate what happened there.”

“And?” asked father, looking decidedly impatient.

“Riots, although the city’s master’s are beginning to regain control, little by little,” said Lotho simply. “The Old Blood are not so wiped out as he would have us believe. In fact, they are remarkably intact.”

“It grieved us to think the Old Blood, that ever shining shard of Valyria itself, could be destroyed,” said Laena, her voice clear and strong. Lotho smiled at her and the expression made my skin crawl.

“Indeed,” he said. “Our own, verified reports, say that he arrived and set himself up in the House of the Dragon. Are you familiar with the establishment? It was founded-”

“We are familiar,” said Lyman, a bit of heat in his voice. Of course… his brother had died for Saera’s arrogance. Jaehaerys’ and Braxton’s own too, but the name of that princess must be salt in a wound he’d long forgotten about. Lotho smiled again.

“Well, by all means they were not intending to take him in… until they suddenly did. Then he began meeting with people, agitating the followers of the Red God, and the Old Blood’s patience wore thin when the riots began. They sent out their elite guard and well… you know what happened next, I assume.” I did, unfortunately. Somehow, he had gotten them to defect, to unite behind him.

“He set the mob on the city, besieged the Black Walls and sacked the outer palaces before what was left of the loyal guard, priests and soldiers threw him back,” Lotho explained. “It was mostly his freed slaves that took the brunt of the counter attack. He is awfully protective of those legions. When the admirals of Volantis also defected to his cause, it was those legions he chose to have escape by sea.”

“What of these priests?” I asked, earning myself a surprised glance from most. “They pop up near him without rhyme or reason, what claim has he on their loyalty?”

“Not as much as you would think. The ones that follow him are a cult. The majority of the Red God’s faithful have declared him a heretic, to be burned in the name of their god. I wouldn’t get my hopes up that they will succeed, though, what’s left of their priesthood has fled.” I so hoped Melisandre, if she was indeed around, was among those who fled. Still, I suppose there was one way to find out.

“What of these reports that shadows have been slaying people?” I asked. Lotho looked genuinely surprised at that, maybe even scared for a moment.

“There are rumours of a shadowbinder?” he asked quickly. “The gods see fit to laugh at us if he has one.”

“A shadowbinder,” said father slowly. Not a question, but not a statement of knowledge either.

“They are of Asshai.” Corlys’ explanation was like ice. Lotho nodded.

“You travelled there, yes?” asked Lotho. Corlys nodded, clearly not trusting himself to answer. “Then you know how dangerous this can be. An unstoppable assassin, you can not run, you can not hide, it will always find you. It is death. If he has one…”

I watched as the magister frowned and thought this over.

“They are not unstoppable,” said Laena quietly. “There are Valyrian writings of them. Of wards that can prevent them from crossing. Storm’s End has something similar.”

“That is… wonderful to hear,” said Tyland dryly. “But I wish to know of useful things, not tales more fit for a campfire than a meeting of war.”

“They are no tale,” said Corlys and Laena at the same time.

“If he has one, and such a rumour must be investigated, it is not a shadowbinder in service to the Red Temple,” said Lotho firmly. “All of them fled with the High Priest and the Fiery Hand when the mob came for them.”

“Then let us wait until we have some confirmed report rather than assuming he is the next coming of the forsaken Night King,” snapped Tyland. My eyebrows shot up. That was a northern tale. Not one I would have assumed a noble from the Westerlands would know of. Was it just that he was well read, or was Tyland the man in charge of luring the North to Aegon’s side?

“Let us move on,” snapped father. “What of this daughter?”

“A nasty one by all accounts,” supplied Lotho, regaining some of his earlier flair. “They say that she’s taken to setting that dragon of hers on her father’s freedmen soldiers.”

“Cruelty is commonplace in Daemon’s world,” I said quietly and father nodded, his eyes sad. Lotho merely shrugged, as if he privately thought that the freed slaves had being burnt alive coming to them.

“Has he reached your lands yet?” asked Corlys. His tone was almost stiff, talk of magic and Asshai had him scared and jumpy.

“He bites at our borders but he is still marshaling his full strength. He has yet to commit to a true attack. It is the enemy within we must subdue first,” explained Lotho.

“Slaves,” I said before I could stop myself. “You will receive no aid from us in this grim endeavour.”

“If we are to face Daemon with our full might, we must be secure that he does not have a man behind us, ready to drive a knife home,” said Lotho with wide eyed innocence, as if he did not understand the issue. Father snorted derisively.

“We are here to discuss what aid can be provided in our fight against my traitorous dog of a brother,” he spat. “Not to help you commit that most vilest of acts. If men, gold and ships are to be provided, as discussed, they will not be deployed within Lys itself. The same goes for Tyrosh and Myr.”

“Your decision is disappointing but not unforeseen,” said Lotho. “We already have a solution for such a term.”

“Such as?” asked Gerold Redfort. Lotho smiled.

“Leave that to us, Lord Redfort, I would not wish to involve any in this room in the act of slavery when you clearly feel so strongly about it.” He was laughing at us. This arrogant little…

His eyes flickered to Laena at that, amusement still dancing in them, and she clenched her fist so tightly her fingers went white. Of course. There were no free women or men in Lysene pillow houses, were there? Damn her, and damn him for bringing it up once more when I had all but forgotten it.

“Then why mention the issue at all?” asked Tyland Lannister, green eyes locking with Lotho’s. “I care little for this perfumed slaver’s games. Speak to us plainly or you shall receive no aid from us at all, and we shall keep our fleets and men to guard our own borders.”

“Harshly said, but I concur,” said father firmly. “We have aid to offer. Ask for it or do not, for I am not in the mood for games.”

Lotho’s face went flat, false amusement and playfulness falling away. He was silent for some time, as if he were considering his next words carefully. Father kept any triumph from his face but I could tell it was there, in the way he sat back in his chair, in the way he tilted his head slightly as he watched Lotho think. I risked another glance at Laena and swallowed. She was still glaring at him, her fingers were still white with rage. Part of me wanted to place my own hand over hers and part of me was struggling with utter disgust that still lingered at her actions in Lys.

“Your Grace, if plain words are desired then I shall deliver them to you,” said Lotho finally. “Daemon Targaryen is your prob-”

“Prince Aegon Targaryen!” At the call, my heart leapt into my throat. There was my brother, fully armoured as if he were a knight clanking into battle. From behind father, Lorent stepped forward, brown eyes unfriendly, but father merely waved him back. He was furious, though. His jaw clenched even tighter than before, his face a pale white, his finger wrapped around the carved arms of his chair as if he feared what they might do if he let go.

“Gods give us strength,” muttered Bryndemere. I bit my lip. I had spoken barely two words to the man so far but I had to agree as my brother clanked and clattered past Lotho and crashed to a halt in front of father.

“The envoy is right,” he declared. Lotho’s eyes lit up in delight and I wanted to hurl my inkpot at him. “We may deny Daemon all we wish, but he is of House Targaryen. He is your brother. He is our problem. This skulking, this underhanded and coy offering of aid is wrong. He must be beaten in the field. Our banners must be mustered, Westeros must be united in the fight against him.”

I thought, for one terrible moment, that father might strike him.

“The prince speaks with the passion of youth, perhaps, but he speaks truly. There are more than a few men, good and loyal men, who share his sentiments, and wonder why we do not commit.” Tyland didn’t even squirm as we all turned to look at him, instead he adopted a look reminiscent of his brother just before he did something that he foresaw being exceptionally annoying in a completely deniable way.

“I thank the wise prince for seeing our argument as true and just,” said Lotho, bowing slightly. “We deserve Westeros’ legendary might. We are suffering for your arrogance.”

“Sit down, Aegon,” hissed father, through clenched teeth. Aegon tilted his head, defiant for a moment until Tyland gestured and the servants brought forth a chair to place between Lyman and the Lannister twin. We waited in silence as he seated himself. I caught Lyman’s eye and the elderly man gave me a helpless shrug.

“The honourable envoy from our allies in the Three Daughters has a right to ask these questions,” said father finally. He was still furious. His body completely still. Every word sounding wooden, as if only by stripping them of all emotion could he stop himself from screaming himself hoarse at my idiot brother. “Daemon is of House Targaryen. He is my brother, as much as I have come to loathe that fact. I can see my own mistakes reflected in his actions. I can still see the young boy in the training yards in that hate-filled monster that claims my crown.”

No one dared speak as he seemed to gather himself for a second. Not even Lotho, who was back to being serious, as if he also sensed that father was dangerously close to being pushed too far and he knew that should he cross that line, he would be sent home with little to show and lucky to keep his head. Father was an affable and lovely man, it was hard to bait his temper, but there was little any could do to stand in his way when you finally drew it out.

“But we will not be sending our armies overseas to fight him, for that is what he wishes,” said father, meeting Tyland’s gaze.

“We have more men, better men, better fleets, more dragons,” insisted Aegon. “Now is the time to strike.”

“And what do you suppose we do if we strike and he is not there? If he lets us overextend only to strike at the capital or our children?” I asked. “If we strand armies at sea on boats and he sinks them? Who will even pay for this grand war you envision? We can not engage in some rash, knee-jerk reaction when he is so obviously wanting us to go to him.”

“These are excuses,” snapped Aegon, rising from his chair. I followed him up, anger making turning my blood to fire. How dare he? How dare he humiliate us all before a foreign envoy? Throw a tantrum in the middle of a meeting because he wasn’t getting his own way? How dare he so publicly defy our father? I saw red, tasted blood.

“You are a child!” I snarled, aware of others rising around us and Lorent striding forwards. “These are only excuses to someone who has never seen battle, who does not know Daemon like I do, who does not know what he is capable of! All you want is some glorious little battle with flags and banners and cavalry charges, but you are utterly ignorant of what that would mean!” 

“You are a coward, sister,” he snarled right back. “Hiding behind father, manipulating him into doing your bidding! Who rules here? Not the man on the throne anymore, apparently!”

“ENOUGH!” bellowed father and it was enough to kill my desire to punch Aegon dead. I swallowed, aware the eyes of the hall were on us. I sat down and mumbled my apologies, feeling like a child. Why was it he brought out the worst in me? Aegon sat as well a moment later, jaw clenched tight and looking so much like father…

“You will excuse us, Magister, councillors,” said father firmly. “I must speak with my children. Lord Corlys, Lady Laena? Please stay.”

Lotho had gone back to looking like his entire trip here was a huge joke, and the rest of them were grim faced, even Laena. Humiliation burned behind my eyes. To lose my temper like a child in a meeting such as this?


	239. The Westerlands - Chapter 208

“That was unwise of you both.” At father’s words, I wanted to sink into my chair. I settled instead for staring at the wood of the table, well aware my cheeks were red with my embarrassment. To argue in private was one thing, to argue in front of the Small Council itself? In front of a foreign envoy, as if I were a mere child? 

“I’m sorry.” My own words sounded quiet and hollow. I wanted so badly to reach out, to grasp Laena’s hand, but such a thing was unwise, very unwise. I nearly jumped from my skin when father laid his hand on my shoulder, his other catching my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. For a moment, I thought I was in for a dressing down, but then the glint of anger in his eyes died and his face softened slightly.

“I know,” he replied, letting go. “Do not repeat this.”

“I will not,” I swore fervently. My hands were shaking as I gripped the chair. Why? Why was my breath not coming so easily? How-

What desperate, racing thoughts had been turning over in my head ceased as he drew me up slightly and pulled me into a crushing hug I found I missed without knowing. I buried my head into his shoulder, fighting sudden tears that threatened to undo what composure I had managed to salvage from bickering like a child not five minutes earlier.

“I know,” he murmured softly. “You are afraid. I will keep you safe, I will keep you safe from him. I will fight him and any army he sends with my own two hands if I must to keep you safe. He can not, he will not, find you unprotected.”

“That… that is…” My denial did not even leave my lips before tears came. I was lying, to myself, to my family and to my children. I was afraid of him. I was blocking out what his coming meant because I was terrified, deep in my gut I knew that I could die, that he wished to kill me and he had spent over a decade planning too. “Thank you.”

“Do you have- Ah, thank you, Lady Laena.” He drew back, dabbing at my eyes with the handkerchief I recognised, the decoration childish and unskilled. One of Laena's most treasured possessions, a gift from Rhaena. And I was weeping on it. Gently, he handed me the cloth and with legs that felt like jelly, I lowered myself into the chair next to my lover. She dropped an arm around my shoulders, warm where I felt cold, but it helped. Corlys gave his daughter a raised eyebrow and the fierce look she gave in turn made me smile, despite how full of wool my mind suddenly felt and how my eyes stung with fresh tears.

How had such words reduced me to a sobbing mess so quickly? It made me want to start weeping all over again, that anyone should see this, that I should be mistaken as some faint hearted woman, unable to even contain her emotions in important meetings that may decide who lives and who dies? I shuddered again and Laena’s arm gripped me a little tighter in response.

Father watched me for a moment, then he nodded and turned to the other occupant of the room. Aegon sat, rooted into his chair, his face pale white as if he were about to be sick or faint dead away. His wide eyes were on father as he leaned against the table, his posture making it clear just who he blamed for this fiasco. More embarrassment washed over me. He had seen that. Seen my fear, seen me break-

“I would strike you, boy, if I were not so sure you regretted that little rant the moment it left your mouth,” father began, his tone as cold as ice. “You came to this meeting uninvited, you undermined what we were working towards, you undermined me, you undermined my heir.”

Aegon swallowed and said nothing but I saw him tremble. He had gone too far, he knew he had. Father’s temper could be unpredictable but nothing could bring it to the fore like family. Would that save Aegon? Or damn him?

“I stand by my complaint,” he rasped, as if his throat were dry. I could sympathise. 

“That is the problem,” father told him. “Corlys, my brother’s forces, if you will.”

“Spies and general rumour say ten thousand well-trained, well-equipped men follow him. These are the Volantis Legions, despite guarding the Black Walls for centuries, a full half of their number chose to abandon their masters and follow Daemon west. These form the core of his army and are currently among the most dangerous tools he can bring to the battlefield,” began Corlys, his violet eyes fixed on Aegon. He looked, at first glance to be dispassionate, removed. I knew my goodfather, though. He was revelling in this, in the lesson he was handing to my little brother right now.

“Ten thousand men who know how to kill and are better equipped than the average fighter in Westeros. Lockstep Legions well familiar with fighting mounted opponents,” clarified father. “Continue, Corlys.”

“Of course, Your Grace. These legions form his core but he also has much of Volantis’ militia soldiers. Well-armed, semi-professional soldiers, we put their numbers at about half the size of the legions although I warrant more experienced with actual combat. Most were drawn from ex-mercenaries, men looking to retire from more active killing. In addition to that, he has countless thousands of freed slaves and men devoted to his little cult. Their arms are a little more… unorthodox, but numbers alone make them dangerous. Fanatics do not break, they do not rout, they do not run from a fight. They do not shy from taboo nor distasteful acts, no crime is too great in their eyes.” In his seat, Aegon straightened slightly.

“We have knights,” he argued. “Thousands of them. We have men-at-arms, our armies are at their largest since Aegon’s Conquest! Our dragons outnumber his, he can not oppose us!”

“In a conventional fight, yes.” Aegon’s momentary triumph at father’s statement gave way to puzzlement when he realised father was agreeing with him. “But Daemon does not fight conventionally.”

“And so we must stoop to his level?” he asked, tone sullen. Father sighed but it was Corlys that answered.

“You can not send the full might of the Seven Kingdoms abroad. We have fleets, yes, but supplies would soon become stretched and the cost would be so immense our treasury likely would not take it,” Corlys began. Aegon was quick to answer.

“I am no fool,” he retorted. “I was not suggesting we take every fighting man, but we could take enough to defeat him on the field.”

I wanted to be sick as my stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“And who will you send against him to oppose his dragons?” asked Laena. “Vhagar and I? My mother and Meleys? Perhaps even Laenor and Seasmoke? Of your siblings, only Aemond comes close to our level of skill and that is because he spends every spare moment in the saddle, learning about his mount.”

“You would bring politics into this,” he asked, disbelief echoed in his features and the way he shifted in his seat suddenly. “Daemon threatens our king, and you would complain that more Black riders are sent than Green?!”

“It is a consideration I must take into account,” said father solemnly. I heard the unsaid ‘thanks to Alicent’ quite clearly. So did Aegon, if his flush of guilt said anything. “Lady Laena makes an excellent point. Daemon is every bit as equal to Rhaenys in her prime. I could not send any rider who was not among our best, for they would simply be fodder for his slaughter.”

“And Daemon would only stick around to face such a force if he was confident in winning,” drawled Corlys. “He has his own dragon ally to call upon, and her mount is monstrous indeed.”

“Much more likely,” said father. “Is that he would sacrifice his slaves and cultists to us, take his legions by sea and attack somewhere we do not wish him to.”

Aegon ran his hands over his face and made some noise of frustration.

“You act as if he is some demon from the tales of old,” he groused. “He is a man, with men at his bidding. He is not unbeatable. His child’s dragon can not be so monstrous. It is young, as is she.”

“Are you so sure of that?” asked Laena, her arm removing itself from my shoulders. I missed the warmth instantly, wanting the comfort back, but wanting this entire conversation to be over first. “He is a man, yes, but he has more than just men at his call.”

“Superstitions,” scoffed Aegon. “The smallfolk tricked into passing on mere tricks, each iteration making them more impressive.”

“And are the rumours about me mere superstition?” asked Laena sharply. Worry stabbed in my gut and I half rose from my slump before father rested his hand on my shoulder. The look he gave me told me he knew, knew about Laena’s interests anyway. I was quite sure he did not know of us.

Aegon laughed, the sound bitter.

“If my sister wishes to ply you with gold to play alchemist then who am I to deny her?” he asked. “Mother believes you to be the second coming of Visenya… or Tyanna.”

“Your own sister sees the future in multitudes as she dreams,” Laena argued. “Is my knowledge of the magics of old so impossible?”

“That is different,” he said, stubbornly.

“For the sake of the Seven,” I spat before I could stop myself. “He has magic, brother. Likely several types. He has spent a decade surrounding himself with cultists of the Red God. It is not just his army that makes him terrifying. What if we march a grand army to him and he simply takes it like he took the legions?”

“Your own sister once wrote to me. She warned me that should I meet him, I would be lost. A chained dragon weeping as it tore at a crowned one. A wingless dragon dying among red rivers,” Laena murmured. Aegon heard it though, and he shuddered.

“There couldn’t be such magic,” he protested weakly. 

“We know not what horrors the Valyrians dreamt up. They were great, yes, but they unleashed upon this world so much horror and grief that I would not say any act was taboo to them,” Father opined. “Do you see, Aegon? My brother is mad, my brother has power we do not understand, he has resources we can only guess at… if we do exactly as he wishes, we will lose.”

Aegon was silent for some time, colour returning slowly to his cheeks at least.

“I understand,” he finally intoned, with the demeanour of a man accepting his own death. “I understand he is a man pushed to the edge and that he would be capable of much I had not previously considered. I will… if it pleases you, I will consult Helaena. Sometimes, she can direct the dreams-”

“Direct them?” asked Laena sharply.

“Not the time,” said her father, giving her yet another warning look. She flushed red and mumbled an apology, settling back into her seat. My father smiled sadly.

“When did you know about Helaena?” I asked. It was not Daemon, at least. I could focus on that, Helaena was better than Daemon any day of the week.

“A long time ago. Alicent, she did not realise, but I knew the tales. My poor Helaena…” He closed his eyes for a moment then sighed shakily. “I grieved for her, but she would not let me in, would not reveal to me her dreams. Consult her, but do not… do not push her too hard. They hurt Daenys greatly, I would not want to see her hurt too.”

I swallowed, the very act painful. Aegon nodded stiffly as we all lapsed into silence for a moment or two, each lost to our own thoughts. My eyes still felt swollen, I still felt as if I were standing on quicksand… but I could do this. Then I would go to the manse, curl up in Laena’s arms, and have the bulk of my breakdown in private. Let spill all those fears and repressed words. 

“You will apologise, Aegon,” said father. “You will apologise to the councillors and to your sister. You will do it before those you undermined us to and you will do so sincerely.”

“Yes, father,” said Aegon. It rankled. I saw it. Yet he had shown himself up, just as I had done. My fear, my tears, had bought me reprieve,but he had no such look. Father rose to call back those he’d ordered gone and Laena reached over, the tips of her fingers lingering too long as she plucked the cloth from my fist with a sad smile. 

They would see that I had wept, but I would give them no more satisfaction than that.


	240. The Westerlands - Chapter 209

“Please accept my sincerest apologies for my behaviour,” said Aegon, bowing low before the assembled Small Council, having taken the place of Lotho before them. Lotho for his part was stood by the door, watching with that same amused expression. “I was not in possession of the true facts of my uncle’s behaviour and acted recklessly before seeking out knowledge.”

“The passions of the young,” said Tyland, as if he were some elderly and wise sage dispensing wisdom to a crowd.

“Passion, yes, but temper such passion with knowledge,” said Lyman, a sour note to his tone, evidently not as willing to let him get away with his behaviour.

“There are countless men here that could have informed you of Daemon’s nature,” said Bryndemere of Tarth. “I fought with him, Lord Corlys to an even greater degree, Lord Beesbury saw his childhood and Lord Redfort has knowledge of his movements and secrets. This was unacceptable.”

Aegon’s eyes flashed and his jaw clenched, but he did not respond to the rebuke with words, instead bowing once more, as if he sought to hide his expression more than anything. To anyone else, it would appear almost polite. Yet, I knew Aegon. He hated this, hated the rebukes, hated even more the semi-public nature of it.

“That is not all you must apologise for,” said Lorent Marbrand, and that did surprise me. His brown eyes were full of dislike when I turned to look at him.

“The Lord Commander speaks truly, Aegon,” said Viserys blandly, as if his words were no more important than an observation of the weather. So this was Aegon’s lesson? Aegon’s punishment? Father knew Aegon must be squirming inside, he was dragging it out on purpose, making him speak words he did not wish to utter, secure in the knowledge that rumour would soon make the matter public given the Council was Black in nature these days.

Aegon was proud. Father was needling that pride. How many times had I found, to my detriment, that such a thing to do was dangerous indeed? Yet I did not believe Aegon would act against father. For all that he was prickly, ambitious, proud and arrogant, he held fast to his idea of honourable knighthood. Honourable knights did not assassinate their fathers, even if they believed said fathers were acting against the tenets of honour and chivalry.

For all he aggravated me, I was glad Aegon had his beliefs. They made him pig-headed and hard to deal with, but they made him more than a fat philanderer who’d given up on life and sunken into a hedonistic slow death simply because trying was too hard. I was lapsing again, losing myself in thought to avoid my fears and failures.

“Of course, father,” Aegon replied, his features schooled into neutrality as he turned to me and bowed yet again. “I apologise, sister. What I said was utterly wrong of me, I should not have uttered it at all.”

Not trusting my voice, I nodded. Aegon caught my eye for a moment, concern glimmering there, as if he wanted to reach out and try to comfort me. Then he seemed to shake himself and that concern died as he seemed to mentally prepare himself once more. He turned back to father and waited for several agonising seconds. 

“And I am sorry for what I said regarding your own kingship. It was wrong, damaging and untrue. I do not believe that, no one would. My anger made me speak untruthfully in order to hurt you, father.” At his words, father shifted in his seat, as if weighing up Aegon’s apology and it’s worthiness. Finally, father nodded and gestured to the seat Aegon had occupied before he’d accused Viserys of being a mere puppet.

“You are forgiven, Aegon. In truth, there will be many asking the same question you asked. Details will be quietly disbursed, but I suspect that few will have the wisdom to acknowledge their mistakes as you have done, Aegon.” Forgiven, I thought as Aegon took his seat and Lotho stepped forward once more, but not forgotten.

“Magister Lotho, I do hope you will forgive this indiscretion?” At Corlys’ words, Lotho smiled. What game was he playing? To be so openly derisive of us? To needle Laena, to taunt father?

“Already forgiven,” he lied. Next to me, Laena shifted slightly in her seat.

“Then let us move back to the matter at hand,” said Corlys, all false smiles and almost bared teeth. Did he know this man? I would have to interrogate both him and Laena soon enough. It was clear he knew Laena, at least, and that Laena knew him. Had they…? Sudden jealousy added to the fear and I swallowed.

“Of course,” father replied easily before turning a false smile to the envoy. “We are prepared to offer gold, ships and men. We are not prepared to take an army to your shores.”

“And so the Daughters must bear the weight of the wrongs the King of Westeros has wrought,” sneered Lotho. “You raised the viper in your bosom, you gave him everything he needed to burn this world, and then you sent him away with nothing but hatred for man in his heart and washed your hands of him. You cared not where he went or whom he has hurt.”

“I set a bounty on his head when he fled justice. It was your countryman’s choice to march an army of slaves to his doorstep. Whatever Daemon has done, he has done independent of myself,” Viserys replied. “Yet I do still bear some responsibility. He is my brother, and it is for that I offer what I do.”

“A paltry amount,” spat Lotho. “Already our slaves revolt. Hundreds have died containing them and it will only get worse. In Pentos, the move to elect a new Prince after the old was put to death by his own bed slaves, and they must have one soon, for Braavos grows bold. They send men to Pentoshi borders, they seize goods from their merchants, call in loans they have no right to.”

He paused to draw breath and then forged on, giving no one the time to refute his words. A far cry from ‘our citizen militia has it all in hand’.

“Further east, Volantis burns and has burned since he left it. Slaver’s Bay faces invasion from some nameless general your brother has dispatched there. Daemon Targaryen-” he stopped and spat on the floor, eliciting a shudder from myself and a noise of disgust from Tyland Lannister, “- has set Essos ablaze. You offer us a pitcher of water to douse an inferno!”

“It is wise to remove further fuel from the fire before attempting to douse a flame, lest your house burn down around you,” said Grand Maester Edmund. “Daemon is the spark we released into this world, but your way of life, your brutal slavery, is the dry kindling he so easily finds fuel in. You say we offer you a pitcher? A pitcher would drown a spark with plenty to spare.”

“There is a reason slavery is banned under the worship of the Seven,” said Tyland, tone almost lazy. He was taunting him back. “And that’s not just because it is a repugnant practise. It’s also because when the slaves outnumber the free, it is only a matter of time before they realise that. Why waste good gold fixing your broken system?”

“My fellow councillors’ words are crass but true,” said Lyman, making me nearly bite my tongue in shock. “We offer you enough to defeat Daemon, no more and no less. If you do not wish to take such an offer, if you feel we insult you with it, spurn it. Spurn it and face Daemon Targaryen alone. No one within Westeros will weep for the fall of slavers, Lotho Dagareon.”

“We may find strife within ourselves over other matters,” I rasped, needing to speak up, needing to be seen as involved in this. “But we will never, ever, disagree on the matter of slavery. You blame us because Daemon is the cause of this rebellion, but I truly wonder how long you would have lasted until some other revolutionary came along?”

About two hundred years, give or take a few decades. Father caught my eye and nodded firmly.

“My sister speaks truly,” Aegon declared. I caught Corlys rolling his eyes at that. Next to me, Laena was stiff as Lotho looked upon us all with hate. He could, of course, bring up pillow houses now. He could humiliate Laena, humiliate me, force me to denounce her at the least or disavow her at worst. He could… and I would make damn sure he lost all offers of help from us. I tried to tell him that as he met my eyes. I was quite sure he had not gotten the details, but something in my eyes must have unnerved him because he was the first to look away.

“We will not ask you to beg, Magister Lotho, but neither will we take responsibility for anything that is not our fault,” said father firmly. That was the end of the matter. I saw the moment he gave in. The amused mask gone now, hate and anger in its place. He would agree though, he would agree to our terms because alone, his people were doomed. He stopped, took a deep breath and then… almost laughed to himself. Confusion was evident in all my fellow councillors faces at that.

“Then suppose I will take what is offered. Damn her and damn her predictions,” he muttered.

“Her?” asked Grand Maester Edmund. Lotho laughed again but the sound was bitter and carried no joy in it. Self-deprecating, I realised.

“No one of any importance,” he muttered. “An adviser to the Admiral.”

“Belos Hestoris,” I said. “He seems a capable man with excellent people underneath him.”

Lotho refused to take that bait, instead standing before father once more. His jaw clenched tight as he bowed as shallowly as he thought he could get away with. 

“I accept your offer of aid on behalf of the Three Daughters and Admiral Hestoris.” There was another curious thing. Admiral was a Westerosi affection… 

“Then we must plan our response,” Corlys announced. “I have received countless enquiries from lords and ladies across the Seven Kingdoms regarding how they might help fight Daemon’s menace. Three houses have pledged a total of thirty two ships of varying descriptions, and other houses have responded to the news with offers of aid as well: seventy six thousand nine hundred and sixty four gold dragons, and men totalling twenty four thousand five hundred and twenty six have been pledged to the cause.”

At that, Lotho looked genuinely surprised. As if he had expected much less… of course, I had no doubt that this grand army was much less impressive than it looked on paper. Of the lords that had promised men, most likely promised two or three of their peasant levies. A few, those who were like Aegon and eager for glory, might go themselves and take knights with them, but I suspected a good portion of manpower would not be well trained or particularly well-armed.

Gold was easier to quantify. Those unwilling to send men but still wishing to demonstrate some ‘stand’ in the face of the Rogue Prince would have sent along sums. I had no doubt it would soon be a matter of bragging rights. Who donated what to the cause. The ships were interesting... three houses and thirty two ships. Velaryon and Hightower, I would assume. The third could be anyone. Jack Whitehouse in King’s Town, the Arryns of Gulltown, the Manderlys of White Harbour or the Lannisters of Lannisport…

Why was I guessing? It would be a simple matter to see each contribution Corlys had received from the man himself. My mind running rampant again, unable to just settle and listen, still trying to repress fear and uglier emotions.

“That is just the lords of Westeros,” said father easily. “House Targaryen also pledges gold and men. I have taken steps to secure the continued employment of several reputable mercenary companies that operate within the disputed lands. The Light Foxes, the Children of the Mountains, the Sunspears and the Goldenmoons have all given their assent to join your defence. Near fifteen thousand men trained in the art of war.”

“If that is what is offered, then I will thank you for such an offer, but I can not pretend that I am not disappointed that the might and glory of Westeros does not descend upon its disgraced son to put an end to his evil,” said Lotho.

“A final note,” said father, as if he had not heard the Magister. We all shifted in response to that, with surprise and interest, as father rose to his feet. This was some grand gesture. I knew it because I knew father. He had some final flare to add, something to make his offer much easier to swallow for the men and women of the Three Daughters.

“There are men within my kingdoms that know Essos, that know fighting and killing, far better than the common man,” he began. “I refer not to hedge knights, or men such as Denys Waynwood and Bennard Stark, but to the worshippers of the Drowned God. The Ironborn. I decree that they shall be free to reave Daemon’s army, to prey upon his ships and take whatever plunder and loot they can from him. Let it be known that I will give a hundred thousand gold dragons to the man that can bring me Daemon Targaryen’s head, a thousand per ship of his that is sunk and ten gold dragons for every legionary of his that can be slain!”

It was probably a good thing I lacked the skill in sums to total that in my head, but I also knew how much it would sting the treasury just by Lyman’s reaction and the knowledge sat like lead in my stomach. An increased bounty, and two more set… and all I could think was that it would do nothing to stop him.


	241. The Westerlands - Chapter 210

The impatience of waiting for promises and plans to become actions bit at me over the next few days. A veritable cloud of ravens had been sent out under the watchful eye of Grand Maester Edmund and Westeros would respond soon enough. Ships from House Redwyne, House Velaryon and House Lannister would soon assemble at King’s Landing, as would the gold and the men father had been promised.

My brief joke that Aegon should lead the ramshackle force had been met with a cool look that told me father absolutely did not appreciate the sentiment, and that further mentioning the subject would lead to trouble. I wisely kept my mouth shut. Father’s mood had skyrocketed from the letters my children had sent and I had no desire to bring it down once more. He’d made me promise I would not leave without his own letters in reply and I had done so gladly. The only downside to the whole matter was Gerold Redfort throwing mournful glances at me whenever he, father and I were in the same room. 

“I can not intercede on your behalf,” I told him one afternoon when it was just the two of us. Ostensibly, we were discussing matters of state within his office, but given Gerold's role on the council was mainly to feed Joffrey’s information into father’s ear, I already knew well what matters of state entailed. 

“I know that,” he replied softly. “But it does not stop an old man wishing you could.”

“Jeyne is stubborn but not unreasonable. She will come around and then Jess will follow,” I told him and he smiled, amusement tinged with sadness. As if he needed to laugh not to cry.

“You may know Jeyne well enough but my Jess… Hmmm, I doubt it. Hugh and Alaric too.” I grimaced at that for there was little I could offer him in comfort.

“How is Alaric getting along?” I asked, seeking the change in subject. “His third child is due soon enough, yes?”

“A few months yet,” replied Gerold. “He’s doing well. I have no worries about leaving Redfort in his hands, truly. I feared he would be chasing Denys Waynwood all about the Mountains of the Moon but he seems to have settled and left the running about to Hugh.”

“And how goes Jeyne’s project?” I asked. It seemed like an age ago we had sat together in the Eyrie and gone over anything and everything I could give the Vale. I needed strong allies, and Jeyne had wanted her land to see peace and prosperity.

“Well enough. The mines are still a way off of producing anything of note, but the Mountain Clans are broken. What’s left of their territory is increasingly small and they no longer have the manpower to resist Denys’ advance and mount counter raids. Two winters have broken them and I can’t say I shall weep for their end.” His tone was bitter, in the way most Vale Lords tended to be when speaking of their ancient rivals.

“I can not say I would either,” I replied easily as Gerold nodded along with me. “The atrocities they have committed…”

“The improved farms are not to be sneered at either, nor your more exotic plants. Although Jeyne writes to me of needing endless wagons and horses to get it to her mining depots. Still, it means our imports are lower than usual and I’ll take that as a win, especially with the Iron Bank breathing down our necks.” At that, I frowned.

“I have heard it said they are calling in loans?” I enquired. “Loans that were previously considered to be far from in default.”

“They badger Jeyne but she told them to leave. Well, you know your cousin, she was not so polite as that, but that’s the gist of it. They did not go so far as to call for a total repayment, but they certainly made noises at increasing the rate of repayment.”

“It worries me,” I admitted. “The Braavosi prepare for war against Pentos as Daemon invades their closest natural ally. They call in debts of Daemon’s enemies.”

“It worries me as well. I know your uncle well enough from his time in the Vale and from your own stories, I doubt he has changed for the better. Braavos though… I can not see them aligning with a man such as he in the way you are thinking.” When he saw my raised eyebrow, he elaborated, fingers coming up to scratch at his beard. Less magnificent than it used to be, now more a neat and tidy trim. Perhaps it was the influence of the fact his hair was more silver than not these days, or perhaps it was his mistakes weighing heavily on him. “Like as not this is pure opportunism. Weaken their rivals amongst the Free Cities, weaken the remaining dragon lords by fueling a civil war and capitalise on it by taking land and tribute from their neighbours.”

“That does not overly reassure me,” I said dryly. “They still may be supporting him.”

“But they aren’t behind him, merely goading him. There is a difference.” I snorted at that and he shrugged. The unease, ever present in my breast since Daemon made himself known once more, sitting like a rock behind my ribcage and making my stomach flutter in anxiety. I took a few deep breaths, Gerold politely averting his eyes as I regained control of myself. “There is no shame in fearing him. Only good sense.”

“I wish my nightmares would understand that,” I groused.

In truth, the unspoken accusation of cowardice that I could feel being levelled my way every time I spoke to any War Hawk was probably true. I feared Daemon, feared him in a way that had me waking from unrestful sleep, shivering in Laena’s arms. I had not even confronted her over Lotho because I was afraid she would withdraw that support. Sab was with Forrest, making the most of her time with him and her children, and I could hardly demand she provide the same platonic comfort that Laena did to me.

“Something that I’m sure many wish as well,” replied Gerold, and I hoped he was not acting and that he truly found no shame in my admission. I remembered, vividly then, how he had treated me after the fall of Gulltown. How he had guided me through those first shaky steps on solid ground after I had turned my dragon loose on the defenders of the city. After Syrax had torn their lines to shreds and how I had killed for the first time. Gentle, kind, understanding. I closed my eyes as we lapsed into silence for a few minutes, the only sound the bird song through the window we had thrown open to let the cool summer breeze into the room.

A knock on the door disturbed me and when I opened my eyes, Gerold was also looking confused.

“What?!” he called, tone curt. “I gave orders that I was not to be disturbed!”

“My Lord, my apologies, prince Aegon awaits his sister.” Gerold turned surprised eyes to meet my own baffled stare. After the council, I would have thought Aegon would want nothing to do with me. 

“Send him through,” replied Gerold finally, after I nodded stiffly. I took the few moments before the storm to ensure I was properly rearranged and not as if I had just been half asleep. Then the door opened and the first thing I thought was that my brother looked as if he had managed to get as much sleep as I had. Which is to say, absolutely none.

“Aegon,” I said as he paused, standing before me like a naughty child, his features uncharacteristically shifty. At least he was not in armour this time.

“My apologies for seeking you out when you are evidently busy, Rhaenyra,” he began. “I have a request of you. Would you hear it?”

“A request,” I replied in disbelief. He humiliates me, declares his intention to usurp me - then asks me for a favour. I let him see my anger, my disapproval, and he set his jaw in a way that made it clear he intended to ask and my anger was not a factor in the matter. “Lord Redfort, could I borrow your office for a few minutes to speak in private with my brother?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” he murmured, rising and bowing to me before disappearing through the door without a second glance. Aegon took the seat he had so recently abandoned and I fixed him with a level stare.

“Speak,” I told him after a few moments of silence. Oddly enough, the tone did not send him bristling in offence as pricking his pride so often did.

“I would accompany you to the Westerlands,” he replied. “If you would have me.”

More anger bit at me, banishing even the other feelings of unease, fear and frustration.

“Perhaps I misheard brother, did you just ask to come with me to the Westerlands after implying in public that I committed treason? The Westerlands, might I remind you, where your brothers, wife, son and sickly daughter are not?” At my tone, he cringed. Perhaps it was testament to how far gone our relationship was that the behaviour did not spark even the slightest bit of concern in me. Instead, it merely fed the irritation, that he should know how wrong the request was and ask anyway…

“I did not accuse you of treason,” he mumbled finally. “I accused father of lending his ear to you alone. I was wrong and I apologised.”

“After making an arse of us all,” I told him shortly and he flinched.

“As Tyland Lannister has informed me,” he said, bitterly. “I acted like a child and I should not have done. Do you wish for me to apologise again?”

“I wish for you to go to your wife and comfort her. I wish for you to go to your sickly child and let her know her father!” At my words, he seemed to deflate in his chair.

“Let her know her father?” he asked. “The man who seems to exist to be humiliated.”

“I will not respond to your self-pity. Every bit of humiliation heaped upon you has been well-earned by your actions.” At that, his features darkened and he shook his head, as if ridding himself of thoughts he did not want.

“I did not come to argue. Just to ask,” he said finally. “May I come with you?”

“And what awaits you in the Westerlands that takes precedence over your wife and child?” I asked. He gave me a half smile.

“To listen to uncle Garmon, you yourself.” I waited. I did not believe for one second that Jason Lannister’s loyalty was in doubt. After a moment, he chuckled. “But in truth, I want to go home. See my friends, see-”

He stopped and then shrugged again. “Will you let me come with you, sister?”

“I can not stop you,” I finally, begrudgingly, admitted after a few moments. “You are a grown man with a dragon and your business with Helaena is not my business.”

“I am sorry about that,” he said and he meant it, I could tell. “She has her reasons, of that I am sure. She loves you fiercely.”

“She sundered herself from me.” Tears bit behind my eyes at that and I refused to let them fall. “I owe her nothing, least of all herding her husband about. Do what you wish, Aegon. Evidently you have little respect for me.”

“I respect my sister,” he said gently. “But that leads to an already old argument.”

“How are we meant to not argue?” I demanded, the gentle words annoying me more than the implication. “You seek to usurp me, you would do so gladly.”

“And from where I sit, you have already usurped me,” he replied, then stopped himself and took a deep breath. “I just… I do not wish to argue today. I do not think you wish to either.”

“I am tired,” I told him. “And now I have a headache.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “But about your trip west?”

“Accompany me if you must,” I told him, letting my sour tone tell him exactly what I thought of that. “But I will take no blame from your siblings and children.”

Aegon swallowed and then nodded, rising from his seat. “Thank you, sister. Perhaps we should both get some rest?”

If only rest would come so easy, I thought as he moved to the door and opened it, casting one look I could not read back to me before disappearing through it and letting it close gently behind him. Annoyed, I reached up to rub at my eyes, feeling as if I had grit on them, before sighing heavily.

“Twat,” I muttered, more for the need to express my anger somehow than any real feeling. Then I rose to my own feet and reached for my cloak as Gerold stepped back in.

“Anything of concern?” he asked. My answer would be flying to Joffrey by sunset, I knew.

“He wants to go to the Westerlands. He claims he wants to see old friends, but I am not so sure. He is holding something back.” At that explanation, Gerold looked almost disgusted, his thoughts no doubt following mine. A wife who had gone through a difficult birth, a child still in the midst of the most dangerous time after birth… and he was haring off to the Westerlands. It simply could not be just about seeing old friends or seeing Lord Jason again.

“Could he mean to sabotage our efforts there?” Gerold asked, reclaiming his seat and reaching for paper and his inkpot.

“I doubt it, I believe our efforts are pre-sabotaged,” I admitted. The Reach was rife with conflict to be exploited, but the Westerlands… they had no major skirmishes or insults in living memory beyond the usual lordly ambition. The Lannisters knew well how to deal with ambitious underlings. Gerold clucked his tongue in thought at that, his quill beginning its scratching across the paper. “I shall leave you to your work.”

“Thank you, Rhaenyra,” he said, tone earnest. “No doubt Joffrey will confer with his men who are close to the prince as to the purpose of this trip. If I learn anything, Joffrey will be the first I inform.”


	242. The Westerlands - Chapter 211

“Sab will be with you, so I won’t tell you to be careful, she will keep you safe,” said Laena, hand resting lightly on my shoulder for a moment before shooting a look at Sab that carried overtones of ‘or else’.

“I’m sure our princess would much rather have you along though,” Sab replied, the slight smirk on her face telling me exactly what she was insinuating. I dropped back onto the bed and wrapped my arms around her midsection, laying my head on her hip to peer at Sab.

“Do you wish to stay behind?” I asked, voice sweet and innocent. “Discover the mysteries of dragons for me and I’ll take Laena.”

“Alas,” replied Sab, tone dry. “I lack the skill to do much but play the brute.”

“Shame,” muttered Laena, her hand tangling in my braid. “Give us a few moments?”

“Scandalous!” But she left all the same, grinning away to herself as Laena snorted and shook her head.

“Will you be okay?” she asked, pulling free from me for long enough to sit down beside me.

“Will you?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I could answer the question without having yet another breakdown, and it was not long before I was due to meet father and Aegon at the Keep.

“Implying what?” she asked, voice soft. I smiled at her, glad she had not taken it the wrong way at least.

“Luke, your goals, your father?” At the explanation, she winced.

“Luke will quit sulking when he realises I’m an afternoon away on dragonback, and father has finally seen the light and agreed to give me his tomes from Yi Ti and Leng, although I’ve been through most of them by now, the Seven know.” She paused and took my chin with one hand, “As for my goal, for my Queen, I’d conquer the Hells themselves if you asked.”

“I’ll settle for a dragon,” I told her and she smiled, her lips meeting mine a moment later.

“Then I will not leave Dragonstone until I can present you with a dragon I have personally hatched,” she promised, her voice dropping a few octaves and making me shiver at the roughness of it.

“Does this mean I will not see you again before you are five and seventy?” I asked. The joke was weak and I knew it. For a moment, she almost looked surprised. Then she frowned.

“What is wrong?” she asked. “Does that displease you?”

“No,” I told her. “No, it does not. I am just… I am not feeling well. This whole matter has me out of sorts. Kiss me again.”

She did so and I could almost avoid the self-recrimination of cowardice that washed over me as her lips touched mine. I needed to know what Helaena had sent to her, I needed to know what she had done in those pillow houses… and I was too afraid to confront her. Not here, not now, not when so much was at stake. Not when I needed her so much.

It already hurt like a stab to the gut to be leaving her behind now, I could not make our last moments tense and uncomfortable. Selfish coward that I was. As if sensing my thoughts, she pulled back.

“Something is wrong,” she stated. “Will you leave it to fester?”

“You know me?”I joked weakly and she captured my chin again, eyes seemingly looking into my soul. “Not now, not when we are to be parted.”

“What have I done?” she asked, sounding as if I had just punched her in the gut.

“Nothing,” I insisted. “I…”

Her lips thinned and I wanted to close my eyes and sink into the ground, never to be seen again. I needed to be better than this.

“It is your time in Lys.” The words sent my stomach tumbling, as if I had stepped into empty air and started falling. I wanted to protest when her hands dropped to her side. I wanted to curse myself.

“I see,” she said quietly. “Lys.”

“Lotho insinuated…” It was hard to say the words and I shut my eyes. Tired enough to fall asleep on Syrax, and yet I was trying to navigate conversations such as these. 

“He… I… I did not-” I didn’t open my eyes as she lapsed into silence again. “I can not lie and pretend I did not partake.”

The confirmation, spoken aloud, of what I had known for so long did not hurt me as much as I thought it would. I still flinched when she placed a hand on my arm, rubbing up and down as if she were comforting herself and me at the same time with the movement.

“You did not see a future,” I finally said, opening my eyes. “I should not have let it get that bad. I knew you struggled, yet I was absorbed in Aemon, the twins and the Blacks.”

“It was no one’s fault but my own,” she corrected, quickly. “I wish we had chosen to speak before today.”

I glanced outside, noting the sun had climbed higher in its morning journey. I would bet Sab would be here soon enough, urging me onward to the Keep. 

“I am not angry,” I told her. “I do not want… I do not wish for us to be tense and unhappy. Please don’t leave it like this.”

“Then I will not,” she whispered and kissed me again. This time, it was easier to return it but it still felt like running in its own way. Nothing solved, nothing discussed, a delay in the inevitable. 

A knock on the door saved me from that line of thought. “Come on, you two! I have a princess to deliver!”

Laena smiled, shakily, but it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

“I wish I could stay,” I told her. “I wish I had been smarter about all of this. I wish I could tell the world about us.”

“I wish the same.” Tears pricked at my eyes, fragile emotions welling up my throat and then Sab knocked again, her sigh of frustration quite audible and Laena laughed slightly.

“We better go, before she takes a ram to your door.” She was not nearly so close to such drastic measures, but I did not miss the knowing and amused glances she cast at us as we rode towards the Keep. The city was alive around us, men and women calling out to our party as we rode past. The path to the Keep was not so bad as the path to the Pit, at least, and I was glad for having thought ahead and moved Syrax closer.

Father and Aegon were waiting for us as we rode up.

“It makes an old man wish he could come with you,” said father, eyes crinkled fondly, as I dismounted and threw my arms about his shoulders. “It seems barely a moment since you returned. I admit, with all the current unpleasant business, I would prefer you here.”

“And I want to be here,” I told him earnestly. “But I can not.”

I refrained from saying why, given said reason was standing next to me and looking… sulky was the wrong word, I reflected as I double checked my gloves. Withdrawn? Withdrawn worked. He had been quiet since I had agreed to let him follow me west, engaging in the court on Tyland’s orders alone. He knew, and so did most of the court, that he had not exactly covered himself in glory during this stay. Whispers abounded of abandoning his wife and children… and darker whispers still about the true parentage of his daughter.

For my part, I’d gotten Maris to stop spreading that one as soon as I realised her people were the one whispering it. Struggle between us both had seen the nobility spreading all manner of outlandish and outright harmful rumours since before Aegon could even speak. Yet it still bothered me, even when Aegon was the target. Or Helaena, in this case, I supposed. 

I finished fidgeting with the leather as father glanced at Aegon, looking torn. There had been yet another argument between the two earlier, when Aegon had revealed he was following me and not rushing home to his daughter. Father felt he was behaving badly and Aegon had no desire to be parented by a man he evidently had complicated feelings for. It made me want to smack myself upside the head, to realise that just as I had struggled to see him as a father in truth until Alys’ death, Aegon struggled just as much. Whereas for me, it was due to more obvious reasons, Aegon felt abandoned and lesser in his father’s eyes.

I wanted to urge father to tell him. So many times, the truth father had imparted to me so many years ago hovered on the edge of my tongue, waiting to spill out. It wasn’t even a matter of hurting him anymore, or gaining some political advantage by setting the cat among the pigeons at a critical time. It was that he needed to know. And at the same time, I second guessed myself. What would it change, truly? He’d still feel as if he had been robbed of a throne he thought rightfully his, through no fault of his own. Father had not told him, had not sat down and revealed all. Was it even my place to tell him?

I was aware, of course, that I was distracting myself. Focusing on Aegon and petty arguments that we’d gone over a thousand times to avoid focusing on the looming threat on the horizon in the form of Daemon, or even my relationship with Laena, all full of things that remained unsaid that really needed to be put into the open. I glanced across, eyes finding Laena as she and Sab watched me from a way off. Guilt at running away from such problems loomed large in my mind momentarily.

“Ah, your letters!” At father’s exclamation, I took the proffered bundle, and the distraction it provided, from his hands and smiled. Then my smile widened as I realised each letter had a name of my child upon it. I turned back to him, ready to thank him, but father was already forging onwards.

“You must give my regards to Lord Jason when you are both in the Westerlands.” It was phrased as a suggestion, almost, but I knew it for what it truly was, a truce. Aegon’s shoulders lost some of their tension finally and he nodded, the bob of his throat visible as he turned half away to hide his face.

“We will, father,” I assured him. “I must admit, finally having Jocelyn’s betrothal feast will be a weight off of my mind.”

Father smiled, evidently the safe topic pleased him. Nobody wanted an argument whilst we were literally minutes from leaving. I wasn’t even lying. Father had offered a thousand times to host it here, of course, yet something always seemed to get in the way. Some disaster on our end or dispute on Lord Reyne or Jeyne’s end and the whole thing was delayed again.

“The boy seems a good match for her,” said Aegon, making it clear he approved at least. “It seems more often than not I see them together these days.”

“Rolph is a good lad,” I replied. “A lesser man would fear her but he seems happy enough she shares his interests.”

“A smart lad then,” said father. “He’s good with a blade as well. Your Laenor has taught him well.”

A testament to father’s good mood that he said so without wincing, frowning or hissing anything through gritted teeth. I smiled as everything seemed to become awkward once more. 

“Well,” said father, when it became apparent there was little more to say. “I should wish you well on your journey.”

“Thank you,” Aegon and I both said at the same time. Father’s moustache twitched in what looked like a brief smile. Then he sighed and drew us both in at once for a bone-crushing hug. 

“Be safe,” he murmured into our ears.

“We have guards and Aegon is passable with that blade of his,” I told him, somewhat strained as the air was being forced from my lungs. At least Aegon took my joke in good spirits, chuckling slightly. If I was to get through this journey without strangling him in his sleep, I needed to lighten the air between us. Then he let us go, smiling sadly once more, and stepped back.

I wasted little time, Sab falling in behind me as I climbed atop Syrax. Laena watched me the entire time, I could feel her eyes on me, yet I dared not risk more than a few glances her way. Then, when I could fidget and fuss and put leaving off no more, I cracked the whip and sent Syrax skywards.


End file.
